#&& the memories kind of blend together

[natade-art]

we can only give paracelsus a human body for the weekends or he gets depressed due to lack of being a giant battle-axe key that his wife uses to kill people

[tamagotchikgs]

if u ever think im cool i want u to know that only a couple years ago i filled my pockets w starburst to go to a funeral in case anyone talked 2 me to aid in the conversation

[t-u-i-t-c]

me talking about ryusoulger on here

[j-esbian]

thinking abt how much of my life i’ve lost to depression and i truly want to throw up

[nuka-zero]

"How was your 2023"

where is the "I don't remember" option???

[eddiesxangel]

Could this be Fate? | Alpha!Eddie x Omega!Reader

CW: omegaverse, alpha!eddie, omega!reader, f!reader, strangers to lovers, typical omegaverse lore, mention of assault but nothing specific (not on reader), breeding, mention of suppressants, biting, oral (f), p in v.

4.1K words

S/o to @lesservillain and @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with this one 🥺💜

As Eddie leisurely wandered through the grocery store, his mind drifting through thoughts of daily tasks and work deadlines, he was suddenly stopped by an alluring fragrance. The mouth-watering scent of warm cinnamon, rich coffee, and a hint of maple filled the air, wrapping around him like a cozy embrace and awakening a deep longing. Despite the rarity of fated mates, Eddie's heart fluttered with new hope as he was irresistibly drawn toward the captivating aroma, igniting an unspoken quest within him to find its source.

At first, he thought it came from the bakery, but the closer he got, the more elusive the scent became. So, he followed the irresistible aroma, realizing he had never smelled anything so strongly.

The scent was like joy etched into his brain – the sweet essence of serotonin intertwining with his other senses. He finally understood what love was, and it called to him.

Eddie hurried ahead as the scent intensified, and there you stood, eying different cheeses. With your hair draped over your shoulder, you compared Brie and Camembert, deep in deliberation. You were oblivious to the alpha staring at you, mouth open in awe, until you inhaled deeply to make your choice, only to catch an unexpected aroma of leather and coffee.

You snapped your head up, forgetting about the cheese, overwhelmed by the aroma that invaded your space. You tucked your hair behind your ear to get a better view, and that's when you noticed him. He was strikingly handsome with rough edges. All hair, tattoos, and leather, yet there was an endearing look in his big, beautiful brown eyes that let you know he is kind.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat as your eyes met his. The colour of your eyes was unlike anything he had ever seen – a mesmerizing blend of rich hues that captured his attention, yet bright enough that he thought he saw stars.

"Hi," Eddie sighed, already lovestruck. His dorky smile was so endearing you couldn’t help but smile back at the stranger. 

“Hi,” it came out almost as a whisper. Your heart was racing, and your stomach did a flipflop. 

You have never felt like this before… like you needed to claim this man standing beside you… like you needed to mark him, to make him belong to you and you to him… yet you don’t even know his name.

“Hi,” he breathes again, not knowing what to say, making you giggle. 

“What would you pick?” You ask him, not wanting him to leave. 

“What?” He snaps out of his aroma high you put him in. 

“Brie or Camembert, what would you pick?” 

“You,” he says without a beat.

“Very smooth,” you try to hide your bashful smile as the blood rushed to your face so fast you swore you could hear it pumping through your skin. 

“I’m Edward… but you can call me Eddie.” He clears his throat. “Edward, but Eddie,” he stumbles his words and sticks out a tattooed hand. 

You take it, feeling sparks as your skin connects, and you both know it but are too scared to admit it. This was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it softly to commit it to memory. 

“You wanna shop around with me?” He scratches his head, not too sure what he is even saying. 

“Um,” you pause to think about it. “Yeah, I would.” You smile, and the breath Eddie was holding finally lets out. 

Spending time with Eddie was the best part of your day. Things had been rough for you, especially since you were running late to prepare for a get-together with friends Robin and Nancy. The stress about the charcuterie board and wine now seemed foolish; but seeing Eddie made all those worries vanish. You both share a magnetic connection, almost as if you're destined to be together.

Neither of you has voiced the idea of being fated mates, as that seems absurd and extremely rare. It's impossible to think he's your perfect match. Yet, as you continued through the grocery store, you both realized this was something different. Surprisingly, instead of feeling nervous around an alpha, you felt safer.

You have never met anyone who found their fated mate. You learned about them in health class, where you were told that you should recognize them by scent, attraction, and connection. However, they are so rare that statistics indicate only one in ten million people find their mate. Therefore, it seems impossible for this to happen to you.

When the girls came over, you couldn’t wait to tell them about the man you met today. 

“You always hear about ‘when you know you know,’ but this felt like I knew.” You babble. “It’s like I was seeing colour for the first time? But of course, I know what colours are, but it’s like… I don’t know….I sound crazy.” You shake your head.

“No, keep going!” Nancy encouraged. Her bright smile so genuine you couldn’t say no to her.

You take a long sip of your wine, “Do you guys believe in fated mates?” 

“I think they are real.” Robin nods.

“I think so too. There is no way all the stories can't have some truth behind them,” Nancy offered her thoughts, as she always did with such intelligence.

Based on what you described, they were utterly convinced he was your soulmate. The endless questions began—they wanted to hear every tiny, intimate detail, especially since they had never known anyone who experienced such a connection, let alone their closest friend. You vividly recounted how you felt an overwhelming urge for him to tear your clothes off and claim you right there in the dairy aisle. Yet, he was the epitome of a gentleman; he walked you to your car, pushed your cart for you, and meticulously loaded your bags into the trunk. If you had been a bus rider, you were certain he would have offered you a lift without hesitation. His disappointment was palpable when it came time for your goodbyes. This inexplicable connection lingered, though you waved off their comments, chalking it up to a whimsical notion of a hopeless romantic.

Just like he knew you were gushing about him, he calls while the girls are over. Thankfully, he had asked for your number in the parking lot before you had driven off. If he hadn’t, you would have asked for his; there was no way you weren’t seeing this guy again. You both lingered, not sure how to feel. You were both nervous, but he also made you feel safe, not something you were used to with an alpha. 

You had to quell Nancy and Robin’s excitement while they eavesdrop in on the conversation.

Eddie had asked you out for coffee, keeping it light and casual, instead of inviting you to his place. He was considerate of your need to be in a public space for safety. He didn’t have much money to spend on you, and coffee was easy and relaxed; he didn’t want to come off too strong; he had just finished high school a year ago and didn’t want to scare you away. The only thing he wanted was to keep you. He was aware of what some other alphas had done, often covered in the news—taking whomever they wanted, whenever they wanted, believing they were entitled just for existing. They acted like gods... but not Eddie. Eddie wanted to protect his omega and ensure you were never stressed. He felt a deep, primal urge to keep you safe.

Eddie didn’t fit into society’s archetypes about what alphas should be and look like, so when he started changing, he didn’t believe he was one until his first rut… that sure was something he didn’t expect. 

Sure, Eddie was different, but he was still an alpha; he wanted to claim, mark, and breed you. He pushed away x-rated thoughts of the two going at it in the grocery store parking lot. He knew it was too soon; only a crazy person would have the urge to want to mark a total stranger… to want to make them theirs…. to have them feel safe, and stop at nothing to do so.

You have been on Eddie’s mind every second since he met you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you soothed his soul, how he couldn’t even think straight.

So coffee on Tuesday afternoon seemed like a safe bet; thankfully, both of your schedule’s allowed it.

By the time it hit two o'clock, you were buzzing with excitement. Eddie was due any moment, and you couldn't stop fussing over your outfit. Did you seem too eager? Was your hair too big? Too much makeup? Or not enough? Your mind was a whirlwind of questions until the door speaker announced his arrival.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. Eddie was on the other side, and all your worries floated away when you saw him with a bouquet. No one had ever gotten you flowers before… 

When Eddie came to pick you up, you initially didn’t have the heart to tell him that this coffee shop was your place of work, but all of that went by the wayside when Steve, your manager and another Alpha greeted you. 

“So, what brings you in on your day off? Can’t get enough of me?” Steve smirked at you, and Eddie had to swallow the burning jealousy that was bubbling to the surface. “I’m on a date.” You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. 

“Well, it’s about time someone snatched you up.” Steve winked at Eddie, and he could be strangling him right then and there. Eddie didn’t want to feel this way, but his alpha was taking over. He didn't appreciate the wink.

Eddie paid for your drinks and insisted you get a snack, so you picked your favourite muffin. Steve gave him the employee discount without his knowledge, but you said nothing. You wanted this to go well. 

Steve seemed like a good guy, but Eddie wasn’t a fan of your working so closely with another alpha. He had doubts; he hated how he smiled at you and how Steve could make you giggle. Eddie tried to push down the thought of the two of you working alone. 

You suggested you sit outside on the patio, away from prying ears.

“Are you sure this is okay? If I had known, I would have taken you somewhere else, like ice cream or something...” His leg bounced, and you could see how he was in his head. He felt like an idiot for thinking this would be an excellent first-date spot. 

You had sat across from him, but you scooted your chair closer and rested your hand on his knee. 

“I’m okay, Eddie. I promise. I’m happy to be with you. I don’t care about the setting… we have the best coffee anyway.” You giggle. 

Eddie melted at your touch; everything about you calmed him but riled him up. 

As first dates go, this had been the best one you’ve ever been on. You delved into each other's worlds; the conversation flowed effortlessly, and you can’t recall the last time you laughed so heartily. Eddie was loud, theatrical, and boisterous, and you relished every moment. 

He loved how attentively you listened to him and didn’t make him feel embarrassed about his nerdy interests. He was astonished by your genuine curiosity and the warmth with which you sought to understand him. 

Your heart raced when Eddie walked you to your door, only to kiss your lips tenderly. You had longed to kiss him throughout the entire evening, often holding yourself back from leaning in, but now that the date had concluded, you didn’t want him to leave. 

This kiss was unlike any other, a swirling kaleidoscope of colours flashing behind your closed eyelids as your mouths moved in perfect harmony. Eddie’s strong hands held you firmly by the waist, grounding you in this extraordinary moment. 

Eddie wanted to roam his hands along your entire body badly, but he squeezed your hips instead to keep them in place. Your body reacted to the pressure of his fingertips, and you pressed your body further into his, and he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth. 

Groping at one another like a bunch of horny teenagers, you both didn't stop until your neighbour's door unlatched, starting you both.

“Do you want to come inside?” 

“I do, but if I come in, I’m going to want to take things further… and you deserve more than a hook-up on the first date.” 

“But what if I wanted to?” You look up at him with those mesmerizing eyes, and he fights with himself in his mind.

“You’re killing me here,” he chuckles, and you slip your hands around his waist, proceeding to kiss his neck. 

“Shit, no, no. God, I’m such an idiot. Fuck. Please. I wanna treat you right.” 

“Okay,” you sigh, disappointed but not offended. 

“I’ll call you,” Eddie promised before giving you one more needy kiss, then reluctantly pulling away.

You and Eddie have been seeing one another for a few weeks now and still have yet to move past making out in the hallway of your apartment. 

The more time spent apart, the more anxious you have become. Your omega yearned for Eddie. You wanted him so badly you had the crazy idea to stop taking your suppressants. You stopped taking them becuse you wish for Eddie to breed you- but the stopping of your suppressant only made your hormones go haywire, and your heat came on much more quickly than the doctor had said it would.

You had failed to mention the amount of time you had been spending one-on-one with an alpha and the way you reacted to him in the process. Your body felt like it was on fire, you had been sweating all day, you were sent home early from your shift because it was clear to Steve what had been happening and there was no way he would be around for that. 

You got home, and your nest didn’t feel right. You piled the shirts and pants that you had seen Eddie in, the faint smell of him lingering, but it wasn‘t enough. This was the first time you experienced heat since your first one a few years ago. You didn’t want to go through it again without an alpha with you, but you hadn’t even had a chance to talk about it with Eddie. Your decision was rash, and you became nervous to bring it up. You wanted to sleep with him so much that your omega acted for you, dumping out the pill bottle down the toilet so you didn’t change your mind. 

The cramps set on pretty quickly after you got home. The pain was so great that you almost passed out. You lay in your bed for hours, unable even to pick up the phone for anyone.

Eddie was getting increasingly worried. He had anticipated your call to confirm you got home safely, but over an hour had passed without a word. Perhaps you were asked to stay late? He had called your place around six times. Yes, it was excessive, but he couldn’t wait anxiously for you to call back. His concern overwhelmed him, prompting him to go to your workplace, hoping to find you safe.

He reluctantly asked Steve where you were, and when Steve told him, he sent you home because you were not feeling well. That’s when the alarms sounded off in Eddie’s head. His alpha entirely took over his actions, not even saying thank you or goodbye to Steve; he raced out of the coffee shop, back in his van, and towards your apartment. The closer he got to your door the more he could sense something was wrong. The smell was off, you weren’t happy, he could smell the stress emanating out from under the door.

You think you can hear a pounding at the door, but maybe that was just a part of your fever dream? You were burning up; your body was in so much pain from your heat that you could hardly keep your eyes open. Nothing felt right; you were so stressed you could hardly think straight, and the nest was so utterly wrong you hated it, but you had no choice.

You can hear more pounding and maybe you heard your name being called. You for sure hear a loud slam and an overwhelming aroma of leather and coffee but mixed with stress and anxiety.

A whimper escapes you when the smell strengthens and the noises become more audible. Your name was called repeatedly, but you hadn’t the strength to open your eyes.

“Baby!” Eddie rushed to your side when he saw you there, naked, curled up in the fetal position, skin slick with a layer of sweat.

It finally registered that it was your alpha with you in the room.

“Need you.” You reach for him, and he’s in the nest with you within seconds.

You take a deep breath in, and he purs, hoping it will soothe you as he holds your body against his.

“Baby, talk to me,” he coos.

“Hurts so bad,” You cry.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Need you”

“I’m here, baby.”

“No, I need you.” Your hand grazes his crotch, and Eddie understands now. You must be going into heat, but you told him you were on suppresents?

The two of you never spoke about taking things to the next step, not that Eddie didn’t want to. Trust, he wanted to, but he didn’t think you were ready.

“Baby, are-are you sure?”

“Please, I need you so badly, alpha.”

Hearing you utter those words triggered something in Eddie so primal that he produced a growl so low he startled himself.

Not taking any more time to mull it over, Eddie gently lets you go and slips between your legs. He sees your swollen clit, your slick drip from you; it’s soaked through your sheets, and the smell of it makes his eyes roll back into his skull before he dove in.

Out of all the times you’ve dreamt about Eddie between your legs for the first time, this was never the scenario.

A small whimper of relief left your lips as your Eddie’s mouth made contact with your mound. The soft hairs tickled Eddie’s nose as he explored your slick-coated folds, revelling in your taste. It was like nothing he had ever tasted; he wanted more and more; he was greedy -he primal.

The way his tongue slopes along your folds and up into your pussy was so good; you hate to think how he learned to please a pussy so well.

Your body was on overdrive, so sensitive that every touch was like you were on fire. His mouth felt so good on your lower lips; the familiar feeling of your orgasm came crashing through you so quickly.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, fuck you’re doing so well, sweet omega.” He massaged your clit as he talked you through your orgasm.

“Eddie.” Your hands grip his roots. He feels so good underneath you, but the pain is still there. It wouldn’t go away until he was fully inside.

“More, Eddie, please; I want your knot.”

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His pants and boxers were off as soon as you finished telling him what you needed.

His cock was at attention, and your mouth watered at the sight of it.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Your alpha has you.”

“Hurts,” you cry.

Eddie is mindful; he stretches you out with his fingers first, and he knows his size is of the larger stature.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby; I got you.” He aligns himself with your throbbing pussy and slowly pushes himself inside.

“Fuck” he grits through his teeth, never has he felt something so delicious.

Your head was spinning; nothing felt real, but your senses had been so heightened that you felt everything. The sweat dripping down your back, the electric touch of eddies hands on your waist, the way his cock stretches you so wide, and how he plunges himself so deep.

“Please, please, please,” You babble.

Eddie takes that as his cue to start pumping in and out of you. His knot was rapidly growing with each thrust, and it took everything in him not to plunge himself so deep inside. He took his time fucking you, making love to you.

He knew that you were it for him; even if the rumours were not true about fated mates, that didn’t matter. You were everything to him and more.

“Harder,” you plead.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, please; I need it so bad, Eddie. Need you so bad.” You grab onto his hips and push him in deeper. The thick base of his cock stretched you so well. Your body was made to take it as he ruts up inside of you.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” Eddie hisses. No one had ever taken his knot before, and god, was it good. Your tight dripping pussy wrapped around him as he plugged your hole.

Eddie’s cock was so deep inside you, and he kept rutting his hips up up up, hitting that delicious spot every time that your second orgasm washed through you like a tidal wave.

“shit,” Eddie couldn’t handle the way your pussy was like a vice on his cock. His seed spurting up into you and being locked in place by his knot only had your head spinning.

“Thank you. Your tears were streaming down your face, and Eddie repositioned both of you so you could sit up on his lap.

“That’s it, baby, I’ve got you. All you needed was your alpha to breed you, huh?”

“Not all,” you sniffle.

Eddie looks at you bewildered. What else could you be asking for? He cannot recall much of high school health class.

“Mark me, mate me, make me yours,” you beg.

“Wh-what? Princess, you’re not thinking straight. Its just the first few hours of your heat… we should talk about this.” He strokes your hair out of your face.

“No, please, Eddie! We are mates. Fated mates. I feel it in my bones, don’t you?” You try and hold back your tears but your heart feels so much for Eddie they come down freely.

“No baby, don’t cry. He wipes the tears away before pulling you in closer. Your naked body’s flush against one another. Your slick still trying to leak down your legs.

“I’m sorry, I love you. I want to be with you.”

You mumble into his neck, your nose graze his scent gland. You nuzzle your face into it before your teeth graze lower on his neck, daring to puncture.

“You love me?”

“Yes Eddie so much, it like I can’t breath when your not around.”

“No ones ever loved me before…”

“Oh Eddie, baby.” You kiss him like it was your last time you ever will. Your hips grind and Eddie’s cock hits that stops deep up inside you once again making you both main with pleasure.

“I love you so much, do-do it” he stutters. No way he could deny this connection any longer. You were right and he will do anything in his power to please you, to claim you, to have you, to love you.

“You sure?”

“Yes, baby, mark me. I want everyone to see who I belong to.”

You sink your teeth into the skin where his neck meets his shoulder and it’s like everything made sense. You never felt so much love, so much light and happiness. You could tell how much Eddie loved you just by the scent.

You lick at the wound and Eddie brushes your hair out of the way so he can claim you as his.

“You want my mark?”

“Please” you beg still grinding your hips trying to chase a third orgasm.

Eddie’s soft lips part against a higher point, closer to the middle of your throat and then it happens. His teeth sink into your skin and you feel a sing but then your orgasm hits you all at once. The connection between you two bound together for a lifetime. In that moment, it became undeniably clear to both of you that this was your destiny. Meeting Eddie at the grocery store was no mere coincidence; it was as if the universe had aligned to bring you together. Eddie had become your pillar of support, your perfect counterpart. This kind of serendipity doesn't come around for just anyone, and you felt incredibly fortunate to have found him.

“Holy shit”

“Wow”

You're both awestruck, soaking up the moment. Breathing in one another as Eddie’s knot shows no sign of deflating just yet.

Your heat would still be going full force for the next few days, however for now the pain has subsided.

“I love you.” Eddie whispers. “You’re the love of my life.”

“I love you Eddie” your arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer. “Now breed me.”

[leth-writes]

SOULMATE AU

-inspired by the mind-reading prompt from the soulmate prompts I reblogged

-also inspired by the posts of the lovely SlasherScream!

-the idea is essentially that once you meet, your minds merge

Bruce Wayne

Oh no. OH NO!

All i can picture is Bruce panicking. He’s terrified by the idea of you seeing into his head, of seeing how broken he feels he is. Bruce is ultimately dictated by his trauma and his love for his family, and these two forces are in constant conflict in his mind, leading to a mindscape that can be incredibly jarring. Sometimes it feels like his brain is being pulled in two between the logical and emotional halves, though the logical side often pushes the emotional side far, far down. He really suppresses those emotions in an attempt not to get hurt again.

