#❝ WILL IT EVER BE ENOUGH? → ( AH: threads. )

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another day another "applying the concept 'disposability' to 'someone withdraws from a personal relationship, & that wasn't signed off on by the other'" kill me

[rodolfoparras]

Don’t cry over spilled milk (or do)

Pairing: The Milkman x Male reader

Content warnings: 18+, anal fingering, Francis is one vocal fellow

Thinking about Francis Mosses who’s always been considered the perfect top, mostly because of his size- getting to bottom for the first time in his life.

Down on all four, with his ass in the air big fat cock uselessly hanging between his legs, and feeling himself flushing red from being in such a vulnerable position.

Besides the embarrassment brewing in his gut, he feels restless just laying like that , so used to being able to see what his partner is doing to him, now he can only rely on the feeling of your two thumbs prying his cheeks apart, and exposing the sensitive flesh to the cold air.

Goosebumps raise across his skin, a sharp breath escapes his lips and he can feel the impatience growing inside of him. “Come on come come on just hurry up!,” he hisses out, feeling even more vulnerable from the way your gaze seems to be burning into the pink flesh of his ass.

“Patience love” you say, hand firmly landing on his cheek, and as much as he’s embarrassed to say it, the action manages to silence him.

His dark eyes glare down at the bright white sheets, thumbs fiddling with the loose threads of it, trying to ignore how his face must be as red as the cheek you just slapped while you freely ogle at him.

“Anybody told you that you look pretty like this hm?” You say, thumbing curiously at his puckered rim, but not adding enough pressure to push your finger inside him.

Another wave of embarrassment washes over him, and he feel the urge to cuss you out with every curse word to exist in the English language but he knows but he knows by doing so you, you’ll further prolong this.

So he clears his throat, swallows down his pride before he mutters the word “No,”

A contended hum escapes your lips, your hot breath washing over his skin and this time he knows your face is just a hair away from his puckered rim. “Well you are,” you say, words as firm as your grip on him. “So so pretty”

And you’re so so close yet so far away.

He clears his throat again, swallows the last bit of pride in him before he utters the words “Please just please-“

“What is it sweetheart? What do you want hm?” You say, amusement clear in your voice. He can even feel the way the tip of your nose drags along his bottom half, doing everything and anything in your power to wind him up and he doesn’t know how much more he can take before he combust.

“Please just please fuck me!” He cries out, tears threatening to spill from his glassy eyes but all the air is suddenly punched out of his lungs when you slip the tip of your finger inside.

There’s a slight sting that comes with the stretch, body momentarily tensing as you carefully work your finger inside him”Oh! Oh oh fuck!”

“Francis? You okay?” You say, carefully massaging the pink flesh.

With each brush of your finger tip; the burning sensation dulls a bit and he feels himself relax back onto the sheets, a soft hum rolling off his tongue before he manages to properly answer you. “Good, it’s good,” he hums out, as he further relaxes into your touch.

Eventually the stinging sensation completely subsides and he starts feeling empty with only your fingertip inside. “More, please more,” he grunts out hips subconsciously buck up into your hand.

“Such a demanding little thing” you say to him as a chuckle escapes your lips but you don’t waste a second working your finger deeper inside of him til you’re buried knuckles deep, and tactically grazing the wall of nerves that sends sparks of pleasure through his body, specially down to his dick.”Mmph-God! Just- ah just like that”

This isn’t something he’s felt before, your touch feels ever so intoxicating especially when your calloused finger grazes the sensitive wall of nerves and before he realizes what he’s doing he finds himself begging for more, greedy as ever and drunk on pleasure.

It doesn’t take much before you fulfill his wish, pushing two fingers past his puckered rim, the stinging sensation briefly returning , as he gets used to the feeling of having two thick digits inside of him. “Come on sweetheart, you can take it yeah? I know you can” he hears you say, familiar word spilling past your lips and for a brief seconds he imagines the times he’d been the one to say it when he had someone under him.

Eager to prove himself, he starts fucking himself back onto your digits, something that starts off slow as he gets used to the stretch before he increases the pace. “Ugh fuck - fuck feels so so good yes yes yes!!”

By this point he doesn’t register when you work a third finger inside of him, only registering the fullness that comes with it and the way your hand slides between his legs, gently palming his ballsack

“Look at you love, haven’t even fucked you yet you’re already so close to cumming,” You say , puncturing every word with a thrust to his prostate while tugging at his hard and weeping dick.

Francis couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re taunting him, couldnt care less about how pathetic he looks like this, all he can care about is how every thrust - every stroke, has him inching closer to his orgasm.

“Please oh god please -“ He cries out, begs and pleads sounding something akin to a mantra, fingers practically digging holes into the mattress and the muscles in his thighs cramping up from how hard he’s fucking himself onto your hand.

It doesn’t take much before he feels his toes curl, pulse roaring in his ears as a wave of hot white pleasure washes over him.

“Ah ah God ‘m cumming ‘m cumming please-“ he cries out, feels himself spill all over the sheets and his thighs, body shaking as you continue to milk his cock.