Bruce has spent so much time suppressing his emotions that his mind is overly logical. Being in his mind is like being in an episode of an investigative show, constant thoughts and a whirlwind of deductions. It feels like he’s got the entire world figured out, especially before you’re able to really connect. He tries so hard to force you out of the darker corners of his mind, boxing them away in the deepest reaches so you can’t stumble into his deep, dark thoughts, worries, and memories.

When you first meet, his mindscape feels almost… shallow due to the boxing away of so many parts of him. It feels almost like you’re seeing Brucie, rather than Bruce; just a shallow facade meant to draw your attention away. This can be remedied by showing how much you trust him. Get comfortable around him, don’t show any judgment, and open up some of your own forgotten memories. Seeing such a display of kindness and trust will help convince him to be fully honest with you, but it takes a couple of months for him to grant you access to the totality of his mind. It’s slow-going, but it’s definitely worth it.

Bruce’s mindscape feels like a black and white detective film, funnily enough. It’s sharp and cold at first, but those edges meld together the more you unravel his hidden corners, creating a more impressionistic mindscape full of fleeting emotional impressions. It surprises you just how smart he can be; you knew he was a master detective but you weren’t expecting the level of deduction he’s truly capable of. He’s got you fully figured out in minutes.

When you blend together, it’s like a wonderful impressionistic melding of more logical and more empathetic mindscapes into one full world. Spend some time getting to know him, spend some time slowly opening up, and you’ll be rewarded with a beautiful experience. Moving forward, he’s going to be even more protective than he normally would, mainly out of fear; you know everything about him, which definitely puts a target on your back. Having someone who is mentally connected to one of the most powerful men in the city, both in and out of the cowl, is tantalizing to both supervillains and his enemies in his daily life. Don’t let the harsh words and rumors get to you, Bruce defends you in the public eye constantly. It becomes almost an inside joke among the press in Gotham; ask Brucie about his soulmate and you’ll see a cold side to him no-one’s ever noticed before.

Dick Grayson

Dick’s mindscape is, at first, seemingly one-note. When you first meld, it feels like his mind is a deep, clear pool; you feel like you can see right to the bottom. You both spend a lot of time just cuddling, exploring your shared mindscape together, feeling like you’ve found an oasis in the desert. It feels calming, like soothing balm to your overworked mind. Dick often compares your mind to a burst of color in the dark, feeling like you light his mind up, bringing positivity and light when he’s trapped in his dark thoughts. Don’t be fooled by the depths you’re able to access right away; Dick has some hidden compartments of his mind he’s not even consciously aware of.

Dick has locked his true longing for his parents, and his desire to lead a normal life, deep in the recesses in his mind, to save himself from emotional harm. He loves his parents to this day, and visits their grave to update them on his life all the time. It hurts him to think they aren’t there to see his accomplishments, but he knows deep down they would be proud. He begins writing letters and taking pictures of the two of you, all to place at their grave, so it feels they’re connected to him even now, with their deaths so far in his past. Please visit their grave with him; bring some flowers or some food, tell them about yourself and how much you love him. It’ll move him almost to tears.

Dick also feels a deep longing for a normal life. He’d never truly act on these urges, he can’t imagine ever giving up Nightwing, and feels a deep sense of responsibility for his city, but he does have some desires to experience the intimate, domestic life. He feels even more responsible for the safety of the city after he meets you, and might drive himself ragged trying to keep you safe by clearing out every villain in the city. He doesn’t stop until he’s almost killed, and he feels the panic and despair in your mind as you clutch his hand in the medbay, sobbing your eyes out. Afterwards, he spends more time on the domestic aspects of life, and reveals those hidden desires. Seeing you so upset, feeling your mind almost shatter under the weight of your fear and grief, motivates him to keep you safe by keeping him safe. He’s less likely to take risks, and sometimes even passes up the more dangerous missions to the Justice League as a whole. 

He totally gets you cheesy gifts. I think that, in a world of mind melds, there’d be stupid little keychains that say stuff like “I met my soulmate and all I got was this lousy keychain”. You hate it, but you use it as a keychain to remind yourself of him every time he’s away. He buys you a lot of Nightwing merch as well. Please wear it, even if it’s just to feel his mindscape stutter out of shock and awe. He loves how cozy you look in that oversized Nightwing sweater; he begs you to make it a permanent part of your nightly wardrobe.

Dick is known for his long rants to the press about how amazing you are, even though in actuality he gives them no identifying features. The press feels they know you so well they don’t even realize they have no idea who you are. He’s known for his smitten, lovestruck sighs and swooning every time they ask about you, beaming so hard his face hurts and filling everyone in on how you “just looked so cute wearing that oversized sweater, so cozy, I thought I was gonna die!”. It’s part facade, part reality. He’s just letting his true feelings out with the mushiest language possible.

Your melded mindscape is like a deep lake, mainly clear and visible, with some darker murkier parts you can explore together. It’s like a balm against overactive minds, calming and cooling down any tempers and giving you a space to explore yourself and your past with someone who’s truly welcoming.

Jason Todd

Jason’s mind is really intense, really quickly. It’s like a burst of color and noise, all of his worst feelings and thoughts being forced to the forefront by the surprise of the meld. He would do well with a calmer presence who can soothe his mental energy, bringing him down from that overactive constant anger and worry. It’s important to realize that Jason isn’t always gonna be like that, but the lazarus pit has really messed with his mental state in a lot of large, and even more unnoticed, ways.

The mental bond really goes a long way to calm him down. Having another person sharing his mindspace gives him a reason to see a therapist and work through his trauma, trying to make himself more appealing and less scary to you. Please let him know he doesn’t scare you; being able to feel that warmth and affection will go a long way in his journey to change. Jason ultimately wants to do better for you, even though he feels the lazarus pit has corrupted everything. He gets really emotional, knowing his death and the pit have even corrupted something so sacred as a mental bond. Help him acknowledge that it isn’t his fault, and that you truly care for him, no matter the state of his thoughts, and you’ll unlock that softer, more tender side.

Jason deals with a lot of intrusive thoughts due to the pit. He’d love it if you helped, though he always reminds you it’s okay if you don’t feel able to do so. Just helping him let them pass, rather than trying to suppress them, will do wonders for his mental state and really help lighten up his mindscape.

Jason’s mindscape, at first, is like a storm over the north sea; huge, crashing waves and whipping, howling winds strong enough to split him in half. It can feel overwhelming, like you’re a little boat lost in this huge force of nature, with the threat of capsizing constant. However, please know that Jason would never, ever hurt you. He’d rather never see you again, no matter how much it would hurt him, than make you scared. As you two work together, going to therapy and doing calming exercises, Jason’s mindscape will eventually reveal itself to be a calm night at sea, the waves like glass; clear and smooth, but still with that slight possibility of harm. It can be really nice just spending time with him, him reading aloud his favorite Jane Austen novel, being gently rocked by the soothing wave of the mind meld.

Jason is intensely private. The press quickly finds out not to so much as mention his soulmate, as it sets him off into an angry rant about privacy and what it means to be a public figure. Jason has never hated his fame more than when he wasn’t able to go out with you without fear of being discovered. Uncle Clark offers to fly you both out to another country, giving you opportunities to date without the threat of the press breathing down your neck. He’ll take you to a French restaurant, surprising you with his perfect French, and then eat ice cream with you while you stare into the waters of the Seine as the sun sets. He’s a true romantic at heart.

[alygator77]

∘₊✧─moment of passion─✧₊∘

✧ note // this is part two for moment of weakness ✧

✧ pairing. satoru gojo x fem! reader

✧ summary. after getting in an argument with satoru, you unexpectedly encountered a vicious battle, putting you on the brink of death. feeling remorseful for his actions and words as you lay in the infirmary bed, satoru wants to do everything he can to make it up to you.

✧ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, smut, bit of angst, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, penetration, oral (f & m receiving), praising, kinda breeding, shower/bath sex, reader does have a slight panic attack (with comfort), satoru taking care of you, satoru and reader in their 20s and both work at jujutsu high, both are powerful sorcerers

✧ words: 12.5k (ye i be yappin)

✧ a/n. the second part to moment of weakness! thanks everyone for your kind words :') i really had a lot of fun writing this. hope part two is to your liking ♡

Satoru feels an overwhelming sense of guilt and regret as he sits by your bedside in the infirmary of Jujutsu High. During each daily visit, he sits beside you for hours on end, silently clutching your hand and staring at your unconscious form. Each day that passes without you waking up is a day of torture for him.

He slowly watches your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, his expression a mixture of guilt and worry as he constantly replays the memory of your last conversation together. It was a stupid fight, and he regrets every harsh word that was exchanged between the two of you. He will not accept it – will not accept that those will be the last words he speaks to you.

Satoru desperately wishes he could take it all back, to beg you to forgive him. But for now, all he can do is sit by your bedside, waiting for you to wake up as he prays for you to pull through. He longs so much for you to open your eyes and look at him again, to hear your voice. The thought of losing you is unbearable for him, and he's willing to do anything to make sure it never happens.

As consciousness slowly comes back to you, you find yourself staring at the familiar white ceiling of Jujutsu High's infirmary, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the pristine cleanliness of the room confirming your location. Soft voices can be heard talking in the room, but they sound muffled and indistinct, the words difficult to make out.

You take a second to gather your bearings, your mind fuzzy and disoriented. It takes a moment for you to realize that the voices belong to none other than Satoru and Shoko. They continue their conversation in hushed tones, not noticing you regaining your consciousness. Their soft and indistinct words blend together in a low murmur.

You can tell that Satoru’s voice is laced with worry, his words carrying immense desperation. "It's been days now...why isn't she waking up?"

"She's been through a lot. Her body needs time to recover." Shoko’s voice is calm and steady.

Your body feels weak and fatigued as you struggle to sit up in the bed. Your muscles barely respond to your commands as you only manage to fumble around the mattress feebly. The shuffling of your bedsheets causes Shoko and Satoru to immediately take notice of your movement, their conversation coming to a halt as they turn their attention towards you.

They both rush to your side, faces filled with relief and concern. Shoko is the first to act, her eyes widening as she sees you weakly attempt to sit up. With a firm touch, she gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

"Don't try to sit up too quickly," she warns, her voice stern. "You're weak and battered, your body needs time to recover."

Satoru is beside you in an instant, his hand gently resting on your own, tracing soft circles.

"You’re awake,” he exhales. “Take it easy, don't overexert yourself."

Shoko checks your vitals, her hands moving quickly and efficiently as she assesses your condition. "How are you feeling?"

You turn to Satoru and can see the concern etched in his features. Your heart sinks, immediately recounting the last time you saw his face – the coldness in his icy eyes. And now this look he is giving you – you can’t help but feel disappointed in yourself. Despite everything that happened, you always have hated causing him to worry. In an attempt to hide your slight discomfort, you give him a strained smile. “A bit… groggy. Just feels like I have a really bad hangover.”

Shoko can't help but roll her eyes and snort at your comment, her expression a mixture of relief and sarcasm. "Only you would compare recovering from near-death to a hangover."

Satoru gives a small, flicker of a smile at your attempt to lighten the mood, but the worry still lingers in his eyes. "You gave us quite a scare," he mutters with a huff of a chuckle, "but I suppose it's good to see your sarcastic wit is still intact."

As Shoko continues checking your vitals, her hands move with practiced ease, maneuvering around the hospital bed with urgency and poise. "Honestly, you're lucky to be alive y/n. You sustained quite a lot of damage."

You feel Satoru’s grip on your hand tighten a fraction, his eyebrows furrowing at Shoko’s comment. "Are you in any pain? Do you remember what happened?”

“I’m not experiencing pain, my body just feels weak,” you rest your head back on the infirmary’s stiff pillow and look up at the ceiling fan – your mind spinning just as much as it while you try to recall the events that happened. What did happen? You remember arguing with Satoru and then... nothing. Just a fog of uncertainty. Your eyebrows furrow as sadness washes over you – though you can’t recall what triggers this emotion, your body responds on its own volition. “I remember pieces… I think... it’s a bit of a haze.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he picks up your somber expression. He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles with warmth. "Pieces, hmm?" he mutters.

You feel Shoko’s hands move quickly but gently over your body as she continues your check-up.

"That's not unusual," she says. "Trauma can sometimes cause memory gaps. Especially considering what you've been through."

As she finishes, she takes a step back, a small sigh escaping her lips, clutching her clipboard as she charts your vitals. "You'll be weak and tired for a while. The pain will probably come later, once your body fully registers what it's been through.” Her eyes flicker up to you and Satoru as she breaks her focus from her notes. “I need to report your condition to Principal Yaga. Gojo, will you watch over her in the meantime?"

Satoru nods, his gaze never leaving your face. "Yeah, of course."

The door closes behind Shoko with a soft thud, leaving you and Satoru alone in the infirmary. He remains seated in the chair beside your bed and his hands do not waver from yours – the soothing circles not stopping. You feel that with each gentle brush of his fingertips, he is touching you as if you are the most delicate thing in his life.

The silence that falls between you both is heavy. There is still a lingering sting in your heart at the sight of Satoru. You cannot shake the image of that once cold stare of his, the one he directed directly at you during your argument – and his words, the way he claimed that your shared passion meant nothing to him… it replays in your head constantly like a broken record.

Yet despite it all, despite all that was said and done, you undeniably wanted him by your side. Feeling conflicted, it is clear there is much that needs to be said, but neither of you speak up for a few moments. It is ultimately Satoru who breaks the silence, his voice soft and low, barely above a whisper.

"You scared the crap out of me. Don't ever do that again."

“Guess I caused you trouble again…huh?” unable to hide the somber tone in your voice, you force a smile in hopes to mask it.

"I'm not worried about the trouble you cause," he mutters, his voice laced with both irritation and affection. "I'm worried about you, dummy."

You blink as he squeezes your hand gently, his gaze softening as he fixes it on your features. He braces himself with a deep breath. "You've always caused me trouble. But I'd rather deal with a lifetime's worth of trouble than lose you," releasing an exhale – his voice evokes vulnerability as you hear it tremble slightly.

"I know I've been an ass... and I know my words have hurt you... but the thought of losing you... it..." shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, he struggles to find the right word to express his feelings, his emotions getting the best of him.

"I..." He pauses, his snowy lashes fluttering open as his gaze locks with yours – eyes blue with sorrow. "I'm sorry. For the way I acted and what I said. The fear I felt when I found you in that village, hurt and unconscious... it was a waking nightmare."

Satoru reaches out his free hand and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment, caressing your face tenderly.

"You have no idea… how much you mean to me," he murmurs, "I don't know what I'd do without you... I can’t lose… this." He intertwines his fingers with yours, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. His hands are a bit clammy upon yours – is he nervous? You’ve never seen him be so vulnerable with you. You look down at your hand, intertwined with his, and shift your gaze back to meet his own.

“And what exactly is, this, Satoru?” you whisper, a slight tremble in your voice. “I’m so confused. You constantly send me mixed signals.”

Satoru swallows hard at your question, his hand still holding onto yours tightly, as if holding onto you for dear life. He hesitates for a moment, struggling to articulate his feelings and thoughts.

After giving him a moment, you continue “You need to let me in. I can’t understand how you feel unless you tell me.”

“This… us,” he murmurs, his voice strained with emotion. “Honestly, I don't know what we are either. I can't define it, but I know how I feel about you... and it scares me.”

He releases a shaky exhale, his gaze breaking from you momentarily as he looks away. "You're right, I know I've been giving you mixed signals. But every time I tried to get closer, something held me back. Letting people in... it's not something I'm good at."

You feel his grip on your hand tighten, his thumb gently stroking the skin on the back of your knuckles as he slowly adverts his eyes back to your own. "But you're right... I need to let you in. You deserve to know... everything." He pauses, his eyes searching your face as he chooses his next words carefully. "The truth is, I love you... I've loved you for a long time. And it terrifies me." Satoru’s confession hangs in the air, his words ringing with raw honesty.

His eyes soften as he watches you take it in. "I didn't want to admit it... even to myself," he whispers. "I thought if I kept my distance, if I played it cool, I could protect you from the danger that comes with loving me. But the truth is... I'm not good at staying away from you."

He gently brushes a tear from your cheek that you hadn't even realized had fallen.

Reaching up, you lightly place your free hand upon his. You can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, his pulse pounding slightly faster than usual. As you stare into his blue eyes filled with a mixture of love, fear, and vulnerability, you finally speak the words that have been ringing in your mind since your fight.

“You… when you picked me up from the bar. What we did… you said it didn’t mean anything,” you feel your voice tremble slightly as you try to prevent any more tears from falling.

Satoru’s gaze flickers momentarily as guilt and regret flash across his face. His eyes shift away from yours, unable to hold your hurt gaze as the memory of his harsh words come back to him.

"I was a bastard," he mutters under his breath, his eyes averted from your own as his white tousles hide his shame. "Those words... they were a lie. What we did... what we shared...” he pulls his gaze back up to meet your own, “it meant everything to me.”

"I was trying to protect myself... protect you... by pushing you away. But the truth is...” He sighs heavily, his fingers fidgeting with yours as he searches for the right words to say, finally letting out a defeated groan. “God, I wanted you more than anything in that moment. I still do. I was scared... and I thought if I pretended it didn’t matter, it would be easier to keep my distance.”

The raw honesty in Satoru’s confession causes your chest to tighten. The words you’ve desperately wanted to hear, his words, cut through any lingering doubt in your heart. The truth of his feelings and his vulnerability laid bare before you – you feel the tears well up in your eyes. Damnit, you can’t hold them back anymore.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, shuddering as you try to compose yourself. When you open your eyes to meet his, your voice is soft yet firm. “You hurt me, Satoru. Your words... they stung.”

"I know," he mutters softly, strained with guilt. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for hurting you. I was an idiot, a coward. I should've told you the truth from the start.” He swallows heavily, his throat bobbing with the weight of his emotions. “I hope you can forgive me, though I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness… so I understand if you can’t.”

With a shaky exhale, you sniffle and wipe your tears – your lips curl into a half smile. “I’m the real idiot… can’t believe I fell in love with such a fool.”

Satoru’s face transforms at your words, his eyes widening slightly and a flicker of hope igniting within them. The tension in his shoulder’s eases slightly as a wry smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“But don’t think you’re off the hook. You’ve got a lot of making it up to me to do. I won’t go easy on you Satoru Gojo.”

“Oh, I know you won’t make it easy on me. You never do,” He lets out a small laugh, a mixture of disbelief and relief. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“Believe me, I know I'll have to work my ass off to earn your forgiveness. But I’m up for the challenge. I’m gonna make sure you never doubt how I feel about you ever again. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, his voice filled with determination. “I’ll grovel, beg, whatever it takes to make up for my idiotic behavior.”

“The world’s strongest sorcerer on his knees for me? Now that is a sight I can get used to,” you snort and can’t help but give him a smug smirk.

Gojo huffs at your comment, rolling his eyes playfully while he pretends to take offense at your words. "Hey, careful there, I have an image to maintain," his brows furrow dramatically as he teases you with a mock hurt voice.

Pleased with his dramatics, you let out an infectious laugh – a wide smile expands across Satoru’s lips, the sound is like music to his ears. He truly missed your laugh.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” you snicker.

“Careful, princess,” he warns mockingly. “Don’t rile me up too much otherwise I might actually have to fulfill that fantasy for you.” His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “I have no problem getting on my knees for you in other contexts. But trust me, I'll find a way to make you kneel for me too.”

You feel the warmth rise up to your cheeks as your eyes widen. “S-Satoru!” you pull away from him and whine as you bring your hands to your face, attempting to hide your embarrassment. He snickers gleefully, his eyes gleaming with mischief – he knows exactly how to get to you, and he's enjoying every second of it. “You’re being unfair. Shut up and help me up from this bed, would you?” you pout.

Unable to keep the shit eating grin off his face, a low chuckle escapes his lips. “Aww, you’re just too fun to tease. But alright, alright. As you wish, my princess.” Satoru lifts himself from his seat and nears you on the bed. He reaches down to gently pull the infirmary’s bedsheets off of you and his gaze drifts down to your damaged body.

His grin fades as he takes in the sight of your battered form, his heart clenching with worry. He can see the extent of your injuries more clearly now. The burns, the bruises, and the bandages covering a widespread of significant wounds. “Hey... are you sure you should be getting up? You're hurt pretty badly, love."

Looking down at your own wounded frame, it’s as if suddenly everything hit you all at once. You feel a lingering pain begin to course throughout you – your body finally registering what it’s been through. The extent of your injuries causes you to wince slightly in discomfort.

The helplessness of your condition causes a wave of frustration to wash over you. You hate being like this – you’ve always tried to keep up with Satoru and Suguru, and you know that him seeing you like this is going to cause him to worry even more. "I know," you whisper back with a strained voice. "But I can't just lay here all day. I feel so... hopeless. I want to get up and move, even just a little. Sitting around doing nothing is going to drive me insane."

Satoru studies your face as he hesitates for a moment – Shoko did say you need time to recover, but he’s always had a hard time saying no when he sees that determined look in your eyes. He knows trying to keep you in bed against your will is futile – you’ve always been unbelievably stubborn when you set your mind to something – it's one of the things he finds both endearing and frustrating about you. Finally relenting, he gives in with a resigned sigh and reluctant nod.

"I understand," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "How about we try walking a few steps first to see how you feel. But if you start to feel faint or dizzy, you have to promise to tell me, alright? You're not going to do yourself any favors if you push yourself too hard too soon."

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, though you can hear the uncertainty in your own voice. “I won’t sit here doing nothing.”

Satoru carefully helps you sit up, gently slipping an arm behind your back as he takes your arm and wraps it around his own shoulder for support. His hands slowly and gently guide you into a comfortable position and his body feels warm and firm against yours, providing a support for you to lean on. As he slowly ushers you to the edge of the bed, you feel a tinge of soreness in your body, but it’s nothing unbearable.

"Just take it slow, okay?" he murmurs. "And you better tell me if you need to rest, no pushing through it."

With a gentle pull, Satoru helps you to your feet. As you take a subtle step off the bed, you cannot help but wince slightly the moment your weight drops to the ground. A lingering pain shoots throughout your body, but you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to distract yourself and muster through it. You refuse to admit it – refuse to let him worry too much.

"How do you feel? Is the pain bearable?" his brow lifts as he examines you, his voice laced with concern.

"Just a bit sore," you say, trying to brush it off. "It’s fine. I need to move around anyways, stretch my muscles."

He huffs at your response, shaking his head slightly. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. I can tell you're in pain, my Six Eyes don’t lie, sweetheart. You’re wincing and we haven’t even taken a single step yet.”

You roll your eyes at his concern and groan with a strained voice. "Satoru, I feel weak, not broken… just help me get to that chair over there.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?” he grumbles as his grip on you tightens. “But alright, if you're determined to make this difficult, I'll help you walk to the damn chair."

The journey to the chair feels like an eternity, each step causing a pained wince to escape your lips as Satoru carefully helps you with each tender step. His unwavering grip supports your weakened body and his gentle arms guide you into the infirmary’s seat slowly. Settling into the chair, you let out a loud exhale as your tense body begins to relax from the alleviating pressure.

Satoru’s own relieved breath escapes his mouth the moment you sit down as well – his hands lingering on your frame for a moment, as if not wanting to let you go just yet. He kneels down in front of you, his expression softening as he observes your fatigued form.

Taking in the lines of pain etched on your face, Satoru runs a gentle hand over your hair, his fingers tenderly brushing through the locks in a soothing motion. "There," he whispers, "You did good, you stubborn idiot. Now can you finally admit that you’re hurting?”

You close your eyes for a moment, relishing in the comforting feeling of his fingers flowing through each tousle despite his snarky comment. As you lean into his hand, for a brief moment, the pain seems to fade away.

"No, I..." you waver, losing the energy to put up this front. As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t combat how worn out you feel – your own stubborn attitude finally begins to yield. Opening your eyes, you give Satoru a sidelong glance, your eyes meeting his for a moment before you let out a soft sigh. “Fine. I admit it. I'm hurting… a lot.”

Satoru flashes a wry grin at your admission, a small sense of victory dancing within his eyes. "Took you long enough," he teases, still gently stroking your waves as his fingers tangle in your locks, giving you a gentle tug. "See, was that so hard? Admitting you're in pain is the first step to recovery, you know."

You exhale and release a slight chuckle – although you loathed being in this state, you had comfort knowing Satoru was here to take care of you. But as the breath escapes your mouth, you are suddenly met with a sharp discomforting twinge upon your abdomen. Flinching from the pain, you shuffle to readjust your position in the chair.

Satoru’s expression turns serious as his brow furrows with concern – he watches your body betray the strength you’re adamantly trying to cling onto. After withdrawing his hand from your head, he rests it gently on your knee. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Right…here.” Lifting up your shirt slightly, you observe Satoru’s eyes widen, his hand on your knee clenching involuntarily as you reveal your abdomen – the bandages wrapped around you are stained in blood.

You grimace as the cool air hits the wetness of your blood-stained body and Satoru’s expression grows more serious. "Jesus," he mutters under his breath, his jaw clenching. "We need to have Shoko change your bandages… y/n, what did this to you? What the hell happened? Was it a curse?"

“I…” you hesitate, suddenly it feels like your head is spinning – the lack of blood making you just as light headed as the thick fog sheathing your memory. You lift your hand to your temple and close your eyes, furrowing your brow and pursing your lips as you desperately try to put the pieces together. Although your memories are hazy, you vaguely recall being with Suguru.

Satoru gently takes your hand in his, his touch firm yet tender. "Hey, take it easy," he says softly. "Don't strain yourself. Let’s take it nice and slow, okay? Can you tell me where you were last? Do you remember anything that happened beforehand?"

You nod slowly, swallowing hard. Images of the dim atmosphere, the sound of the calming music, the aroma of delicious cuisine – they all start to come back to you.  “I… I remember getting dinner with Suguru. I think he took me to a village.”

Satoru’s expression tightens at the mention of Suguru's name. He can feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, but he quickly pushes it aside, his concern for you taking precedence over his own feelings. Why wasn’t Suguru there then? He needed more answers.

“Yes, Koji village,” he echoes. “That’s the location you sent me on your phone, it’s where I found you unconscious. You were with him...? What happened then? Do you remember anything after dinner?”

You take a moment to recollect your thoughts – suddenly your eyes widen in shock and your lower lip begins to quiver. Was your mind playing tricks on you? The gruesome imagine of Suguru killing civilians, the visual of blood splattering on him, the smell of burning flesh, the screams, the empty look in his eyes. It becomes too much – you feel your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he watches the color drain from your face. He can see the realization and horror in your eyes, and he knows you are remembering something awful. He rests his hands on your shoulders and rubs them soothingly, trying to ease your shaking frame.

"Hey, hey," he repeats, his voice softer this time. "It's alright. You don't have to recount everything that happened. Take your time, I'm right here with you."

You were on the brink of breaking down. You feel a tear start to fall down your cheek, your breaths coming in ragged – no control over your body, over your emotions. A high-pitched ringing sound begins to buzz in your ears as the sounds around you drown out. Were… you having a panic attack? You stare at Satoru in shock, his lips are moving as he tries to call your name, but you can barely hear him, can barely focus – the images were overwhelming you.

Satoru’s heart clenches in his chest as he sees the tremors wracking your body. He's never seen you like this before, so vulnerable and terrified. He squeezes your hand gently, trying to keep you grounded while his other hand tenderly cups your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

"Hey, hey, focus on me," he whispers. "Just take a deep breath. It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here. You're safe."

As the pace of your breath increases, you desperately try to cling to Satoru’s calm presence, but your trauma is formidable – you find your mind to be caught in a cycle of fear and pain. The tightness in your chest makes you begin to gasp, trying desperately to get air inside your lungs as sobs escape your throat.

"Baby, breathe," he urges, his voice low and soothing. "Take a deep breath. Just focus on me. I know it's hard, but you have to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Satoru’s voice is steady, commanding, and filled with tenderness – a lifeline in the midst of your panic. He keeps his grip firm on your hands, anchoring you to reality. "In and out, alright?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with concern. "Just listen to my voice and breathe with me. In... and out."

Satoru begins to take slow, deep breaths, counting silently in his head – you mimic him, the breaths gradually bringing you back to the present. Once you begin to stabilize, Satoru lifts himself up to his knees, pulling you close to him until your head is resting against his chest. His arms envelop your still shaking frame, holding you up as you regain control.

You continue to exhale into his chest, a tremble with each release. He holds you tightly against him, his hand stroking your hair in a soothing motion, waiting for your emotions to settle completely. The room is filled with only the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of his heart. He silently holds you for a long moment – once he feels the tremors in your body subside, you pull away and your eyes connect.

Slightly releasing his hold, Satoru’s hands still rest on your shoulders, a silent assurance that he's still there, still close. His expression is filled with concern as he studies you – although your face is etched with sadness, he is relieved that your breathing is steady now and your tears have subsided.

"You alright?" he asks softly. "Can you talk to me now?"

“Yes,” you whisper, voice still slightly trembling. “I remember everything now.”

Satoru takes a moment to absorb your words, his jaw tensing slightly as he senses the turmoil behind them. He knows whatever you're about to say isn't going to be easy. He takes your hand again, his fingers stroking your palm gently as he gives you a soft nod. "Okay. Tell me… everything."

“The village,” you murmur, your words feeling immensely heavy. “Suguru killed them all… and he almost killed me.”

Satoru blinks at you in disbelief – his eyes widening as he hears your words, his grip on your hand tightening. Did he hear you correctly?

"What?" his voice barely above a whisper. "Suguru… did that?”

Satoru takes a deep breath trying to calm his racing thoughts. Suguru – his closest friend. There is no way… he can't believe what he's hearing, but the look on your face is telling him that you're not lying. A mixture of shock and anger begin to bubble up within him.

"He almost… what?" his tone becomes sharp as a low growl emanates his throat – his eyes flicker down to your battered body briefly. "He hurt you?"

You swallow hard and nod, your eyes studying Satoru’s own as you can see the hurt pooling behind them. You are unsure where to begin – unsure if you have the willpower to even relive it, because speaking about it feels like it will make it true. You desperately wanted it not to be true – for this to be some terrible nightmare.

The intense gaze that you share with Satoru abruptly snaps apart, interrupted from the infirmary door swinging open – Shoko and Yaga enter the room swiftly. In that moment, Satoru’s expression darkens further, his first clenching in disbelief as Yaga confirms the worst.

“Y/n, pardon the intrusion. I was just given a report from a survivor at Koji village. We were told that Geto Suguru massacred the entire village. He has been missing for days.”

∘₊✧

Your recovery period is by no means lonely – Satoru is constantly by your side after hearing the news. He can’t help but feel high strung knowing Suguru is missing. He wants to be there to protect you at all costs.

Throughout the passing days, you can see how worn-out Satoru’s become. Though he tries to hide it, the exhaustion in his features are prevalent, the bags under his sapphire eyes grow darker with each passing day. Despite his fatigue, he doesn't complain, not once does he even mention how tired he is, but you undoubtably know. So much is expected of Satoru, him being the strongest and all, yet rather than going home to sleep he chooses to come to the infirmary after his duties, immediately slumping into the chair next to your bed with his normally immaculate hair looking disheveled.

Shortly after Yaga confirmed Suguru’s crimes, as hard as it was, you filled Satoru in on all the details of what had happened – including the conversation that you shared with Suguru before he began spilling blood. Satoru’s worst fears were confirmed. The realization that Suguru would target you, knowing that you were his Achilles heel – it crushed him and shook him to the core.

Satoru always knew deep down that you were his greatest weakness, anyone who wanted to hurt or control him could easily do so by targeting you – hence why he would always push you away in the past. But now, hearing that his friend, someone he trusted, would exploit that fact… it leaves him with a bitter taste of betrayal. Suguru knew that if Satoru joined his ambition, his dreams could become reality – after all, Satoru is the strongest, nobody would be capable of stopping them.

Mustering through ten tiresome days of physical therapy, vitals, medication and bland hospital food, your recovery is at long last within reach. You’re able to move easily now, with your strength finally returning to you, but this also makes you all the more restless – you are ready to get out of this dreaded hospital bed.

“Looks like you’re free to go!” Shoko looks down at her clipboard and back up at you smiling.

The words you’ve been itching to hear. A wide grin spreads across your face from your unreserved delight – you were so excited to finally go home. Your eyes instantly flicker over at Satoru sitting beside the infirmary bed. He stands up from his chair, stretching out his limbs slightly, and a small smirk crosses his lips as he meets your gaze. "Ready to get out of here, princess?"

Beaming in excitement, you spring up from the edge of your bed with an unwavering grin and leap into Satoru’s arms, feeling the rumble of his low chuckle as his warmth engrosses you in an embrace. Lifting your head up from where it was buried in his chest, you meet his eyes. “Please, get me the hell out of here.”

He grins down at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "As you wish," he declares. With you still in his arms, he turns to Shoko and nods his thanks. "We'll be taking our leave now. Thanks for everything, Shoko."

“Right then,” she muses. As Shoko turns to leave, she hums and flashes you both a sheepish grin. You can feel her eyeing the two of you with a curious expression. Ah, that’s right – she hasn't been filled in on the details of what's happened… you never did get the chance to tell her about how your relationship has blossomed with Satoru. Later, you think.

After the door clicks shut behind Shoko, Satoru holds you close, his grip firm yet gentle – lifting his free hand, he prepares to wave his hand sign to teleport. “Here we go,” he mutters into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t throw up this time, okay?”

You laugh and roll your eyes – that night, when he teleported you eagerly, it felt like a lifetime ago after everything you’ve been through. “Very funny,” you say sarcastically. “Yeah well, I’m not drunk this time Satoru.”

"True, you're not drunk,” he barks out a laugh. “So, hopefully, I won't have to hold your hair back this time, sweetheart."

You huff and shake your head at his teasing while he adjusts his grip a little more firmly around your waist. "Hold on tight, princess. You know the drill."

You nod, and the sensation of being pulled in all direction’s envelopes your body – you feel yourself thrust through eternity, and with a blink of an eye, there you are in your apartment. Your gaze flickers from the sofa to the kitchen, to the small collection of photographs and trinkets scattered around the space. It is peaceful and quiet – undisturbed, just as you left it.

He watches as you look around the familiar surroundings, a small sigh escaping his lips. His grip releases slightly as he allows you to stand on your own – but his hands remain on your waist with a lingering touch.

“Home sweet home,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on your face with a relaxed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Feels good, huh? Miss it?”

You exhale your own sigh of relief, slightly pulling away from him. “Yeah. I for one can’t wait to take a bath. The infirmary’s quarters are nothing to ride home about.”

Satoru chuckles at your comment, his eyes full of amusement. "Oh, princess, if you think you're going to get a peaceful bath, you're mistaken."

His smirk widens as he pulls you closer to him, his arm sliding around your waist while his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "You think I'm letting you out of my sight for even a second after everything that's happened?"

Satoru’s words send a shiver down your spine, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and seductive. “S-Satoru!” you whine. As he watches a flush of heat rise up your cheeks from his words, a low chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You honestly think I'm going to let you have a peaceful bath when I haven't felt you in weeks?” he purrs, his voice dripping with honey. “Let you soak in the hot water all alone, when I could be there with you, hands roaming across your skin, touching you in all the right places? Come on, sweetheart. We never did finish what we started last time…”

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours. His face is so close that you can feel his hot breath dance upon your skin, his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating off of him in waves. You can see the desire swimming in his eyes, the way his gaze rakes over your face, as if he can't get enough of you.

As his lips begin to graze the edge of your jawline, you mewl – the feather-light kisses against your skin trailing down you as he carves a gentle path towards the crook of your neck. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer as you clench the fabric of his shirt. Dipping your head back, you invite his kisses to deepen as you expose more of your flesh for him to feast on.

He pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply, before his lips slightly part and his tongue flicks out, trailing a wet path along your pulse point. “S-Satoru..” your breath flutters, and he feels the rapid beat of your heart against his mouth.

A low groan emanates from his throat as he can feel the heat rising on you – God he’s been craving this. He pulls you even tighter against him, his hands gripping your curves, fingers digging into the skin underneath your thin skirt as he presses his hips into yours.

He begins to nibble at your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he sucks, leaving small marks while his hands slide to grip and caress the plush of your ass. “Wh-What’s gotten into you?” you moan breathily as the aching need between your legs begins to pool from his touch.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes darkened with desire as he looks into your own. “You,” he whispers gruffly. “It’s all you. You drive me crazy, princess.” His gaze is smoldering and his lips are tantalizingly close to yours.

Closing the distance, your lips capture his in a deep, passionate kiss. His arms trail down your waist, snaking under your thighs as he effortlessly pulls you up. You press your chest flush against his own as he holds you, deepening your kiss as you wrap your legs around him and his hands grip your backside.

Satoru’s tongue explores your mouth in a heated frenzy as he carries you across the room and towards your bedroom. Your kiss is frenetic, as if each crash between your lips is insatiable. He halts his stride through the hallway to the bedroom as he presses you against a wall for a moment, his body pinning you there as he kisses you hungrily. You arch your back against him, your fingers tangling in his messy ivory hair as you feel a hand glide up your shirt, gripping your supple breast firmly. He groans into your mouth, his cock throbbing as his body responds to kissing you, touching you – the tension between you thick and electric.

He pulls away, breath mingling with yours, his chest heaving against you as he looks down at your kindled expression. "Fuck, I missed you. You're driving me crazy," he growls, "I've been waiting patiently for you to recover, I can’t wait any longer.”

As he collides his lips back against yours, his grip adjusts on you, allowing you to feel his length twitch between your legs. The pressure of him against your clothed core makes you desperately crave more contact as you increase the pace of your sloppy kisses with heavy breathes. Once you enter your bedroom, he swiftly throws you onto the bed, following quickly after as his body looms over you.

He stares down at you with a hunger – tousles of his disarranged hair hanging down as his icy blue eyes sweep over you, raking in the sight of your lips, plump and swollen as they glisten from the remnants of your shared kiss. You feel your heart thudding against your ribcage like a maddened drum as your chest rises and falls, the heat radiating from your body.

“Don’t hold back ‘toru,” you mewl while you slide your hands up his chest and down his broad shoulders. “I need you so bad.”

A low growl escapes him as your words reach his ears, your plea pushing him even further over the edge. "Oh princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "You have no idea how long I've been holding back. I won’t. I won’t hold back now."

He lowers himself to you, lifting your shirt off of you as he begins trailing kisses upon your abdomen. Once his lips reach the hem of your skirt, his fingers begin to play along the trim of the fabric. His touch is slow and deliberate as he pulls it down, exposing your black laced underwear, already soaked from the pooling warmth between your thighs.

His breath hitches at the sight, and he lets out a low growl, “Fuck.” His body responds intensely as he feels himself throb at the sight of you. "You’re soaking wet," he murmurs. "I've been aching to touch you for so long."

You shiver from the sensation of his breath dancing on your thighs while he peppers kisses up them, until finally his lips are met with your clothed center. "Can’t stop thinking of last time.. I’m desperate to feel you against me, to hear your sweet moans," his voice is sultry as he slowly runs his fingers up and down your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your core.

Each time he pulls away, you groan in frustration, your hips buckling forward and that tingling ache between your legs, eager for him to touch you. “Satoru, please... need you to touch me.”

With a low hum of approval, he leans in, his lips hovering just millimeters away from the spot you ache for him most. "Well, what’s this? So needy… are you begging for me?" a smirk playing on his lips. "Go on then. Use your words sweetheart," he purrs as his fingers tease the edge of your underwear, his touch feather-light. “Tell me what you want. Need to hear you say it.”

A shiver of anticipation runs through your body as he leans in, your body trembling with a shockwave of desire as his fingers trace intimate patterns against your skin. A moan escapes your lips, your breath hitching as you cry out, “Fuck, ‘toru. Please, please. Touch me, I need you. Can’t wait any longer..”

He grins in response to your pleading, his expression smug and satisfied as he revels in your desperation. "Hmm..." he hums, his fingers pulling your underwear down to expose your pretty folds. "Begging suits you, you know. Told you’d I’d have you begging for me.”

As you lay bare before him, he relishes at the sight of you dripping with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Didn’t get a good look last time. Been eager to taste you.” He inhales and licks a long strip across your cunt up to your sensitive bud. A needy moan escapes your lips and your hips shutter under him as his warm breath murmurs against your entrance.