“Stop- stop, please.” He finally slurs out, once there’s nothing but pathetic spurts of cum coming from his cock, hand blindly pushing you away from him before he finally slumps down onto the mattress.

Exhaustion creeps up his bones, eyelids feeling heavier than ever and all of a sudden he feels himself fading away in the dream land.

“Ah, ah ah,” he hears you say, the sound of your sharp voice snapping him awake. “We’re not done here,”

[changisworld]

Who ever said fours a crowd?

3Racha X reader

word count:6,400

Summary: You & your boyfriend, Changbin, have both just started dating & he brings up the idea of inviting his long time & your long time friend, Chris, into the bedroom to help teach him how to pleasure you just right, since he was still a bit 'new' to sex, but you all forgot Jisung, their roommate, is also home.

18+,MDNI! smut below the cut.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

->SMUT WARNINGS: mxmxmxf, mxm, frottage( mxm), mentions of past encounters, PIV, oral (f rec), manhandling(??), praise, protected sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms, size kink, anal play (m rec), anal(m rec) reader has a WAPPP, shy binnie, fingering(f rec), perv!Jisung, nipple/tit play, spit, Binnie is insecure at the start but reader doubles down & calms him down, mentions of a second round<3

->What better way to thank you all for 1K, 1.1K ANNND 1.2K followers than to do a 3racha smut? But seriously thank you so much, I haven't even been posting on here for 8 whole months & despite so many breaks in between you've all been so patient with me so thank you thank you thank you<3

You have been talking to Changbin for over an hour by this point in his shared apartment's living room, trying to figure out some boundaries, the reason for this being because you were both making out while a random movie was playing & you took it upon yourself to try take it a bit.. further, as your hand moves down to cup over his bulge, before the poor baby squirmed away from you, leaving you confused.

"It's not that I don't want it, I do! I just, I'm scared in case I won't be good at it, I've only slept with two people four times & I like you too much to disappoint you in case you don't like it" he murmurs, sounding embarrassed of what he had just said, avoiding to look at you sitting against the arm of the couch, playing with a loose thread attached to a couch cushion.

"Binnie, we don't need to do anything I'm more than happy to wait, but don't think of yourself like that, you're being silly, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? cmere" you respond, pulling him towards you anyways until he shuffles himself forwards on the couch so both of your crossed legs knees are touching.

“It’s not a you problem so no there’s nothing you can do to make me any more comfortable, i’m just too nervous, i feel like i need someone to show me how to do it or something, wanna be good for you” he whimpers as he pulls you into him, his back landing on the sitting part of the couch & you landing on top of him & you cup his puffy cheeks in your hands.

"Binnie I wouldn't judge you for it, I've felt your cock before & I know you'd be just fine, promise! Why n-" you cut yourself off when the front door to your boyfriends apartment opens, his best friend of years & a now close-ish friend of your own, Chan.

"Ah, heya you two, why do you both look like you've seen a ghost, what's up?" he says as he tosses his backpack on the floor beside the messy, cluttered shoe rack & it's only when he says this you process how shocked you must look to have seen him, Changbin looking a bit startled too.

"Hi chan, you just gave us a fri-" "Hyung, we were both just talking about something n I wanna ask you something!" Changbin says, cutting you off, turning his body on the couch to look behind him enough to properly look at who he's talking to, & Chan just nods as he walks over & slumps himself on the couch, next to changbin as he angles himself so he can look at you both at the same time before crossing his legs.

"Okay so, I wanted to know if you'd, help me with something Hyung" he goes on & if you looked like you'd seen a ghost before, it must look like you've been placed in the centre of a haunted house at this point. You open your mouth to speak but Chan beats you to it by telling him to continue.

"Okay, so, Ah I don't know how to ask!" he tries to joke to shake off his nerves, before continuing on. "Me & y/n were talking pretty much, & we both already know that with our schedule it's almost impossible to have time for people & also, sex? & I don't wanna disappoint y/n with my.. lack of experience, so to speak & I don't want my first experience with her to be better than just good, so I want you to help us" he blabs out, his voice sounding 'normal' on surface level, but you & chan know he is exploding with nerves.

Chan looks at him & then at you with surprise, not really knowing how to react, 'if i say yes straight away will I look desperate?' 'what if this is just a prank?' races through his head multiple times & words semi permanently die in his throat.

"The offer is only there if y/n is okay with it too though! If it's a no, we can forget I even asked you, don't feel pressured at all, just an idea." he says to chan before turning to you & he rests his hand on your knee, caressing it, which helps calm yourself down & he offers you his cute, soft smile.

"Binnie, we really don't need to do this, stop getting into your own head, I don't want this to negatively affect you in any way." you finally speak up & Chan nods his head at your reply.

"It won't, I wouldn't offer or suggest it if it would, we really don't need to do it, it's all in your hands" he responds softly & you can't help but feel like he really is being 100% truthful, & of course he is, & you come to the conclusion that if he is ready to do all of this just to pleasure you right, you can't really not help out.