Your moan is like music to his ears, sending a shiver down his spine and making his length grow, pressing firmly against the fabric of his pants. He grips your hips and buries his face deep within you, as if trying to mold you against him. You can’t help but moan more, breathless while his tongue works extensively, exploring every inch of your womanhood, wanting to ingrain the taste of you into his memory.

Arching your back, you look down at him to be met with his gaze, intense, almost feral – a gaze that could set fire to the room. The hunger within him is barely contained as he drinks you in like a man deprived of water. Each flick of his tongue causes a primal need to pulse through his veins and shoot to his cock, throbbing and desperate to claim you.

He pulls back for a brief moment, panting slightly as he rakes in your flushed face, painted in pleasure as your chest rises and falls with ragged breaths. A smirk plays on his lips – lips glistening with your essence. "You taste so good.” With a devious glint in his eyes, he reaches down to your sensitive bud. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure and a moan escapes your mouth as he begins to massage your clit with soft, circular motions. “Enjoying yourself?" he muses, his voice low and sultry.

“Feels good ‘toru,” you manage to gasp out. “Please… more.”

His smirk widens as he hears your breathless pleas, his fingers continuing their gentle torture on your sensitive button. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I’ll give you all the pleasure you deserve." He pushes his face between your legs again, his tongue dancing in your slit as he softly sucks and laps in your nectar.

You grip onto his head, your fingers pulling at his snowy locks while you plunge him further into you, rocking your hips upon his face, his nose rubbing against your vibrating clit. He lets out a low groan at your sudden fervor, and he feels his cock ache hard, almost unbearable, as it presses against his pants. Fuck, he loved it when you used his face like this. His tongue works quicker, matching the pace of your movements as you grind completely on top of him.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘toru. Don’t you dare stop, ‘m so close,” your voice trembles as your pitch rises – your vision goes blurry as the pressure builds below from your nearing peak. Your grip on his hair tightens and you are relentless with your movements, wanting so desperately to come undone on top of him – feeling like you’re ready to burst.

"Cum f’ me, princess," he murmurs, his voice breathless and gravelly as it vibrates against you. It brings you over the edge as you arch your back and rock intensely on top of his pretty face, rubbing it vigorously against your clit. Your pace ascends with each ardor movement – the tension within your core becomes unbearable, until finally, shivering and writhing in ecstasy as your toes curl and you moan his name, you cum on top of him. He lets out a deep strangled groan as he feels your walls tremble against him and the weight of your pleasure floods into him while you release yourself into his mouth. He drinks it all in, savoring each drop of your essence like sweet sweet honey.

When he pulls back with a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he admires your trembling figure, basking in the lingering waves of pleasure that ripple throughout your body. His own breath is ragged and his azure eyes are darkened with desire, yet glimmering with satisfaction as he licks his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me,” he murmurs, “Could watch you all day, princess. We’re just getting started.”

You close your eyes for a moment as you attempt to catch your breath, but they instantly flutter open as you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. You watch as Satoru sheds his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso – his muscles flexing with each movement. He fumbles with the belt of his pants, his hands desperate and impatient to free his aching length. The buckle clinks softly as he releases it from the loop and Satoru lets out a sigh of relief as he unleashes himself from the confines of his pants.

Biting your lip, you cannot take your eyes off of him. His evident erection throbs in front of you. You can’t believe how big it is. It’s girth thick, it’s length long with a flushed red tip, glistening from a pooling drop of precum, aching to be touched.

Satoru grips his length, rubbing the slit of his head as the bottom of his thumb slides over the bead of clear liquid. He pumps himself slowly a few times in preparation, his words dripping with confidence as he promises, “I’m going to make you scream my name.”

A hand sinks on the mattress beside your head, bracing himself as he leans in closer. His body is coiled with need and tense with anticipation, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he holds himself over you and strokes his cock, inching it closer to your cunt. He gazes down at you intently, his eyes dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of your flushed body lying underneath him.

You feel the head of his erection circle around your lower lips, teasing you with brief moments of collision before momentarily pulling back. As he rubs himself against your already sensitive clit, a soft gasp escapes your mouth and you moan sweetly, squirming underneath him as you feel the heat and wetness of your combined passion beginning to blend together at your entrance.

His breath hitches and his grip on the sheets tighten as he leans closer. "So sensitive for me, princess," his breath is hot against your ear, dripping with desire. "You feel so good under me like this. I want to hear all of your moans as I bring you to the brink of ecstasy.”

His hips continue their gentle press against yours, his movements a delicious tease that borders on the edge of pleasure and frustration as he heightens the friction upon your reactive clit. Your body trembles beneath him with every touch, “Please ‘toru,” you whimper, “I’ve been wanting you inside me. Please, please fuck me.”

A low growl of approval escapes his lips at the sound of your begging – he pauses his movements, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks down at you, his arms caging both sides of your head now, trapping you beneath him as he stares down at you with lascivious hunger.

"Mmm, my sweet girl," he purrs, his tone laced with a mixture of affection and lust. “You begging me like that, it's driving me crazy. How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

He moves closer, body pressing insistently against yours as he pushes your knees up to your chest. “I’ll give you exactly what you want, princess,” his voice dropping to a silky whisper. You arch your back as he finally sinks into you, thrusting his length into your cunt without any hesitance – parting your pretty folds as the warmth of him is welcomed against your plush wet walls.

The heat of his shaft is hot and his girth is eruptive, causing your breath to catch in your throat. You watch him shudder as he slides into you – a low rumble of satisfaction escaping his throat as your walls clamp down on his thick length. “Fuuck,” the words rolling off his tongue in a low growl, “you are so tight. God, you feel so good.”

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he completely bottoms out inside of you. The heat of your combined passion melding together as you fully become one with him – his member pressing hard against your cervix.

“Nngh ‘toru… it’s big. Feel like I’m going to tear apart,” your body trembles beneath him and your gasps and moans are like a symphony of pleasure, fueling his own primal need. Your hands tangle in his hair, fingers brushing against his undercut and grasping for his ivory locks.

His head dips down, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he relishes in the feeling of you wrapped around him. “I know baby, I know,” he breathes, his voice hot and damp against your skin, “But don’t worry you’re doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks, the deep timbre of his voice and the hunger in his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you – his words a mix of praise and desperation.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his hair falling over his forehead, framing his face in a wild untamed way while his gaze is filled with a fierce desire. "Gonna start moving now, sweetheart," he grumbles huskily, both a reassurance and a command. "You ready for me?"

Your eyes roll back as you feel his movements begin, slow and deliberate. His hands slide down your body, caressing your curves and gripping your hips, pulling you even closer against him. Breathy moans escape your lips as each thrust inside you has his cock kissing your cervix with insistent and measured pressure, causing you to arch your back even more against him.

Your pitch rises as your gasps fill the air, causing his own desire to surge with each needy sound echoing off the walls of your room. His hips grind in a steady, relentless rhythm as he rocks against you, his chest vibrating with a deep rumble of approval as he presses you into the mattress – clenching your hips tightly while his body envelops you. He takes deep trembling breaths as he relishes in the sounds of you writhing under him. Every shift of his body brings a new wave of pleasure to crash over you.

His eyes remain fixated on your face with each thrust, studying every expression and reaction. The heat from his skin sears against yours, each point of contact igniting a fresh wave of electricity through your body. He hungrily drinks in the sight of you, flushed and needy, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "God, you're so – ha – beautiful like this," he groans, his voice low and strangled. "So perfect."

He quickens the pace, his breath becoming strained as he increases the friction between your bodies, his own moans growing louder and more frenzied with each thrust as he feels his own desire driving him wild – his cock getter harder as he feels your pussy milk him, an overwhelming pressure building within him.

“Fuuuuck baby, fuck,” he manages to rasp out as his hands move to your chest, cupping your breasts as he begins to caress and kneed them, rubbing soft circles around your nipples, twisting and rolling them with his fingers. His own breath comes in short gasps as your hot wet walls consume his cock, squelching sounds filling the air with each thrust. He feels a desperate need boiling inside him – the need to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Every time he feels you tighten around him, he struggles more and more to hold back the overwhelming pleasure coiled within him. His strokes begin to become erratic, less controlled and more urgent. The slaps of your colliding bodies fill the air, along with your sweet whimpers and moans. A low growl escapes his lips as he captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head against the bed. He leans in closer, his body hovering over you, his eyes locking with yours in a heated stare.

“S-Satoru…” you mewl.

“You like that?” he groans, biting gently onto your shoulder while grinding into you harder. “Fuuuck, I can feel you squeezing my dick...”

His increased pace creates a delicious friction that steals the breath from your lungs. You feel his cock rub against your clit with every thrust into you, the vibrations causing a shiver of pleasure to ripple through your body, relishing in the feeling of being completely full of him.

“Don’t stop… nngh, yesyesyes SatoruI’m so close.”

He grits his teeth as you continue to squeeze around him, your pussy milking him like an expert. With a low growl, he clutches your hips tighter and increases his pace even more, his hips moving with a primal rhythm that matches the beat of your hearts. His eyes flare with determination at your words, responding instantly to your pleas.

“Shit, your cunt is gonna be the death of me...” he groans loudly, feeling his orgasm building quickly within him. “Let go for me,” he growls, reaching down to tease your clit with his thumb. “Cum all over my cock baby...”

The sensation of his thumb on your clit brings you over the edge as you writhe in ecstasy. Your hands grip Satoru's back as your nails dig into his skin, carving down on his flesh as your plush walls clamp onto his cock - screaming his name as your essence coats his shaft with pleasure.

"Nnhh, oh fu-u-ck," he grits out, his voice choked and rough, his body shaking with pleasure from the sight of you, coming undone beneath him – the feeling of you covering his cock with your release, it’s enough to push Satoru over the edge.

With a strangled moan of pleasure, Satoru gives into the sensations overwhelming him – spilling his load deep inside you, plunging you with his hot sticky seed as ropes of white cum paint your insides. His cock pulses against your walls and he grunts as he rides out his orgasm, pumping his load until there was nothing left.

He looks down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness, his body heavy and spent as he tries to regain control of himself. He quivers with pleasure as he pulls out his sensitive limp cock, his thick white cum oozing out of you, dripping down your thighs.

"God, princess," he gasps, his voice thick with exhaustion. "You drive me wild." He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving against your own, his heartbeat rapid and erratic as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

Your panting breaths mingle together as you gently brush your fingers through Satoru’s hair, tenderly massaging his scalp while you hold him close. “Hmm,” a satisfied hum escapes you. “Guess I am your weakness.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm, murmuring against your skin. "You figured it out.” Melting into your touch, Satoru holds you close and nestles himself further – embracing you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, inhaling the scent of your skin. “You definitely are, always have been."

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies – but you can’t help but let your mind race a bit. Thoughts of Suguru tug at the corners of your mind. You haven’t mentioned him to Satoru since that night, when you told him about the crimes he committed. You had a strong desire to catch up to Satoru, you don’t want to be his weakness, his downfall. You want to stand beside him as an equal – you want him to come to rely on you just as you rely on him.

“Hey ‘toru…” you speak softly and seriously as you continue to run soothing circles on his scalp. “Whatever happens next… you don’t have to do it alone.”

His eyes flutter open as he feels the shift in your demeanor, the change in the air. He can sense the seriousness in your tone and the concern in your touch. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his own gaze softening slightly at the worry he sees reflecting back at him. For a moment, he is silent, contemplating your words and the weight behind them.

Finally, he lets out a sigh and nods, his expression growing more pensive. "I know I don't have to," he says. "But it's not about me. It's about everyone else, about doing everything I can to protect them… to protect you."

A wry solemn smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Typical Satoru, putting himself last. There was no sense in arguing with him right now. Instead, you were going to work ever harder – to push yourself to catch up with him. One day you’d make him rely on you, and then you’d both face Suguru together. Shaking your head slightly as a sigh escapes your lips, you bring your hand to Satoru’s cheek as you softly caress his face. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He grins at your words, the corner of his lipa curling up in amusement. "Yep, that's me," he replies, his tone lighthearted. "Hopeless and in need of saving." He nuzzles his face into your hand, relishing the feeling of your touch on his skin. With a turn of his head, he presses a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before speaking again, "But trust me, princess, I appreciate it. More than you know."

With a fond grin, you let out a sigh and rest your forehead against his own. "Love you, you big dummy."

Satoru rolls his eyes playfully, but his expression softens at your words. Leaning in slightly, he brushes his nose against your own, "Love you too, you stubborn pain in the ass," he teases, and then he captures your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss – his hand coming up to rest on the side of your face. You let out a hum of contentment, savoring the tender feeling of his lips on yours.

When he pulls away, you let out a small whine of disappointment, only to be greeted with his smirk and the sound of his teasing words. “We should get you cleaned up. I guess you can finally have that bath you’ve been wanting.”

Your eyes light up at the thought, the promise of hot water and steam calling you. A soft huff of laughter escapes your lips and your eyes sparkle with amusement. "About time you remembered," you reply, with mock exasperation. "I was starting to think you were going to make me wait forever.”

"Yeah, yeah" he glints, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "But you know… honestly a bath sounds nice. I could also use a good wash. Especially after all the work you just put me through."

You raise your eyebrow as you can see a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and you snort playfully at his suggestion. "You're just looking for an excuse to soak with me."

Satoru leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours – his breath dances upon your face while he hums at you mischievously with a lazy smirk. "Why, you up for a little more fun in the tub?"

He still had more in him? Biting your lip, you look away from him for a moment as you pretend to think before responding, your tone playful and sultry. "Oh, I dunno, I think I’m pretty tired after all that exertion you made me do."

Satoru’s grin mischievously widens, “I can help you relax, common just let me join you,” he pleas childishly with a slight pout as he nuzzles closer to you with puppy dog eyes.

Your roll your eyes but they quickly betray you as they flicker down to his lips, tantalizingly close to your own. "It depends," you tease, your voice low and alluring. "Can you behave yourself in there?”

His eyes rove over your body, taking in each curve and contour as an unwavering smile spreads across his face. "Behave myself? That's a pretty big ask, princess. But for you, I'll try my best." He leans in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he speaks. "But no guarantees," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

∘₊✧

"Fuck baby," he grunts through clenched teeth, "That's it... Just like that..." He pushes his member into your mouth, eyes half lidded in pleasure.

It is clear that Satoru had no intention of cleaning up. The sounds of his moans echo off the tile of the bathroom, steam enveloping your bodies as it creates a veil of warmth around you. Satoru’s groans heighten as you wrap your lips around him, taking him in deeper and deeper with each bob of your head. Your tongue swirls expertly around the sensitive underside of his shaft while your fingers trace teasing patterns along his balls. Muffled sounds escape your lips as he thrusts gently into your warm mouth.

Satoru’s hands cradle the sides of your head as he pulls you closer – his hips bucking forward. “Mmm.. that’s it…,” he hisses as he watches your lips stretch around his length. His fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you steady, thrusting himself deeper into you.

The sounds of the bath water rippling underneath you with each thrust, the grunts of Satoru’s pleasure and your muffled moans fill the air. His fingers tighten their grip on your hair, guiding your movements. Suddenly, he pulls back just enough, teasing the head of his cock across your plump lips, giving you a moment to breathe as you pant on his aching arousal.

“You’re so cute taking all of me like this. Fuck, your mouth feels better than I imagined. Been wanting to do this for a long time,” he murmurs breathily while his hand reaches down to gently stroke your cheekbone before lifting your chin up to look at him. He rakes in every inch of you with a mixture of pleasure and adoration – drinking in the sight of you, lips plump and pink while slightly parted.

“I’ve been wanting you too ‘toru..” you hum in pleasure, a tingling ache pooling between your thighs as you’re satisfied in how desperate he looks for you – you flick your tongue out and swirl it around the slit on his weeping tip, savoring in the taste of his precum as his head rolls back slightly from the sensation.

Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sensational gasp of pleasure from your tongue, dancing tantalizingly over the sensitive head of his cock. A shiver racks through his body down to his spine and a rumble of satisfaction vibrates in his chest. The sound he makes sends a thrill throughout your body – you smile around him, your tongue swirling in a way that drives him wild.

“You're too good at this...” he grunts out between ragged breaths. “Getting too close, I need to cum inside of you,” he rasps and suddenly pulls away, grabbing you as he spins you around. He pushes you forward onto the side of the tub and lines himself up with your soaking entrance.

You whine and welcome him eagerly as you rub his member between your slick folds, bent over and craving him as you coat his tip with your sweet essence. “Nnnm, need you inside me, please ‘toru.”

He grins down at you with a sly smirk plastered on his lips. “So needy, what happened to being too tired princess?” and with a swift motion he plunges his cock deep into your wet pussy once again, causing a sharp gasp to escape your throat that slowly turns into a needy moan. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he grips your hips tightly.

Leaning himself over your back, Satoru’s hand snakes around your waist and cups one of your breasts firmly, kneading it as he presses kisses along your neck. His warm breath plays upon your ear as he begins to move. “Good girl, taking me whole,” he purrs, “gonna fill you up again.”

Feeling the warmth of your slick walls enveloping him sends a wave of pleasure coursing through his body – he begins moving rhythmically, each thrust met by a symphony of soft gasps and lewd squelches echoing throughout the bathroom.

"Nnngh, – you feel – ha – so good ‘toru " you gasp, your voice coming out in short, breathless sighs, each one a testament to the pleasure coursing through you. Satoru revels in making such erotic sounds escape your lips, it fuels a primal passion within him and drives him even more over the edge.

Groaning in pure pleasure, Satoru wastes no time picking up his pace – each forceful thrust making your body bounce enticingly on the waterline of the bathtub, sending waves of satisfying splashes to cascade against the sides of the tub.

His hand on your breast searches for your nipples, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You can feel the intensity building within you, the pleasure mounting with each passing moment – arching your back from each satisfying sensation, you push yourself deeper against his shaft and moan. “Yesyesyes, I’m so close ‘toru.”

He can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, signaling your impending climax. With a smirk, Satoru increases his pace even further, driving himself deeper into your quivering depths. His other hand slips down to tease your clit, rubbing small circles around it while he continues to pound deeper into your dripping cunt with each stroke. “That's it... let go, princess,” he murmurs into your ear before biting down gently on the lobe.

You gasp as his throbbing member hits deep against your cervix, and the combined stimulation of your sensitive bud sends you over the edge to ecstasy – your body a live wire of pleasure. You cry out Satoru’s name loudly, a mantra of pleasure and surrender, fingers digging into the edge of the tub, gasping and shuddering through your orgasm as your clamp your walls down on him, coating his cock with your sweet messy release.

Savoring each ripple of your inner muscles gripping onto Satoru’s aching length with such delicious fervor, he feels you milking every last drop out of him until he finally surrenders to his own building orgasm. His strokes become erratic as he chases his climax, driven wild by the sight and sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls, adding fuel to his own burning desires.

“Fuuuck – ha – ‘m gonna cum.” His balls tighten as he releases his hot seed deep into your quivering cunt, spurting forth in hot streams, filling you up until you’re dripping with your combined pleasure. Holding onto your hips tightly, he rides out every last pulse of pleasure until finally collapsing.

You fall against the side of the tub, both panting and trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breaths fills the room, the only other sound being the soft slosh of the water around you. He holds you tightly, his body draped over yours while he trails gentle kisses upon your skin, his hot breath dancing on your neck with each shaky exhale. He buries his face in your hair as he attempts to catch his breath. "God, you're... amazing," he mutters.

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your voice raspy and spent. "Hmm~ you're not so bad yourself," a tired smile playing at the corners of your lips as you feel the exhaustion and blissfulness settling in your bones. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against yours.     

He lets out a soft chuckle, his own breath still coming out in short, ragged gasps. "Not bad? I'll have to try harder next time," he teases, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. As he adjusts your position slightly, his arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer against him like a protective cocoon as you sit back in the tub.

His skin is hot and slick against your own and his heart beats softly against your back – a steady reassuring rhythm in the stillness. He leans in closer, his lips finding the spot just below your ear, "God, I can't get enough of you," he murmurs.

Feeling yourself melt into his arms, your body relaxes against his in a comfortable heap. You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his embrace. “Good," you murmur back, your voice drowsy with contentment. “No more pulling that shit where you leave me high and dry, okay?”

He chuckles lightly at your response, his chest vibrating against your back as he laughs. "No more leaving you high and dry, I promise," he reassures you, his tone serious. Planting a kiss on your shoulder, he runs his thumb gently over your hip, his touch soothing and comforting as he mutters. "Never gonna leave you hanging like that again. I swear."

∘₊✧

As the warm sun peers through the blinds of your windowsill, you grumble as you sleepily rub your eyes. "Satoru?" you mutter and reach out, searching for his warmth, but all you feel is the cold, empty sheets beside you where he used to be. Your eyes flutter open, and you squint against the glare of the sunlight streaming in. “Satoru?” you mutter again, your voice still thick with sleep. You frown suddenly deepens as you realize that he's not here. The silence is deafening. There is no way, right? He wouldn’t do this again?

You spring out from your bed and briskly walk down the hallway, unable to hide the desperation in your voice and the tears that begin to slowly well up in your eyes as you call him again “Satoru?” Your stride freezes as you hear the clattering on pots and pans coming from the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafting in the air.

Relief washes over you, followed by a surge of slight irritation. How dare he leave you in bed alone again, worried about where he disappeared to. You walk briskly to the kitchen and see Satoru standing at the stove – the early morning light casting a warm glow on his disheveled hair. He is dressed in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants, cooking breakfast as if nothing happened, looking all too domestic with a spatula in one hand and a mug in the other. How does he always manage to look so damn attractive while aggravating the hell out of you at the same time?

He turns slightly at the sound of your footsteps, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he chirps, as if he wasn’t just mysteriously absent moments ago – his casualness only fueling your annoyance.

“Satoru Gojo, I swear to God,” your voice is tinged with frustration and relief as you grab the throw pillow from the couch and hurl it at him – only for it to hit an invisible barrier and fall to the ground, Satoru stopping it with his infinity, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Hey, hey, now. No need to throw things at me. I was just making you some breakfast." He holds up the spatula in one hand and the coffee mug in the other, looking entirely too innocent.

✧ahhh, something about satoru being a big clueless idiot but meaning well :') hope ya'll enjoyed this! thanks for reading ♡

taglist: @haychhans @mysticnozel @luvrsbian @xxxxwhatsername @imonhereforareasonsadly @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryistheg @skyahri @genshingeeksworld @seilahtitania32 @strychnynegirl

[writingforstraykids]

THIS CHAN?? I WENT FERAL???!????

anyways 🤭 imagine you taking chan and him forcing you to look into the mirror behind the bed as he absolutely destroys your sweet little cunt😼

Ohh believe me, that pic made my thoughts run wild already so thank you!! Your request hasn't left my mind all morning so yeah...this happened real quick😂🖤

Right here with you, always

Pairing: Chan x femReader

Word Count: 1915

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: Hope you like it, love🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

male!version here

The cobblestone streets of Milan seemed to sparkle under the golden hues of the early evening sun as you and Chan made your way through the city. Milan was pulsing with life, its vibrant energy matching the excitement in your heart. Chan had invited you to join him on this glamorous outing, blending the worlds of high fashion and intimate togetherness.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, admiration blooming inside you. He was dressed in a blue shirt that highlighted the warmth of his eyes and complemented his dark hair. Chan suggested dinner at a small, elegant restaurant known for its secluded ambiance and exquisite Italian cuisine. Over plates of creamy risotto and perfectly aged wine, you shared stories and dreams, his laughter blending harmoniously with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere in the background.

As the sky deepened into a velvety blue, Chan took your hand, leading you out into the enchanting night. Milan at night was a different kind of beautiful; the lights of the city reflected in the gentle ripple of the canals, the air filled with the subtle aroma of blooming jasmine. Walking through this cityscape with Chan, you felt as if you were part of a living canvas, every step painting a stroke of memories in your shared story.

Eventually, the night led you to his hotel, a place of refined elegance. Inside, the world quieted down to just the two of you. Chan guided you to the sofa in his suite, a soft, inviting piece that seemed to echo the plush luxury of your surroundings. As you settled into the comfort of the sofa, he pulled you gently into his lap, a smile playing on his lips.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, feeling the strength that lay beneath his soft shirt. “This blue shirt… it’s perfect on you. It makes your eyes look like chocolate; deep and endlessly sweet.”

At first, Chan blushed, a shy smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered away. It wasn't often that he heard such open adoration, even from you, his partner. Yet, the honesty in your voice and the warmth in your eyes encouraged him to accept your compliments. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his own confidence growing with the realization of how much you needed him in this moment.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. His hands were gentle but firm on your back, making every nerve in your body sing with a pleasant tension. The room around you seemed to fade, the sounds of Milan's nightlife a distant echo to the intimacy that unfolded between the two of you. “Love how pretty you look in that dress,” he told you, hands fondling up your thighs and below the skirt. “Love how your body always searches mine,” he confessed, biting back a soft groan as you pressed down against him.

His lips met yours in a fierce kiss, hand shooting up into your hair. You kissed back eagerly, grinding down against him with soft, needy sounds. Chan's grip on your hair tightens, his hips chasing yours with a low groan.

As the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the gentle yet insistent passion between you, the world outside seemed to vanish completely. Chan’s hands moved with a tenderness that contrasted and complemented the growing intensity of the moment. He was skilled, knowing exactly how to make you feel cherished and desired all at once.

Your panties met the floor as Chan lifted his hips, shuffling his pants down enough to free his aching dick. He made quick work of preparing you, stretching you out with his fingers and kissing down your neck hungrily. You sunk down on him soon, moaning out loudly as he stretched your fluttering walls just right.

Chan's hands found your hips, steadying you in his lap as he started thrusting into you. “Fuck,” he whispered needily. “You feel so good, baby girl,” he told you, setting a fast pace.

You matched his rhythm, your movements fueled by the shared desire that connected you. The heat of the moment intensified, your bodies moving in sync as you rode him, each thrust deepening the bond between you. Chan’s eyes were locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making you feel both powerful and utterly vulnerable at the same time.

“Chan, please,” you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with raw emotion. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice a mix of passion and reassurance. His grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts growing more urgent. “I’m right here with you, always, pretty girl.” You hid your face in his shoulder, embarrassed of the weak sounds he pulled from you with each thrust. Chan's hand sunk into your hair, pulling you back up. “I want you to look at yourself,” he said, nodding at the mirror wall right behind him. “Want you to see how pretty you are like this.”

“Channie,” you whined softly but did as he told you. “Fuck,” you whimpered as his pace fastened, making you bounce on him.

His grip on your hips was firm as he guided you up and down, his thrusts growing more insistent with each passing second. The sight of yourself in the mirror, bouncing on his lap, your dress hitched up around your waist, your face flushed with pleasure, was almost too much to bear. The raw intensity of the moment made you feel exposed yet profoundly connected to Chan.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his voice a low, guttural whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Do you see how perfect you are for me? Only for me?"

The combination of his words and the image in the mirror heightened your senses, your body responding to him with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode him harder, the rhythm of your movements becoming frantic.

"Yes, Chan," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat. "I'm yours."

Chan's eyes never left your face, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and raw desire. "Good girl," he praised, his hands guiding your movements with a steady, unrelenting pace. "I want you to feel everything, baby girl. I want you to feel how much I need you."

His words pushed you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the intensity of your impending climax. "Chan, I'm so close," you moaned, your head falling back as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Chan growled softly, reaching down between your bodies and playing with your clit. The touch sent shivers up your spine, making you arch into him with a loud, whimpery moan. “Such a good girl,” he moaned, thrusting into you harshly, feeling his own climax creeping up on him.

“Please, Chan~,” you almost sobbed, a little overwhelmed by all the pleasure coursing through your body. “Need to - please.”

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with emotion. "Let go, pretty girl. I've got you."

With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your release washing over you in waves of pure ecstasy. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, mingling with Chan's own groans as he followed you over the edge, his body tensing beneath you as he found his release.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless and spent, your bodies trembling from the intensity of the experience. Chan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

"You did so well," he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your hair. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a deep sense of contentment and love. "Thank you, Chan," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

He smiled, his eyes softening with affection. "Always, baby girl. Always."

The world outside the hotel room was a distant memory, the night in Milan a backdrop to the profound connection you shared with Chan. As you lay in his arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always bring you back to each other.

-

Later, after you had both cleaned up and settled into the luxurious bed, the quiet intimacy continued to envelop you. Chan's gentle touches and soft murmurs of affection filled the space between you, making even the simplest moments feel special.

"Do you remember our first trip together?" Chan asked, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness.

You smiled, recalling the memory fondly. "Of course I do. How could I forget? It was magical."

"It was," he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "But this... tonight... it's even better."

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're here together," he replied simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because every moment with you is better than the last."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you leaned in to kiss him softly. "I feel the same way," you whispered against his lips. "Every moment with you is a gift."

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that no matter what challenges or adventures lay ahead, you and Chan would face them together, your love growing stronger with each passing day.

-

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke up to the feeling of Chan’s fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, his touch a comforting presence.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face him. His eyes were warm and filled with love, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Chan leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. “How did you sleep?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Perfectly,” you said, your heart swelling with happiness. “How about you?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted, his smile widening. “Being with you always makes everything better.”

You snuggled closer to him, savoring the peaceful morning. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As the morning progressed, you both took your time getting ready, enjoying the relaxed pace of the day. The streets of Milan called to you, promising new adventures and memories to be made. But no matter what the day held, you knew that the connection you shared with Chan would remain the most beautiful part of your journey together.

-

Walking through the bustling streets of Milan once more, hand in hand with Chan, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and happiness you had found. The city seemed to sparkle with the promise of new experiences, each moment adding to the rich tapestry of your shared life.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the same joy that filled your heart. “Ready for another day of adventures?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely,” you replied, smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, you both stepped forward, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that together, you could conquer the world.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @slutforchanlix

[elexaria]

price is a good influence on the boys, always keeping them in line. its almost like theyre his boys, he doesn’t pass up the opportunity to talk about them with a proud growl in his voice. they dont know this, but he even has a tattered photo of the four of them in his wallet. he’s never settled down, never had kids, so even if theyre only around a decade younger than him, they’re like his own.

well, he’s almost always a good influence on the boys.

the new bit around the military campus, she’s a sight for sore eyes. the capt can’t help but clear his throat, one arm around her shoulder so casually. he’s a charmer, that’s for sure. “don’t let ‘em paw at you, yeah? you tell ‘ol pricey if these dogs bark at you, love, and i’ll let ‘em know who holds the reigns here.” he purrs in her ear, the rough timbre of his voice is enough to make anyone’s blood run hot.

the boys know better than to try and cuckhold price, after all, he’s kind enough to let them watch him as he flirts with the lil honey on base. their eyes watch keenly as he squeezes her arse as she passes by, a smug grin on his lips as she turns around with a playful gasp. he’ll turn his head, nodding with a grunt at the boys. “y’see that, lads? like putty in my hands, she is.” he remarks, and the boys guffaw like a group of schoolboys at how cool he is.

it gets even better when, after a year of casual dating, his lil lady agrees to let the boys in behind closed doors. “just let ‘em watch, yeah? poor boys dont get much action, it’s for morale i ‘spose. keeps ‘em fit and fired up.” he murmurs lowly in her ear, quiet enough only for her to hear. their dance is as old as time, his large hands dancing around her soft skin. her moans are like a siren’s call to the boys, it gets the hairs at the nape of their necks standing. hell, that’s not the only thing that stands to attention when price parts the glistening folds of her cunt, chuckling as he steps back to nod his head at the boys. “stunning, ‘ent she?” he growls out, a smug grin on his face as he leans on his side, dipping two fingers inside of her slowly while his thumb toys with her clit.

my god, you can HEAR the boy’s heavy breathing as they watch price toy with his girl, and johnny’s the first one to break the awkwardness by rubbing his erection through his jeans discreetly. price notices, and raises his eyebrows. “lads, the missus doesn’t mind if you rub one out. do you, sweetheart?” he coos as he crooks his fingers up inside of her, jamming the pads of his fingers up into the spongy spot where she likes it. she gasps, nodding as she looks over at how quickly the lads begin to unbuckle their belts, their cocks quickly springing up out of their confines. a symphony of grunts that harmoniously blend together with her gasps and mewls, and all are at the mercy of price. he continues to toy with her, to prolong her pleasure until, and it doesn’t take long, until the boys cum right then and there— thick ropes of cum spurting into their fists.

with a chuckle, price rises to sit on the bed, his hand now gently rubbing against her folds in a teasing manner. “right, bugger off you bunch of reprobates. give us some privacy, yeah?” he chuckles, motioning towards the door as they’re all quick to tuck their spent cocks in the waistbands of their boxers, quickly scampering off at the call of their captain.

the next morning, they’ll all sit round a small table, making comments about how good price is, how lucky they are to have seen that performance. “he deffo would let us shag her if we asked, ye ken.” johnny says quietly, leaning in close to the lads in a conspiratorial manner.

“johnny, stop thinking with your dick.” simon gruffly replies, shaking his head as to dismiss the silly notion.

“yeah, no way would he let us.” gaz agrees, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as he leans back in his seat. “she was fit, though.” he chuckles, rubbing his face as they all begin to impishly laugh at the memory.

[rainylana]

“I love you.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a night of bad dreams leads the both of you into the each other’s arms for comfort.

warnings: smut, angst to the max, mentions of blood and guts.

“Baby, please, wake up! Y/n, y/n! Oh, God, please, God, no! Wake up! Wake up! Don’t you dare leave me!” He couldn’t move. He was sure he was paralyzed. Your eyes were closed. Were you dead? He couldn’t get up to see. Covered in blood and guts, he laid their, screaming for you, crying.

The bats would be back again soon. He’d have to play dead, but he wondered if he would be dead by the time they got back. He flexed out his fingers as hard as he could, trying to reach you. You had blood seeping from your head. “Y/n, please! Please wake up, baby! Oh, God, help! Help us, please!” He continued screaming. A scream you didn’t hear unless you were watching a scary movie, the blood curdling kind, until Steve, Nancy and Robin found you both.

Eddie was awake. Again. He wondered if you were, but your back was to him and your breathing seemed to be steady. You were asleep. Good. You needed it. His head was propped up with a pillow, his body halfway sitting up. The window was open, a steady draft of wind that was cool against his bare chest. The moon shone a precious gleam that made him look angelic, highlighting the muscles of his torso. The sheet laid rested on his legs, though lay tangled with yours.

Another round of nightmares and deep thoughts, another night of thinking he’d lost you. It had been almost two months, but it hadn’t seemed to have gotten any easier. Eddie thought you had died that night. He’d eventually passed out from the blood loss, and when he’d woken up in the hospital, you were his first thought. When he found out you were alive, critical, but alive, he’d sobbed, completely broke down and thanked God.

Nobody was there. No nurse, no doctor, no Eddie. You were screaming, hand on your stomach, twirling around the hospital floor at three in the morning, demanding to know where he was. Was he dead? Was he alive? You could barely remember what happened. The bats. Oh, god, the bats!

Wayne had found you first, and when you found out he was alive, critical, but alive, you fell to your knees and threw up. You had looked up, face covered in vomit and tears, and thanked God. The nurses had demanded you get back into bed, hooked you back up to your iv and oxygen. It was a miracle you were alive.

Your eyes were glued to the window, staring at the light of the moon, a pale, silvery color that reminded you of your mom’s set of pearls she’d given you. The wind was cold on your face, but it soothed the burn in your chest. Another night, another nightmare. The burn of the memory that you couldn’t forget. You wondered if you ever would. You could tell Eddie was asleep. His breathing was even.

Your relationship had taken it’s toll that night, but it brought you closer together. He thought you’d died. You thought he had died. It created something so grave, so treacherous inside you that only the other could understand.

A tear slipped down your face. You needed to see him. With a shuffle of the blanket, you rolled over and turned your neck to look at him, only to find he was already looking at you with his own teary eyes. He knew what you were thinking. You knew what he was thinking.

You both stared at each other before you climbed over his lap slowly, caressing his face as you did so. You kissed him deeply, your hair falling over his own curls. Your tears blended with his, your bodies hoping to feel anything but pain for one night.

He took off your shirt, leaving you naked before him, and took your nipple in his mouth. He took his time, caressing each and every part of your chest. You sighed in content, thinking. God, where would you be now if you had lost him? You couldn’t bare the thought. He moved up to your neck, his hand cupping the heat of your sex, finding you wet and ready, aching for him to take you.

You pulled at his hair and brought his mouth back up to yours, kissing him desperately and needfully, pouring all your thoughts and feelings into him. He did the same to you, gripping and pulling at you. It was passionate, full of love and sorrow.

He pulled out his cock beneath you, hard and ready and slipped it inside your cunt with ease. You both kept your eyes locked together as you slowly slide up and down his length. He held your hips, guiding you. You couldn’t help it, but you let out another tear, a fat one that rolled down your face so quick he almost missed it.

“I love you.” You cried, rocking yourself against him, the friction building a satisfying pull in your abdomen.

He caught your cry with his mouth, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you flush together, helping you move quicker, faster. He kissed back the words I love you.

The pressure built up in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter, his cock full and prominent up inside of you. He groaned underneath you, pressing his face to bury himself between your breasts. “I love you.” He husked, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. “God, I- love you.”

You were gushing all over his cock within seconds, and he was following quickly after you as he came undone. You collapsed and laid atop of him, feeling blissful, free of thought and torment. He was still inside you, wrapping an arm around your back, he kissed your forehead until you eventually fell back asleep. “I love you.”

[watevermelon]

A Beautiful Cage | Sunday x Reader

✧ Summary: You woke up in this beautiful dream, memories lost with a handsome man claiming to be your husband.

➳ Spoilers for the 2.2 Penacony update! ➳ Warnings: Dark!Sunday x Amnesiac Reader; Yandere writing liberties :) ➳ Navigation

“My beautiful Sparrow, welcome back.”

You stared at the man, blinking twice without words as his affection for you shined like the halo upon his head. The grip he had on your hand fell with each beat of your prolonged silence, a new sort of desperation growing at the corners of his lips. Your heart broke at the sight, despite not even knowing his name.

“I’m sorry. Do I… know you?” You asked back, sitting up in the bed and only now noticing your surroundings.

The sterile smell and beeping monitors confirmed the worst. Beside you sat someone whom you felt an inexplicable connection to, a pull in your heart that stirred up warning bells, yet their face brought no specific memories.

Everything about him exuded importance, from the fine fabric and intricate details of his clothes to the matching halo and ethereal wings. He almost looked like an angel, a being of celestial grace and authority.

The man in question grimaced, but continued. “My name is Sunday. Do you remember my face?”

Sunday, like the last day of the week.

The day of rest.

“I’m sorry, no.” Your forehead creased in strain, as if the physical action could bring it all back. A worse revelation crossed your mind, “I don’t even remember my own name.”

“Then I will help you remember, my dear Sparrow.” He spoke gently, repeating the term of endearment as he lifted your hand to his lips. A silent warning bell in your subconscious screamed at you to pull away, but you ignored it to instead stare into his handsome, golden eyes.

“Please, stop me if this becomes overwhelming for you.” Sunday warned before explaining further, “You are my wife. And because of my position in this world, you are often put in danger. And unfortunately, I was not able to protect you from an attack.”

You stayed silent as Sunday continued on, describing in small detail the life you shared together. 

Your name and the world you chose to stay in, Penacony.

A dreamlike world where many partied their days away, celebrities and the affluent from around the universe sharing in one lavish adventure.

And Sunday, the head of the Oak family.

You could hardly believe his words, a world where people were able to freely pursue their dreams. 

The hesitation must have been seen on your face, since the kind stranger had countered with a simple phrase. “Let me show you.”

Gold lined the streets as far as the eye could see, casting a radiant glow across the entire cityscape. Fantastical roads floated in the sky above, while buildings were illuminated in a dazzling golden radiance.

Golden Hour, the name for the area, was aptly so. 

You stared dumbly in different directions, taking in the fantastical view and the lively bustle of people moving from store to store. Street performers graced nearly every corner, their music blending into a harmonious soundtrack that filled the vibrant, diverse heart of the city.

Sunday lifted an open palm towards you, the corners of his lips curling into a soft smile as if inviting your touch. As you placed your hand over his, you felt the gentle pressure of his grip matching your own tenderness. His hand felt cold and unfamiliar, but you brushed aside the discomfort, chalking it up to your amnesia.

“It’s Mr. Sunday!” A child yelled in excitement, jumping up and down as his company of other children turned at his words.

Suddenly there was a crowd of children, all surrounding your supposed husband and asking for his autograph. A weight on your heart felt lighter, seeing strangers confirm the words of the one person who was influencing your entire outlook on your new life. 

Sunday was essentially a stranger, but now the only person you could rely on.

You needed truths and as the crowd grew larger, you could confirm that this man was honest in his words earlier.

“Are you alright, Miss?” One of the children turned and asked you.

Another joined in on the conversation, “Mr. Sunday said you were hurt! Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you for asking.” You kept your response kind, but short.

Sunday weaved his way through the short crowd, back to your side. "Please excuse us as we must depart promptly. My sincere apologies, but my dear wife has endured considerable challenges."

“Awww, he loves you!” A squeal broke out from the back, making you unconsciously blush.

Sunday simply smiled, before waving goodbye and leading you on your way.

Sunday resided in a grand estate, passing libraries adorning the walls as he guided you to your shared bedroom. You admired the opulent furniture, once again accented with gold. As Sunday removed his outer layers, you seized the opportunity to survey the room. Framed pictures — your wedding, a festival, and one with a third person who looked much like Sunday —moments that, regrettably, eluded your recognition.

Your husband emerged from the other room silently, regarding you with that same small smile as he drew closer.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember.” You spoke first, genuinely frustrated that your memories were taken from you. “It’s alright.” He reassured you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Can I try something to help you?”

You nodded in quiet affirmation, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as Sunday leaned closer. His breath mingled with yours, warm and comforting, as he pressed a soft kiss against the tip of your nose before gently lowering his lips to meet yours. The kiss was tender, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, delicate and fleeting, as if both of you were hesitant to disrupt the tranquility of the moment.

But as the warmth of the embrace enveloped you, a surge of emotion ignited within, fueling the kiss with a newfound intensity. Your lips moved in perfect harmony, a dance of passion and longing, as Sunday's hand found its way to the back of your neck, his touch both gentle and possessive. With each brush of his lips against yours, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you locked in a timeless embrace.

But it was not enough.

“I love you, my Sparrow.” He murmured against your lips. “Whatever you come to need, I will provide it. Lest it be my time, my affection, or even if you perhaps… need space.”

A pang of bittersweet ache tugged at your heart as you processed those last words. It was undeniable how much Sunday loved you, his actions speaking volumes and allowing you the space and freedom if that was what you wanted. It was a sacrifice born out of love, a silent vow to stand by your side no matter the outcome, even as your heart yearned for the completeness that only the restoration of your memories could bring.

But a life without him… did not feel right?

“No, please. I want you by my side.” 

It was a small concession, but the radiant smile that blossomed across Sunday's face filled even you with an infectious joy. He leaned in, pressing a series of gentle kisses along the side of your cheek, each one eliciting a soft laugh from your lips as you savored the delightful sensation. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the warmth of his affection, all worries and uncertainties melted away, leaving behind only the sweet embrace of shared laughter and unspoken love.

You snuggled into his arms at night, the sensation unfamiliar but not unwelcome. As you closed your eyes and drifted into slumber, a relentless melody began to crescendo, growing louder and more insistent until it engulfed your consciousness, becoming the sole sound echoing through the corridors of your dreams.

A woman's voice, light and airy, infused with hope, danced through the recesses of your mind, casting a shimmering veil over your thoughts.

Who was that woman?

And why was she the only memory your mind could recall?

You devoured every book available on Penacony and its rich history, spending countless days ensconced within the walls of your private library. Sunday had even offered recommendations, guiding you towards enlightening reads detailing the intricate tapestry of the Oak family and the other prominent families that shaped the fabric of Penacony's past.

A dream, tantalizing in its promise, offering individuals the chance to manifest and fulfill their deepest desires, but with a caveat—access granted solely through the family's invitation.

But there was nothing of note regarding your situation.

Instead, you found yourself falling into rhythm into Sunday’s life.

You slotted into his life easily, either accompanying Sunday for work or even venturing out on your own. Some days, you would visit his office as he tirelessly worked and meticulously planned for the upcoming Charmony festival. Or, on easier days, strolled through the familiar streets of Penacony as he encouraged you to immerse yourself in the surroundings in hopes of triggering memories.

In each interaction, it was evident the deep love and devotion Sunday held for his people and his beloved city of Penacony. He listened attentively to even the most mundane complaints from others, offering genuine empathy and understanding. His concern and unwavering commitment to his people were palpable, leaving a heartwarming impression on all who encountered him.

It seemed like he was perfect in every way possible.

Life with Sunday was sweet, easy even.

And yet, there was an insistent hammering in your heart, a relentless pulse that sent waves of unease through your entire being.

Every night without fail, you continued to hear that insistent melody, a haunting refrain that seemed to echo from the depths of your past. You couldn't fathom why your mind clung to this particular fragment of memory and it nearly drove you to anger. You had lived an entire life, rich with experiences and emotions, yet it was a single song that your memory chose to preserve. Why not Sunday, or the life you had shared together? 

What was the importance of this song?

You found yourself unconsciously humming along to this song even as you traversed Penacony. It was another day with Sunday off attending to business, leaving you to your own devices. You appreciated his willingness to let you explore Penacony independently; it allowed you to experience the city's vibrancy through your own eyes, unfiltered by anyone’s perceptions and unburdened by expectations. The freedom to form your own impressions was a gift, even as the familiar tune haunted your every step.

How could you possibly be suspicious of your husband when he was giving you all this freedom?

Your eyes swept appreciatively across the cityscape until they paused in one direction. You halted immediately, a small tendril of suspicion blossoming into body-wide panic as you recognized the woman standing before you.

In your heart of hearts, you remembered her name.

Robin.

Instantly, an unrelenting pain seared through your brain, but you resisted the urge to duck down, clutching your head as you stared at the woman. She locked eyes with you, surprise flashing across her face before she began running in your direction.

“Robin?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but the woman wrapped her arms around your middle.

Her hug felt deeply familiar, like the comforting embrace of home after a long, perilous journey. It was as if her arms wrapped not just around your body, but around your weary soul, offering solace and a sense of belonging that you had desperately missed.

You continued. “Robin, I… Lost all my memories. You are the only person I’ve recognized so far.”

Robin's face contorted in pain, worry deepening with every word you spoke. She looked you over, inspecting every inch to ensure you were unhurt. Satisfied, she hugged you again tightly before gently patting your heart.

“Robin?” You asked again, but the woman only looked at you and tilted her head in question.

“Are you… unable to speak?”

Yes.

She nodded her head, making you take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. “Is it because of me?”

No.

“I… We should tell Sunday!” You attempted to look for a solution, but she frowned and kept nodding her head no. “Does he already know?

Yes.

“... Will you come back home with me? I don’t remember you fully, but in my heart it feels like I’ve missed you.”

She nodded eagerly, making you a bit more suspicious of her intentions.

You walked side-by-side, making your way back to your shared abode with Sunday, enveloped in a familiar atmosphere. In the absence of her voice, you took it upon yourself to fill the air with conversation, enough for the both of you. You recounted how you had awoken without a single memory, with Sunday faithfully by your side. You described his love and devotion, his unwavering care for your every need.

This felt familiar, being with Robin. However, why now? 

Why hadn’t she visited you before?

A part of your mind stuttered, hesitating to confide in Robin about the ominous feeling gnawing at your heart regarding everything that was happening. What if she took her brother's side? Perhaps it was wiser to keep silent, hesitant to disclose your apprehensions, especially considering the possibility that she might be collaborating with him.

You walked into the foyer with Robin and she led you further into the home, into a library with a large desk that had a model of all of Golden Hour.

It was evident that she was on a mission, striding purposefully forward without the slightest hint of hesitation as she surveyed the towering bookcases that lined the walls of the library. Sensing her focused energy, you allowed her to proceed in silence, observing her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Recognition flashed behind her eyes and she grabbed something resting on the shelf, a rectangular object, before quickly thrusting it at you.

“What do you want me to do with this?” You asked with confusion, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Silent yet urgent, she swiftly took charge and reached to open the flap of your jacket, deftly slipping the object into the pocket before pressing a single pointer finger against her lips, signaling for you to maintain absolute silence.

You shook your head in confusion, near begging for more information. “Silent from who?”

From Sunday?

Or from someone else in Penacony?

But a now familiar voice was heard at the door frame.

“My dear sister, I didn’t know you’d be visiting our home today. Not that I’m not grateful, but I would have stayed home to greet you upon your arrival.” Sunday greeted you both with his customary kind smile, a warm familiarity washing over you. He approached, embracing his sister first in a lingering hug before turning to your side, where he offered you a greeting kiss on the forehead.

“My offer to stay in this home still stands, dear sister.”

Their relationship appeared to be fine, even close. Perhaps Robin hadn’t intended to keep the matter silent from Sunday? However, as Robin bid you both goodbye and you found yourselves alone, you made the conscious decision to remain quiet about the object, keeping it tucked away in your pocket like a silent reminder.

The following day, you ventured out of the mansion and found yourself in a cafe. Uncertain about the object nestled in your pocket, you hesitated to even retrieve it, opting instead to keep your hand inside, fingers lightly brushing against its surface as you inspected it solely through touch.

Nothing about it seemed special, just a rectangular object shrouded in mystery.

Dumbfounded, you exited the cafe, pondering the possibility of researching the object. Was there a library somewhere in Penacony that might hold more information? A tendril of apprehension tightened in your heart as you recalled that the only library you had encountered thus far was the one within your own home.

“Ah, his little songbird.” A voice, unfamiliar, broke you out of your reverie.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked back genuinely.

“Perhaps in another lifetime.” The woman continued, looking you up and down with a smirk on her face.

She was beautiful, even enough to make you feel self conscious. The woman stood tall with porcelain skin contrasting the lavender hues that cascaded down her back. Her gaze nearly matched her hair, a captivating blend of colors with red striking you like the flames of a hypnotic fire.

“My name is Black Swan.” She stated simply, inspecting your eyes as if to see if there was any recognition behind them.

But instead, you blinked twice, uncertainty clouding your thoughts as you awaited her next words, unsure of where she was leading the conversation.

“That’s unfortunate.” She commented on your eyes, once vibrant when she last saw you. “But I believe you have a souvenir of mine.”

Your hand clenched around the rectangular object, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. The thought of broaching the subject with Sunday seemed fraught with risk. Why would you entertain the idea of confiding in a stranger?

“I know you don’t trust me. But would it help if I told you a fellow songbird and I gave it to you?”

Robin.

You paused, looking left and right before stepping closer. 

“Hold on.” She spoke softly, her words accompanied by a gentle hand on your wrist, guiding you away from the bustling streets of Golden Hour. Through winding paths and intricate puzzles, she led you, each twist and turn revealing new secrets and hidden passages.

“It isn’t safe here either, but at least now we’re away from the eyes of the bloodhounds.”

Huh?

Though you couldn’t quite comprehend it, with each passing moment in the company of this stranger, you found yourself inexplicably at ease. There was a sense of trust that seemed to grow between you, as if she were a steadfast ally in this labyrinthine journey. You held up the rectangular object in your palms, and she made no move to take it from your grasp, respecting your agency and the significance of the item to you.

She put her hand over the object, “This is an empty light cone. Light cones hold memories, moments in time that were long forgotten even by the user.”

Your eyes shot up in interest, but you did not interrupt her.

“Tell me, do you enjoy this dream?” She asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Be honest with me, songbird.”

You paused, given the first true opportunity to speak your mind. “I enjoy being here, but something doesn't feel complete.”

“Have you noticed something strange since you first awoke here?”

“Like what? 

“Remember. A major flaw in the story you have experienced.”

Your frustration grew, “I can only recall the last few weeks, I can’t go back any further.”

Black Swan fixed her gaze upon you, her eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity as she spoke. “Think back to what you know. Where did you start this story?”

“I was in a hospital, here in Penacony.”

In response, she arched a single eyebrow, a silent indication that there was more to your statement than met the eye.

“And a death in Penacony means what?” She asked slowly.

You strained to recall the answer to that question, your mind rifling through the wealth of knowledge gleaned from the books you had devoured upon awakening. In this dream realm, death held no sway, its specter banished from the bounds of this surreal reality. Your heart quickened with anticipation as the answer began to crystallize in your mind.

“It means returning back to reality.”

If your injuries were indeed severe enough to land you in a hospital bed, on the edge of your life and stripped of your memories, why hadn't you simply returned to reality?

Or rather, why hadn’t Sunday brought you back to reality?

“Wake up, songbird. Break free from this eternal dream.”

Your consciousness plunged beneath the surface instantly, submerged in the depths of an endless ocean. With each stroke, you struggled against the weight of the water, yearning for the surface just out of reach. Yet, propelled by an unseen force, your mind surged forward, propelled by the current of your subconscious.

.

.

.

You coughed up air, gasping for breath as you struggled to fill your lungs, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you in waves. 

Where the hell were you?

You found yourself seated in a pool of water within the confines of a colossal oyster, a fleeting memory flickering in your mind—a recollection of this being the entrance to the Dreamscape.

You were back in reality.

The room was tastefully decorated, with screens displaying a serene beachside view and lush green plants adorning the corners. A cozy fireplace added warmth and ambiance to one wall. It became evident that this was your personal space, as stacks of books adorned every available surface.

As you meticulously combed through the books, your fingers trembled with anticipation, a sense of dread beginning to gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. Each page turned revealed nothing but mundane details, no hint of Sunday's potential duplicity. Yet, the oppressive silence of the room seemed to press in on you, suffocating and thick with apprehension.

Nobody should have knowledge of your clandestine presence, save for Black Swan, yet the hollow echo of a knock shattered the stillness, reverberating through the room like a harbinger of doom. Each rap upon the door sent shivers racing down your spine, your heartbeat thundering like a drumbeat of impending dread.

Was it Sunday?

Was he going to force you back into the Dreamscape?

Hesitation rooted you on the spot, hand trembling as it hovered over the doorknob. Fear coiled in your chest like a venomous serpent, paralyzing your every movement. But the relentless knocking persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing second, until it felt as though the very walls themselves were closing in.

“Sparrow, are you alright?”

Sunday.

And yet he sounded… concerned?

His genuinely distressed tone had a disarming effect, causing your guard to falter. With a hesitant hand, you reached for the doorknob, feeling it's cool metal beneath your fingertips. 

Even with your slow movements, Sunday hadn’t rushed to open the rest of the door. His voice was gentle, “My love, were you attacked again?”

What?

Did you awaken here the last time you were attacked?

You met Sunday's gaze, but the expression etched upon his face was unlike anything you had ever seen. His eyes, typically ablaze with a golden warmth, now held a chilling intensity, their once vibrant hue dimmed to a somber shade. In their depths, a glimmer of suspicion flickered, casting an ominous pall over his countenance. His stare bore into you with a laser-like focus, each line etched upon his features to show the gravity of his scrutiny. 

“No… I was with…”

Your mind stuttered once more, faltering in its attempt to grasp onto the memory of the woman you had just encountered. The image of her beautiful lavender hair and the melodic cadence of her voice began to fade, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It was as if the memories were elusive phantoms, slipping away from your grasp, leaving behind only fragments of a conversation and a sense of disorientation in their wake.

Sunday remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he observed your inner turmoil with a focused intensity. In a fleeting instant, the tension dissolved from his features, replaced by a tender expression as he lifted a hand to caress your cheek. Leaning in, he gently pressed his forehead against yours, a silent gesture of reassurance.

“Let me take care of you, Songbird.”

“Where… Where are we going?”

“Let’s forgo the Dreamscape tonight. The dinner menu in the lounge sounded particularly appetizing.”

As your mind grappled with the swirling chaos of conflicting memories, one thought remained steadfast: the yearning to return to reality and leave the Dreamscape. Yet, Sunday stood before you, extending an invitation to remain in reality with him. His gentle encouragement, coupled with the suggestion of sharing a meal together, created a tug-of-war within your soul - if he was truly suspicious, wouldn’t he want to return to the Dream?

“Something wrong, my dear?” Sunday asked, his trademark gentle smile once again gracing his features.

A pang of guilt gnawed at a corner of your mind, for you had harbored suspicions of Sunday throughout your time in the Dreamscape. Yet, here he stood, seemingly without fault, extending an open invitation to spend time with him outside the confines of the dream.

“No, let’s.. Let’s get dinner.” You spoke softly, slipping your hand into his and surprising him with your initiative, taking the lead for once.

“Of course, my love.”

You traversed the halls in silence, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts as you pondered the origins of your suspicion towards Sunday. He had been your rock, your unwavering support, proving his loyalty and love over the years of your marriage. It was probably the amnesia that made you wary, but you felt somewhat guilty that you held suspicions over the one person who may not have deserved it. 

Lost in contemplation, you scarcely noticed the world around you until you chanced upon a young boy, his striking white hair and azure garments catching your attention in the otherwise familiar surroundings.

“Welcome back to the Reverie! If you need any assistance, feel free to let me know.” He greeted you by name, making you smile at his sunny disposition. 

“Thank you, we’re headed down to the VIP lounge now for dinner.” Sunday responded, pausing to reply to the bellboy.

“I’m sorry, I had an accident and I don’t remember your name. Can you tell me yours?”

“No problem, my name is Misha.”

.

.

.

“A pleasure to meet you Misha.” You replied before waving goodbye, smiling as you went with Sunday by your side.

Perhaps you were wrong to be suspicious of Sunday. But no matter, you had an entire lifetime to make it up to your darling husband. He had been so kind to you these last few weeks, you resolved to make amends and shower your darling husband with the love and trust he deserved. Recollections of his tender gestures flooded your mind—the soft kisses, the gentle caresses—that had brought warmth and comfort to your heart over the past weeks. With a smile playing at your lips, you embraced the idea of spending a lifetime cherishing him.

You leaned up on your toes, gently kissing the side of his cheek as you walked through the halls.

Perhaps things were as they should be.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Despite what Robin claimed, Sunday loved you, truly.

Even when you threatened to leave his side for good.

When Robin returned back from her journey on death’s door, Sunday had not simply presented the idea of keeping her here on Penacony.

He enforced it.

In the tender heart of Sunday resided his beloved sister, a cherished soul intertwined with his very essence—his own lifeblood. Why, then, would he ever allow her to return to the perilous realms from whence she came? 

Society was too cold, too dangerous. 

Robin vocalized her discontent, lamenting the confines of the gilded cage that Penacony had become for her. Yet it was a cage adorned not with mere bars but with the allure of gold and the promise of boundless dreams. She could do anything, be anything. In fact, she was already a renowned celebrity who had the love of her last remaining family member. 

Why return to danger when here she prospered?

“It is still a cage.” She would counter, frustration dripping from her words.

And how much more did it break his heart when you took her side?

“Sunday, my love.” As if any endearments would affix his shattered heart. “Robin has a message that she must continue spreading. Keeping her confined here, what about the people she needs to reach?”

No.

He refused to accept their words.

Sunday’s sacrifices were grains of sand slipping through an hourglass, bearing the weight of his every aspiration, relinquished one by one until they formed a towering edifice, precarious yet resolute. At its peak stood the pinnacle of his being — his own life — offered willingly to maintain this dreamlike world even until the very last breath of eternity.

How much more was he willing to give-up?

Or rather, what was he allowed to be selfish for?

His dear sister.

And certainly, you.

As the Stellaron continued to leak Asdana’s memoria into the material world, Sunday felt his final dreams come to fruition. The Dreamscape was blending with reality, making even reality itself an illusion. 

He told himself repeatedly that this was for the good of humanity, a paradise where every individual was able to indulge in their delightful dreams and live their own personal happily ever after.

And what of yours?

Sunday granted you the freedom to roam Penacony at will, affording you the opportunity to reach for the stars even in his physical absence. But your frustration mounted, you knew he was watching from a distance anyway, a million eyes at his beck and call in this so-called Dream. You continued to voice your discontent, arguing that freedom within the confines of a cage was not truly freedom.

Why did you insist on leaving this eternal dream?

Would you leave his side and return to being an abandoned orphan, tossed aside somewhere in the old Penacony?

No, he would not allow it.

Even if he had to rewrite your memories along the way.

[writa-anon]

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

[officialdaydreamer00]

Aimless outing

in which you took your significant other out for a ride.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: kinda short oneshot, lower case intended, this is just a spoonful of sugar tbh, everyone thank deuce for lending us his blastcycle, kinda ooc idia? idk, actually based on a screenshot in the game i'm playing and i love that lmao, reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours

★ the daydreamer speaks — my second entry for my tumblr older sibling @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! the worms are worming and i'm on a roll hehe ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @keii-starz @xen-blank @loser-jpg @lemonchuu @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @escha-evenstar

remember to comment or reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Yuu-shi, where are we going!?"

"Somewhere, anywhere! Does it really matter?"

a slow sunday and the lack of immediate tasks in your schedule was all you needed. and what better way to spend the day with your beloved than taking him out for a ride?

deuce was kind enough to lend you his blastcycle for this little trip of yours, wishing you good luck and all, and you've already gotten permission to go out from the headmage the day before, as much as you hated his gut. meanwhile, ortho was doing his best to get idia waiting outside of campus, and making sure he didn't second guess his desicions before you arrive.

and that led us to where you were now, going kilometres per hour as if gliding through the highway, feeling the cool wind of a chilly afternoon excitedly picking up your hair as the sun retreated behind the mountains. you loved the thrill it gave you, if the bright wide grin on your face was of any indications.

idia, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. with his arms coiled tightly around your waist, hands trembling ever so slightly, he hid his face in your hair, not daring even a peek at the blurring surroundings.

"It's not a ride if you can't see what made it so fun in the first place, Idia! Just give it a try, then we can go back if you want."

idia stayed quiet, weighing his options. he could ask you to go back and return to the monotony of his life, safe yet nothing special. or, he could continue on this ride, just you and him on the road to an ambiguous destination.

he opened his eyes, widening as they laid on the most beautiful painting of dusk mother nature had drawn. white, pink, and orange blended together so harmoniously on a darkening blue canvas. rows of clouds lined the sky, bouncing around the little lights left of the sun onto the crashing waves the sea created.

his breath was taken away.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

idia could only muttered a soft 'yeah' as his eyes glued at picturesque scenery, taking in all he could for he wasn't sure he was going to see such a sight again. his tight grip on you slowly loosened, now only wrapping around your waist like a warm hug you would give him on chilly days.

the moon soon made its appearance as the canvas of nature was painted black, stars glimmering from beyond like diamonds in the sky. the two of you was making your way back to campus, with the blastcycle's headlights and idia's hair illuminating the road.

idia found the night sky was beautiful, a lot different from dusk, but he loved it all the same.

it was a fleeting sensation of a thrill so different than what his heart was used to, but it was welcoming, a comfort even. especially when you were there with him, laughing without a care and genuinely living in the moment.

it was a memory he wished to never forget.

[jolapeno]

had to see you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

summary: And then, he says, “It’s nice.” “You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.” “It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

an: eventual smut. angst with happy ending. will-they-won't-they, but they do. smut. he loves you 100%. word count: 5.7k || there’s a part two to this here

simon ghost riley masterlist

You love the rain. 

Not so much when you’re away. When you’re strapped up, weighed down by all your gear. The additional weight of being wet makes for an uncomfortable experience, with hair clinging to foreheads and mud sticking to your skin. It also forces things to rub more, chaff. Your skin is often raw from where the buckles and belts sit. 

But, at home, it’s refreshing. 

It’s why you never hated your nickname, the one given to you in jest—to remind you that you are a female, soft, emotional. Only for it to grow more fitting. Because Rain comes from above, sharp, falling where needed—catching people by surprise, and leaving traces behind, but never enough to know where you’ll land next. 

Rain is also one word. One syllable. Short, sharp and easy.

It can be spat, it can be sweetly said and affectionately called. 

On good days, it reminds you of long car rides, staring out of windows at passing traffic as you watch beads of its travel down—racing. On bad days, it reminds you of more unpleasant memories, ones born in moments you’d sooner forget, an emptiness in your chest from betrayal, loss and bad choices. 

At home, rain itself keeps you rooted. The scent, for one, not allowing your mind to whisk you off too old memories of war and enemy territories. The sound, for another, hits your windows and dulls the silence. All three senses are busied by it. It all blends perfectly together with the crackling of your candles and the low-light vibe you have going off in your flat. 

Plus, there’s nothing more British than bad weather. 

Each time you’re able to come home, you hope it’s raining. Landing back, greeted with cold and horrid rain. Preferably the kind which looks misty through windows and soaks you in seconds when you step into it. The kind which makes it hard to know which speed to put your car wipers on, and socks get drenched as puddles form quicker than people can account for.

You didn’t care that you looked like a drowned rat when you unlocked your flat door. Or that your wet clothes were difficult to remove as steam filled your bathroom because you were always going to have a shower. A routine—a tradition of sorts. 

Hands desperate to wash the months away, let your expensive soaps and scents soak into neglected skin and smother old scars and newly gained ones. Plus, the water was hotter at home, almost scolding your skin as you stood under it, letting each droplet massage a part of your neck and upper back as your living room music drifted through the cracked door.

You dress before you really prune, sliding on silk PJs—the ones which you buy as a treat and wear once, maybe twice a year. Your skin sighs in relief, thankful to forget sand, bullets and bruises, the same as your mind. Busying your hands with preparing a lavish dinner, a large dish too ridiculous for one person—but again, you’d missed it. Home.

The scent of gravy, potatoes and meat.

When asked, you’d been quiet about your plans with the others. Them only having a slight idea of which city you call home. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them—not even sure you’d be able to fall asleep without Soap’s snores, Ghost’s huffs and Gaz’s odd bedtime stories. But, you’d gained new nightmares on the last job—ones which you needed to make peace with before they stole another fraction of your soul.

That’s what it did, eventually. Even to the best of them. 

Bad choices, untested intel and wrong moves left little marks before they claimed a piece of innocence, kindness and happiness. 

It’s a little different with the 141. Without realising it, you’re sure you all help smother each other's struggles away. But it’s only temporary. You know it, you can feel it in the muscles in your back and in the knots in your stomach. So, if you saw them now when you needed to heal—if you relied on them—you’d go back weaker than when you left. And they needed you; you needed them. A team where you could only trust one another—having been betrayed so often, you were all each other had.

It’s why you were taken back by a firm knock. 

Short. Deliberate. 

Pausing, allowing whoever they were to realise their mistake. Even if the sound didn’t appear as though they’d chosen the wrong flat or someone who was cherry-knocking. It was purposeful, direct, and your hands quickly dried on the kitchen towel as your feet crossed the tiles and laminate to your front door. 

When you’d left, you’d asked a friend to check in on the flat—fix the peephole. Something having forced it to get stuck, leaving you blind to whoever was on the other side. Your friend is good, kind, and sweet but forgetful. Something which also reminds you of home as you snort, undoing the chain, and unlocking the door, half expecting them. 

Only to see him. 

“Ghost?” 

He has a hood up, and a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. 

His eyes fall over you, taking you in centimetre by centimetre, digging into you as if he’d not expected to see you.

You find it just as odd to see the skin around his eyes not tainted in grey or black and that his frame is still as ridiculously large, even in plain clothes, as he holds a duffel bag in his hand.

Suddenly aware of the thin layer covering your body from him. Especially as his eyes drop from your face to the silk shirt with its three buttons undone and then to your legs, where silk shorts did their best but were futile in hiding thighs, knees or legs from him.  

“You lettin’ me in?” 

Instinctively, you move, not even questioning it. 

Even if he didn’t say it like an order, he was still your lieutenant. Even on home ground, you slipped into your sergeant role too quickly. Watching him pass you, turning to face the direction he moves in before pressing your back against the inside of your door. Fingers sliding to the side of you, turning the lock, the sound filling the small space as you watch him stop at your key hook, slowly sliding his feet from his boots—finding him wearing thick, bobbly socks. 

He turns to face you, eyes washing over you again as his hood remains up as he undoes the scarf. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen his face a handful of times, each time, it still renders you silent, if only for a second. 

Clearing your throat, you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t mean this to come out as rude, but why are you—“

“Someone broke into my place.” 

You move, almost too quickly, from the door. Your hand brushing his shoulder, wanting—needing—to comfort him, soothe him like you would a friend. Before you remembered who this was. 

Almost surprised he doesn’t flinch. Even if he does shoot you a surprised look before you wrench your hand back. 

“S-sorry. Habit.” He frowns, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole. “Not with y—when I’m home, I’m… well, I—did they take anything?” 

“Not sure.” 

Right. “Do you need somewhere to stay?” 

He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick away, the tell-tale signs of him processing and thinking. You’ve seen him do it often, especially when Price is talking and when he reads files. As if he’s choosing where to store it in the filing cabinet, he calls his brain. 

“Please,” he says, the word almost coming out as a whisper. 

As if it’s so rarely ever said. 

You’re unsure what to say, even if there’s so much swirling around your brain. So many questions you want to pepper him with, but he’s not Soap, who’ll answer them all or Gaz, who’ll have already told you everything. 

He’s Ghost. 

Silent. Quiet, Ghost. 

Your oven beeps, his head turning to the sound. 

Sighing, you rub your arms, suddenly aware of how cold your hallway feels, as you cover your chest with your elbows. “You hungry?” 

Silence. 

A beat or two blossoming, your eyes unable to move from his face, even if you know you should, before he licks his lips, saying, “Starving.” 

You smile, “Good. It's not a lot, just some chicken, potatoes… a bit of veg. Nothing huge. And, not quite a typical Sunday roast, but enough to ease me back in.” 

He doesn’t laugh, not that you expect him to. 

“Bathroom is there, to your right. If you need it,” you say quickly, almost stepping past him to answer your beeping oven. “I just need to dish up, and… yeah.” 

You expect to feel calmer by the time he’s back. Especially with your dressing gown on, loosely knotted at your waist, covering more of you from him. 

But you’re more nervous. 

Doubting the food you’ve plated, the scent of the candles, whether the low lights make it romantic and whether you should turn up the acoustic songs playing or let the rain be the soundtrack of the evening. Suddenly aware of how fucking odd this is. 

Him being here. 

And yet, not that odd at all. 

“Hope it’s okay…” you mumble nervously as you place the plate down.

He looks like he belongs at your table, even if your table is small and usually for one-person. He’d helped, in as much of a way as a stranger can in someone’s home, grabbing glasses from cupboards you direct him to, making squash for you and water for him. 

His hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he waited for further instruction, catching sight of the hood still being up, having noticed he’d swapped jeans for dark joggers before you told him to sit. 

“There’s more gravy… just wasn’t sure how you liked it,” you add. 

Ghost doesn’t answer, not even as you slide into the chair opposite. Your hands have a slight tremble to them as you pick up your cutlery, trying not to watch him take a bite—suddenly feeling like a contestant on a judging show. 

And then, he says, “It’s nice.” 

“You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.”

“It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a fork grazing the plate and the knife slicing through food. It’s almost normal—as though this happens regularly. 

“Your place is nice, too,” he mumbles.  

Lifting your head, you find he’s looking at you already. “You don’t have to lie, Simon. You can still stay even if you think my decor is odd.” 

His eyes widen a fraction before it vanishes like it never existed. A brief moment of you wondering why, until you realise the slip—the way you used his name and not his alias. Making it feel personal. More so than the two of your knees occasionally butting under the table. 

“It’s not what I expected.” 

“You’ve thought about my place?” 

Ghost says nothing, hovering his fork over his dinner as he keeps his eyes down. 

You smile if only to yourself, pushing some meat and vegetables onto your fork, continuing—wondering if he’s hoping you would. That silence would settle over the two of you, the storm outside being enough background noise to keep it from being awkward. 

“I have to ask,” you say suddenly, keeping your gaze down, trying to still your pulse as you manoeuvre food around the sauce. “Why me? I mean… I don’t mind you being here, but I thought, well, I assumed you’d pick Soap—if you needed a place to stay.”

You try not to look, even when you hear a faint snort, seeing his plate—empty, only traces of broccoli stalks remaining—slide closer as the chair creaks in his movement. 

“You were closer.” 

Oh. 

Your stomach drops, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking there could be any other reason. 

Almost wanting to kick yourself for allowing yourself to consider another option, one which you’ve been stuffing down for weeks, months… 

It isn’t as though you were meant to fall for him. The man who originally kept his face a higher guarded secret than his own name. But, it stemmed naturally and out of nowhere. He made you laugh as you moved into an enemy building—nerves humming in your bones. He made it worse when he flung himself in front of you before a car exploded, gripping you tightly against him, not letting go for minutes later before his hand cupped your cheek, mouthing words you couldn’t hear as ears rang and rang.

Smiling, you nod, not sure what else to say as you take his plate and yours, turning your back to him as you hear him clear his throat. 

“I had to see if you were okay.” 

You don’t place the plates down, not immediately. 

Eyes trying to peer at him through the corner of your vision, slowly lowering the porcelain to the counter—too afraid to break the moment with a single sound, even as your heart hammered in your ears, in your chest, and throat. 

He had said it so softly, you have to wonder how long it’s been churning on his tongue. 

Slowly turning, you face him, finding his eyes already on you with an awkwardness in his shoulders as he looks up at you. 

“Well, I’m fine.” 

“Had to be sure.” 

You smile, pulling your dressing gown around you tighter. “Well, that’s because you’re a good lieutenant.” 

His brows knit, lips spreading into a thin light before you notice the subtle shift in his nostrils as though he’s sighed before Ghost nods with his usual professionalism. That’s when your stomach drops, fluttering ridiculously near your feet as you feel you’ve made a mistake.  

“Tea?” you ask. 

Ghost’s face shifts and you’re almost sure there’s a faint smile on his lips. 

“Don’t worry, I know how you like it,” you add, pulling open a cupboard as you retrieve two mugs and flick the kettle on. “I’ve heard you berate Soap for his piss-poor tea skills.”

You make him snort. 

And it does nothing to stifle the fluttering.

If anything, it adds to it. 

Shit. 

Even though it’ll be his bed for the night, Ghost refuses to sit on the sofa and doesn’t allow you to sit in the armchair. Practically insisting you sit how you would if he wasn’t here. Even if you’re worried he won’t be comfortable, the ridiculous chair was bought as a filler—an accessory, rather than something people actually used.

“Fine,” you mumbled, grabbing your blanket and curling up across both seats as he clutched the mug in his hand. 

You put something crap on the TV, the volume low—just in case he doesn’t feel like talking. Your eyes flick to it occasionally, half-listening as you softly wiggle your toes under the blanket—needing something to focus on. Because you couldn’t keep looking at him. 

Not with how your mind was running away from you, imagining ifs and buts and everything else in between. 

He fits here. Your home rarely feels warm and comforting, but with his presence, it does. As though your place has always wanted to be enjoyed by two people, not one person who rarely ever visited it. 

It doesn’t feel weird, even if it should. It makes you feel unsteady, and dizzy. Suddenly unable to stop focusing on the fact there’s a six-foot-something amount of feelings in your chest, twisting and tightening, trying to unlock everything you stuffed down. 

That same instinct and set of emotions which made you try to rip yourself from Soap’s grip when Ghost had entered a blazing building just for a stupid USB; how you’d been so angry, feral—as Soap called it—not able to think, how it had filled you, consuming you. How you’d even told Price you needed benching, unable to even look at your lieutenant, never mind be in the same room. 

He eventually cornered you on the base, pushing you, mixing between berating and taunting you until you slammed your small fist into his shoulder as you called him an idiot, a fucking cunt, a liability, a heartless cunt. How your tiny fist hammered into him with each array of insults until he grasped it tenderly, staring at you until tears bubbled in your eyes. 

You cannot die.

Why?

But, he had to know. His eyes followed a single tear down your cheek as he released your wrist, allowing you to walk away from him and begin the process of stuffing everything down again. 

Then you’d been shot. Through and through. Fire, gasp and fucking pain, your mind rendered uselessly, but he was still the person you called for. Not Soap, who was closer, not Gaz, who could actually stitch you. But Ghost. 

Ghost who came in a flash, telling you what you needed to hear—ordering you to do things like look at him, gripping his arm. 

“What?” 

Blinking, you didn’t even realise you’d been looking at him. Your mind blanking excuses tumbling from your grasp as you offer the quickest smile and a ‘nothing’. 

You forget how good he is at reading people. 

Especially you. Almost sure you make it easy for him, even if everyone else says they struggle. 

Ghost always knows, as though he’s in your head, digging his way through each time he stares at you. You wonder how much you let him in, whether he finds it easy before you want him in there—in your mind, in your heart. 

Now, he’s giving you a stern look, one which makes the truth rattle in your chest and snakes up your throat. 

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine, I was thinking about how weirdly normal it is that you’re here. That it doesn’t feel weird, alright? That was it.��� 

Anyone else, you’d think they’d smirk. 

But with him, it’s the slightest movement of his lip which tells you he has heard you. 

Ghost takes a sip, purposefully holding your gaze as he does so before filling the silence with, “You thought about it, then? Me being here.” 

“Of course I have,” you answer too quickly, wanting to kick yourself as the words hit the air, his brows raising as he sips his tea. “Not… Not like that.” 

“How then?” 

Shit. Swallowing, you sigh, trying to buy yourself time. Shit, bollocks, shit. 

“Should tell you, lying to your lieutenant isn’t smart.” 

You give him a sharp look of your own, and he snorts—actually snorts. Your eyes are all set to roll until he says your name. 

Your real name. 

Not your nickname. Not sergeant or soldier. 

“Fine. I’ve thought about it.”

“It?” 

You groan, pulling the blanket up further—not that it’ll hide the obvious warming of your cheeks or embarrassment. You’re sure that’s painted across the room, likely even doing a jig at your expense. 

“Us. You, me. In a bed,” you mumble. “Happy?” 

Wanting to hide your face, almost about to when the sound of his mug meeting your coaster makes you freeze. Your armchair—the one his frame has somehow fit into comfortably—groans as he moves, and you let yourself see him from the corner of your eye. His forearms leaning on his knees, his hand sliding his hood down as he watches you. 

He’s silent. 

So silent it almost kills you. The adverts in the background do nothing to stop it; the rain, now hammering against the windows, was not stifling it. 

Slowly breathing as you place your mug down, standing before you can even consider the options. “I didn’t realise how late it is,” you say, forcing a yawn. “I should… go to bed. Let you make your bed.” 

You fold the blanket, throwing it over the arm as you try to shrug, and play it off, but he’s quicker at recognising you—he knows you better than that. His hand comes to touch your wrist, like he did months ago, eyes scanning yours.

For what you’re not sure. 

Not wanting to get your hopes up. Not wanting to lose yourself in dreams and imagination. 

So, you smile. As sweetly and as believable as you can as you point to the coffee table chest. “Blankets, pillows, the lot are in there,” you say, almost breathlessly, as he releases you. “Have a nice sleep, Gh—Simon.” 

He swallows, his face remains unreadable as he chokes out, “You too.” 

But you’re already moving, desperately seeking your room—throwing the door open and shutting it as you place your back against it. She’s closing, chest hammering so hard you’re sure it’s trying to escape. 

Go back. 

Go back to him. 

Your eyes slowly open, catching sight of yourself in the mirror as the street lamps partially light your room.

He came to check on you. You. 

Rolling your neck, your fingers flex at your side, twisting your wrists, wanting to shake it all from you. Trying, desperately to rid yourself of the tension and adrenaline. Almost doing so until you hear the floorboards outside your door creak. 

It doubles your heart rate as a lump forms in your throat, suffocating you. You don’t want to give in, but wish to all at once. Your hand cupping your mouth, trying to hide the extra breaths the sound has forced you to make. Needing him. Wanting his calloused fingers to leave marks over your skin, his stubble to slice against your cheeks as his lips capture your breath, words and soul.  

It’s that which makes you shift from the door. Not sure what you’re expecting, what you’re going to see, as your hand twists the doorknob, coming face to face with him all over again. 

His hoodie is gone. 

Expression torn—that same awkwardness in his shoulders.

Your hallway light touches his unreadable expression, highlighting all the lines and shading of his tattoo that stand out against his skin. 

“Tell me to go back to your living room.” 

Inhaling sharply, your hand drops from your mouth and falls limply to your side. 

You are not thinking, thoughts all scattered, scrambled. Not even sure you can find words to tell him you want anything but. That you want him here, right in front of you; you want him to be rough and also kind, you want him to kiss you like he’ll never have the chance to again. 

As though reading you, he moves closer, not even touching you, but your body yearns for him, muscles tensing and spasming at the endless thoughts of what could be—what he could do, what you already know he’d be good at. Suddenly wanting to rid yourself of your dressing gown, of your PJs, of the thin lace between your thighs you’ve already ruined. 

“Words, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart.

Your legs almost give way, a smile wanting to bloom and spread across your lips, up your cheeks until it's radiating from you. 

“Tell me. Or I’ll kiss you.” 

Speechless, your lips part. 

Yes. Please, yes. 

Not even sure you are even breathing as you imagine his hands on you, his mouth against yours, against your neck, descending down and down—

His hand cups your cheek, pulling your eyes to his as he examines you. He studies you like he’s capturing every fucking inch of you: the curve of your cheeks, the position of your brows, the way your lips are waiting for him. The clear crisis you’re going through is rendered and broken at the mere thought of this becoming a reality. 

“Simon…” you manage to whisper.

Hoping it's enough. Needing it to be enough. 

He blinks once more before he lowers his head, his lips planting against yours and you’re sure you explode. Your heart furiously beating, ears buzzing and burning all at once.

Barely focusing on the way his arm snakes around you as your mouth moves to meet each one of his movements. His lips are soft, even if his tongue is rough; his grip tight, purposeful—desperate, even if yours are gentle, nervous. The pads of your fingers slide past the healed scar on his cheek, moving into his hair, his groan vibrating against your lips. 

Gh—Simon is almost lifting you, moving you back as his foot kicks your bedroom door shut behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway. Only the streetlights dance shadows across your room as kisses grow messier, fingers brushing over skin as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your shorts, then sliding, freeing you, until you’re stepping out of them. Your robe next, falling with a thud as your hands slide under his t-shirt, feeling taut, hard muscle and silver scars which paint stories as your legs find your bed. 

He smells different than usual.

Less sweat and fireworks, and more some combination of Ghost meeting sandalwood and amber as the two of you bend down onto your bed, the frame hissing at the weight and movement—not even aware of what’ll be expected to support soon enough. 

“Shit, woman. Y’know how beautiful you are?” 

His teeth nipping, sucking, leaving an answer to your prayer before you feel him unbuttoning your top, all slow and gentle, as if undoing a present he’s waited desperately for. 

“Rip it,” you moan, his teeth grazing over the space between your breasts before he lifts up. 

His eyes burn into yours, the smallest evidence of a smirk on his mouth as he slowly shakes his head. “I’ve waited too fuckin’ long to get here, I’m takin’ my damn time.” 

If you weren’t already soaked for him, that did it. 

All slick, swollen and hungry for him. Not sure if it’ll even take much, not with how precise you can imagine him being—how fucking thick his fingers are, how he’s staring at you like he wants to break you in all the ways he can before sunrise.

And you want it. Desperate for it. So much so that just the fan of his warm breath against your exposed nipples makes you rub your thighs together, needing friction—something he can tell, he must do. 

“Wait.”

It’s sharp, authoritative, and he’s going to be the death of you. 

Your body is so tense, you’re sure it’ll snap if you keep any more still as he undoes the last button and exposes your skin to the cool air and his breath. So focused on his eyes, you’ve forgotten all about his hand until you feel lace dig into your waist, tightening and tightening—snap.

And he smirks.

The devious bastard smirks. 

Your lips part to make a remark—one you’re not even wholeheartedly sure will come out right—but it dies when he touches you, one finger, one thick calloused finger sliding between your thighs, brushing where you need him. 

“Fuck…”

“Part them, sweetheart.”

And you do.

You do it like he’s said open-fucking-sésame. Two fingers sliding against you, diving between your folds. It’s intense, teasing and everything all at once. It’s making you burn and shiver, sweat building on your brow as you pant and whimper. His name falls freely, almost chanting it, like a song you’re the only one who can sing it. He captures what he can, tasting each syllable you say of his name until you’re tightening and clenching, and he whispers in your ear how good you are, how perfect you are, and you meet your orgasm with blinding lights and arched back. 

The sight of him licking your want from his fingers brings you back, his mouth crashing against yours as you pull him down, knee bent against his hip as his hand comes to rest on your hip—the one you hope he’s bruising. Wanting, wishing for him to leave literal fingerprints as your hand slides between the two of you.

You knew before tonight Simon Riley would be big. 

Almost too big. 

The weight of him against your palm is something else, the thickness of his cock in between your fingers as you make him hiss, thumb swiping over the head as he groans. 

He mixes kissing and nipping at your neck depending on what your hand does, the groans of your name making you desperate—needing him inside you, suddenly empty and desperate all over again, but not for his fingers. 

You want him so deep in you you’ll forever feel empty without him. You want to feel every inch of him, want to rock against his hips as you press half-moons into his skin as nails dig into him. 

The ache growing, worsening as his tongue draws a line from your neck to your earlobe, his fist clenching around your bed sheets at your side. 

“Fuck… stop. Stop,” he groans, a hand smothering yours, halting you as he stares at you before pressing his forehead against yours. 

Letting him go, touching his cheek—his eyes full of lust, searing into you. 

“I want you.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, his lips sliding up into a half-smirk—a Simon special. “I’ll go slow.”

“I hope you fucking don’t.”

His eyes harden. “I’m going slow. I’ll ruin you later,” he whispers darkly, before capturing your lips, a hand gripping the back of your thigh—shifting it just over his hip.

You're set to argue, and comment you can handle it until you feel him lineup, the head of his cock pushing against your folds. 

You gasp as his hips move forward, slowly pushing himself in, your nails digging into his shoulder, into his waist as shivers run down your spine. The stretch being both too much and everything all at once, your toes curling, him slowly burying his cock all the way in as his fingers stroke your jaw.  

“So fu—tight. Fuckin'-shit, sweetheart.” 

“Simon…” 

Your hips roll, moaning at the way it feels, having never felt so full. Never felt so stretched. 

He’s slow, as he has been since he stepped over the threshold. His determination to take things slow, to take his time, not lessening now that he’s deep inside of you. 

You’re sure you’ve left an array of welts and half-moon marks into his shoulders as he begins to roll his hips, his thrusts purposeful, desperately seeking that spot he already knows. 

“Eyes on me,” he says, thumb against your jaw as your eyes lashes beg to flutter, but land on him all the same. “There’s my girl.” 

It’s sinful the moan you let escape at his praise, your legs almost jelly as he steals it with a kiss—as though to taste it. Your mouth grasping for him when he pulls his head back, gripping your hip, helping you both to find a steady pace.

He does ruin you.

Not the first time, the second, but on the third.

Legs so sore, boneless and aching you can barely walk without his aid to the bathroom. 

You’re not surprised he places you down on the side of the bath, taking a cloth you point him to as he cleans between your thighs as your hisses feel the space. You catch sight of yourself, an array of colours developing across your neck, collarbone and waist—just like you wanted.

A painting in colours of his own design. 

You expect awkwardness once you shuffle back, giving him a moment. Finding underwear, sliding it over shaky legs before surrendering the idea of PJs as you slid between your duvet and sheets. When he returns, you brace for regret—for words you wish he’d swallow, face hidden in the scarf or behind a mask, but he’s in boxers and shuts your door with care. 

Simon crosses the room, lifting the duvet as he slides in next to you, reaching out, tugging your back to his chest as he places a single kiss on the space below your earlobe. 

You want to tell him everything. That you like him, could even love him by now. That you look for him too, that you worry, that you care. You'd tell him that he has pierced your heart, and you welcome the sting, that you'd be there, whenever he needed it. Even with knowing he likes space and distance and everything else in between.

"Stop thinkin' so loud," he grumbles against your skin.

Smiling, you fix your eyes across the darkness, finding the outline of your dresser as his hand finds your hip. Whether to soothe you or silence you, it makes your hands clammy.

Unsure if he knows that someone loves him. Someone wants him alive, wants him uninjured.

“I have feelings for you…” you whisper, fixing your eyes on your dresser as you swallow. “In case it wasn’t obvious.” 

He doesn’t tense, doesn’t move. 

Blinking, you try to trace the shapes of your handles, keeping your mind busy, the silence building and building. 

"Say that again." You turn your head, meeting his stare, watching as he raises his knuckles before he traces your cheekbone. "Please."

His touch is so gentle, so soft that it makes your heart swell—your face relaxing as you repeat it again. "I have feelings for you.

"I care about you and...I like you alive, Simon."

You don't expect a reply, a declaration of his own. The fact he hasn't moved and hasn't pulled his knuckles from stroking your cheek, is enough of a declaration. Your lips turn, meeting them, pressing the softest kiss to them as if saying I know, I don't need to hear it. I know.

Letting your eyes ensure the message lands as you hold his gaze, ever-so-slightly nodding.

“I texted him. Johnny," he says. His fingers spread, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek. “But, I had to see you. Had to be sure.” 

Your eyes lower briefly, feeling your heart almost stammer at his words. “Because I’m your sergeant or because I’m your girl.” 

You’re my girl. Mine. Fuck, you’re mine. Mine. All mine. You hear me, sweetheart? 

His thumb pauses against your cheek, likely remembering the same words he chanted over and over as he fucked you senseless. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as his lips twitch, and yours try not to smile.

“The latter.” 

You nod. Feeling your body flush with warmth, turning your head back away from him, grinning as he pulls you flush against him.

Your heart thumping mine, mine, mine. Hearing him get comfortable against the pillow, a soft sigh blowing past his lips and kissing your skin.

“You make shit tea, though.” 

read part two

a huge thank you to @ghostaholics for this absolutely gorgeous graphic. I can’t believe how much it encapsulates the entire piece and is just so me, and so pretty. thank you so much, I appreciate it so much 💕!

[97linelover]

Summer lovin’ - Kim Mingyu

summary: Summer break means hanging out with friends, spending time with your loved ones and enjoy the weather.

What if you meet the love of your life on the beach and the drama unfolds from now on?

content: non idol Mingyu x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff, jealousy, lot´s of love

wc: 3.4 k

a/n: In the summer time I always binge watch grease, it makes me so happy. Growing up It was my dads favorite movie.

On a warm summer evening in a small coastal town, a story began as beautiful as the setting sun on the horizon.

Mingyu, a young man with dark hair and a dazzling smile, and you, with sparkling eyes and an beautiful laugh, met on the beach. It was a small and silly encounter, but one that would change your lives forever.

Mingyu led his group of friends who spent the summer hanging out, throwing beach parties, surfing, and having endless conversations. He was charming, popular, and always had a sneaky remark ready.

He was just the dream boy of everyone around here.

You, on the other hand, were new in town. You had moved there with your family for the holidays and were enjoying the peace and beauty of the coast. Your character was rather shy and held back.

That evening, when you first met, sparks flew immediately. You bumped into each other when Mingyu was tossing a can of soda to a friend, and you were packing up your beach bag. The soda landed right at your feet, spraying you, and you laughed as Mingyu grinned apologetically.

He was fascinated that you did not care the slightest about your yellow Summer Dress being full of soda right now.

"That's quite an introduction," you said, laughing, wiping some of the liquid of.

"I hope it wasn't a bad one," Mingyu replied, handing you a towel.

"Well I was just packing up anyways, It´s washable" you shrugged and from that moment on he knew you were different.

He took you out for dinner a day later.

From then on, you spent every day together. You rode bicycles through the streets of the town, shared ice cream at the pier, and danced to the sounds of beach concerts. Mingyu showed you his favorite spots while you shared stories of your old home.

Mingyu made this new home feel like you´ve been here forever, all the little memories he shared with you made you feel good.

As the summer days turned into weeks, your bond grew stronger. You had deep conversations under the stars, built sandcastles on the shore, and watched countless sunsets together. Mingyu found himself opening up to you in ways he never had with anyone else. And you, who had always been a bit reserved, felt completely at ease with Mingyu.

The way he lifted you up at the beach and ran into the water with you, the two of you just laughing like crazy, gave your mind some peace.

One afternoon, Mingyu took you on a surprise date to a hidden cove he had discovered as a child. The cove was a paradise, with crystal-clear water and soft sand. You spent the day swimming, exploring the tide pools, and lying on the beach, talking about your dreams and aspirations. As the sun began to set, Mingyu lit a small bonfire and brought out a guitar. He played a song he had written for you, his voice blending with the sound of the waves. It was a moment of pure magic.

His voice was deep and soft at the same time, it felt like some kind of home and safety.

As he put his guitar away you climbed into his lap, his large hands digged into your hips trough the fabric of the petticoat dress. His thumb softly stroke your cheek and you leaned in kissing him softly.

This was the first kiss the two of you shared, his hands wandered under your dress, your fingers playing with the hairs on his nape.

As the night continued Mingyu was hovering over you "you´re so beatiful Y/N" he said honestly and kissed you once again.

He took his time with you, cherishing your body and making you feel safe when he took your Virginity.

It was messy doing it at the beach, but in this exact moment, how he kissed you, how he rolled his hips, how he marked your body just felt perfect.

And you both felt so safe and loved.

But like every summer, this one too had to end. With the beginning of the new school year, you had to face the challenges of everyday life. Mingyu returned to his familiar surroundings, surrounded by his friends, and you tried to adjust to your new school.

Your first day back at school was a stark contrast to the carefree days of summer. Mingyu was greeted with high-fives and shouts from his friends, while you felt a pang of anxiety as you navigated the unfamiliar hallways. You had been looking forward to seeing Mingyu again, hoping to rekindle the magic of the summer, but when you saw him in the hallway, he walked past you without a second glance.

Confused and hurt, you approached him after class. "Mingyu, it's me," you said, hoping he had just been distracted.

Hoping that this day just made him as nervous as it made you.

He looked at you with a puzzled expression. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

You felt your heart sink. "It's me y/n... from the beach this summer. Come on quit the act" you´re voice was full of fear.

The only person you knew acting like you´re a stranger after this beautiful summer.

Mingyu's eyes flickered with recognition for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it. "Oh, right. Sorry, I was just really busy. See you around."

As he walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. The Mingyu you had spent those magical summer days with was now acting like a stranger. It didn't take long for you to find out why.

Mingyu's ex-girlfriend, Minji, had taken notice of you and Mingyu during the summer. Now that school had started, she was determined to keep him within her grasp.

She was still deeply in love with Mingyu, he was the highschool sweetheart, of course she wanted him.

Minji was popular, beautiful, and used to getting what she wanted. Seeing you with Mingyu ignited a jealousy that she couldn't contain. She spread rumors about you, trying to undermine your relationship. Whispers in the hallways and snide comments from her friends made you feel isolated and unsure.

Mingyu, pressured by his friends and Minji, decided it was easier to pretend he didn't know you. He thought it would protect you from Minji's wrath, but it only made things worse.

You felt abandoned and alone, navigating the harsh realities of high school without the support of the person you had grown so close to.

You had thought Mingyu would be by your side at the beginning of this new Journey.

But seeing him laughing with his friends group, meanwhile you were sitting alone on the bleacher brought back the harsh reality that this was just some summer fun for him.

But after some weeks Mingyu approached you, he did not leave your side and he always went to the beach with you.

He even asked you out to accompany him to the School Dance, you werent sure at first, but as he placed some kisses on your collarbone you agreed.

One particularly painful incident happened during a school dance. Mingyu had promised to meet you there, but Minji intercepted him, feigning a crisis to get his attention. As you stood waiting, watching couples dance and laugh, you felt a knot of anxiety in your stomach.

You felt like everyone laughed at you, the newbie being left alone at the school ball.

When Mingyu finally arrived, looking flustered, you could see Minji watching from a distance, a smug smile on her face.

"What took you so long?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I'm sorry, y/n. Minji... she said she needed help," Mingyu explained, but you could see the guilt in his eyes.

"So you always put her first?" you asked playing with the hem of your dress.

"No it´s not like that, I´m just to nice, if someone needs help I´ll help" he sighed cupping your cheek "let´s just enjoy the night sunny" he smiled.

You loved that he called you that because you always were the sunshine in his days.

And as your head laid on his chest, while the two of you swayed from side to side you felt like everything will be alright.

The tension between you and Minji reached a breaking point one afternoon at the beach.

"aren´t you ashamed of yourself? You´re a nobody, trying to steal my life Y/N" she spat. You could just stand there and watch her throwing insults at you "you could never be like me, you´re a nobody, Mingyu is just confused what he wants" She confronted you.

"And now you can´t even open that ugly mouth to talk, god damn what does he see in you" she said angry.

"He will come back if you´re not enough for him anymore" she spat and you gulped.

Mingyu arrived just in time to see you standing your ground, tears in your eyes but unwavering.

"Minji, stop," Mingyu said firmly. "This has gone too far."

Minji looked at him, hurt and anger flashing in her eyes. "You're choosing her over me?"

"I'm choosing what's right," Mingyu replied, taking your hand. "And what's right is not letting you hurt y/n anymore."

Minji's eyes narrowed. "You don't understand. She doesn't belong here. We belong together, Mingyu."

"That's not your decision to make," he said, his voice steady. "It's mine. And I've made my choice." he pulled you closer.

"You cannot be serious Mingyu, we were so good together" she whispered and glared at you "and then she came".

"It´s my life, my feelings, you can´t do shit about it Minji" he answered confident, Minji huffed and ran off.

As you looked up at him his fingers softly wiped away the tears "she´s not worth your tears Sunny" he whispered softly kissing you.

Minji's rage reached new heights. She began to spread more malicious rumors about you, this time saying you were using Mingyu for popularity.

She even went as far as to sabotage your schoolwork, framing you for cheating on an important test. You were called into the principal's office, and despite your protests of innocence, the evidence seemed damning.

It was funny because you were one of the best students here, and still they believed her.

Mingyu stood by you, though it strained his relationships with his friends. They questioned why he was risking so much for you, and Minji manipulated the situation to turn them against you both.

Mingyu's best friend, Jisoo, was particularly torn. He had known Minji for years and couldn't believe she would go to such lengths.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, you and Mingyu met at your secret spot on the beach. Tears streamed down your face as you told him about the latest rumor Minji had spread. Mingyu held you close, his jaw set in determination.

"We'll get through this," he said softly. "I promise you."

"how can you promise me? Nothing seems to work out" you sobbed against his chest.

"She´s just jealous Sunny" he kissed your head "but that does not allow her to hurt me like that" you said with a quiet voice.

"absolutely not, and I hope she realizes that I chose you" he lifted your head up "I want you, only you Sunny" he kissed you softly.

The final straw came during the school's annual talent show. You had been preparing a duet with Mingyu, a song that meant a lot to both of you.

On the night of the performance, Minji sabotaged the equipment, causing the music to cut out halfway through. The audience murmured in confusion, and you felt a wave of panic.

This had cost you a lot of strength to even to it and now this.

But then Mingyu took your hand and started singing a cappella. His voice was strong and steady, and slowly, you joined in. The audience fell silent, captivated by the raw emotion of your performance. When you finished, the room erupted in applause, louder than any before.

Mingyu smiled brightly at you kissing you "you did so great love" he whispered in your ear.

After the show, Jisoo approached you both, a conflicted look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to believe it, but I've seen enough. Minji's gone too far."

With Jisoo's support, more people began to see Minji's true colors. The principal reopened the investigation into the cheating scandal and discovered the truth. Minji was suspended, and you were exonerated.

Minji had done this to a few other students it seemed and the Principal was not happy.

As the school year progressed, you and Mingyu faced more challenges, but each one only strengthened your bond. You supported each other through exams, personal struggles, and the lingering effects of Minji's actions. You became each other's confidants and best friends, finding strength and comfort in your relationship.

One particularly memorable evening, Mingyu organized a surprise for you. He blindfolded you and led you to a secluded spot on the beach where he had set up a small bonfire surrounded by fairy lights. As you sat by the fire, Mingyu played a song on his guitar, one that he had written for you once again. The lyrics spoke of your summer together, your laughter, and your love. Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for having met Mingyu.

When you entered his home you got lost within each other, whispering small I love yous and sharing your feelings with each other.

By the end of the school year, when summer approached once again, you and Mingyu stood on the beach, hand in hand, looking out at the ocean. You knew that this summer was just the beginning of your journey together. Because true love always finds a way, no matter what obstacles life may present.