"Okay Bin, I'll do it, Only if you're also okay with it Chan, obviously, but also if you're okay with it Binnie, like.. fully okay" you speak & Binnie leans forward enough to take your hands, caressing those instead. "Of course i'm fine with it! What are your thoughts Hyung? If you don't wanna do it, it's completely fine, we can forget it ever happened" Changbin blabs, the both of you looking at Chan, his eyes already glued on you both.

"Lemme have a bit of a think about it & I'll come back to you a lot about it, it's a big thing to just say yes to" he replies before he stands back up & leans over to purposely mess up your boyfriends curly hair, chuckling to himself before he makes his way to his room, the dim, purple LED lights in your vision as you watch him close the door behind him.

***

It’s been a day since you, Changbin & Chan had that talk & in all honesty, it’s all you could think about. ‘Have you embarrassed yourself by saying yes so quick?’ ‘will changbin think differently of me for saying yes?’ ‘what if chan changes his mind & i look like a freak for agreeing without him agreeing’ are the three main things that race through your mind, no matter how much you try forget about it, it’s just impossible!

The guys are doing something in the studio at the minute, & you decide to try deep clean your boyfriend’s bedroom to take your mind off it.

You strip the bed, of course finding a pair of your underwear.. or two inside his pillowcase, but you don’t bother to even question it, honestly quite flattered that he is so nervous to do anything with you physically but doesn’t think twice about stealing your used panties to jerk off to.

You re-fold his messy clothes that have just been thrown into the drawers, not too many noticeable creases in them to the point you feel the need to iron them, before plopping yourself back on the now fresh sheeted bed, a bit worn out from all the work you’ve just done.

As if it could be called perfect timing.. or worst timing, you hear Chan & Changbin get back to the apartment & you quickly realise they sound completely like normal, giggling about stuff you don’t understand & you take a sigh of relief, thinking that it won’t be as awkward if & when you have to face Chan again.

They part ways as Changbin returns to his bedroom, his eyes widening slightly at the tidied room & he is quick to pretty much leap on top of you, pecking you all over your cheeks before holding his upper half with his arm muscles as he looks down at you, a hand of his on each side of your head, laying on the bed.

"Chan spoke to me by the way, he said he will help us, are you still okay with all of this? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable y/n & you can seriously tell me if you don't wanna do it, or if you have any doubts whatsoever we can just tell him we changed our mind, If i have to force myself to man up, i'll do it." he murmurs, a bit shy in what he says, not usually being so forward with you unless it's just flirting, his chubby cheeks flushed red & his hair still a bit damp above you with sweat from the gym not too long prior.

You are honestly surprised at the fact Chan actually said yes, especially with how long it took for him to come to a conclusion, not that you were rushing him in any way, but you mostly thought that because you hadn't heard anything, it would have been a no.

"It's fine Binnie, I haven't changed my mind, but I still want you to be involved, I don't wanna fuck another man in front of you & you not doing anything." you suggest, but it's not really a 'suggestion' & it will only happen if he is involved, your mind is completely made up about it & Changbin is quick to nod at your words.

"I was planning on that anyway! I don't wanna be a complete cuck y/nnie I still need to be taught!" He pouts before lightly knocking on your shoulder in the same way you notice he loves to hit his members when he's happy or flustered before he nuzzles himself in your neck, not caring that he is pretty much inhaling your hair, the faint smell of the shampoo he also uses coating the strands.

"So uh, when does he.. wanna do it?" you ask, taking the time to rake your fingers through his curly & slightly frizzy hair & Changbin leans into your touch, tensing when your fingers hit his sweet spot.

"He said to just tell him when we want it, why, you want it that bad?" he teases you & you jokingly push him off of you & he can't help but giggle.

"it's not like that Bin! Just wanna see you & also it makes sense to kinda.. do it now-ish? because Jisung is gone so there's more privacy & Jisung is usually glued to Chan's hip if not Minho's!" you murmur, your ears burning red as you avoid his eyes with your own as you then flip onto your stomach & your legs sway slowly back & forth as you reach to play with Changbin's poodle hair.

"That's true, do you want me to get him like... now? I don't know how to go around this, should I let you shower or something first if you want?" Changbin suggests, pulling you into him, hugging you & you move your head to give him a peck on the nose before eskimo kissing him, which makes you both giggle.

"I showered earlier, I don't know what to do either, we can just go with the flow mkay? It's Chan who's joining us, not the other way around so we have the power in our hands, if we don't like it or change our minds i'm positive he won't mind." you respond & Changbin nods beneath you.

"You're right, I'ma go get him, mkay? It only goes as far as you want it to, so don't be scared to tell Chan no!" he says as he wriggles from you & blowing a kiss to you which you pretend to catch before he leaves the room & you can't help but chew the inside of your cheek with anxiety.

A couple of minutes later, Chan is trailing in behind your boyfriend & he is wearing a lot comfier of an outfit than what you usually see him wearing to the gym, going for some plain grey sweatpants & a tank top & his wide shoulders & his big biceps that are so deliciously toned & the veins running up his arms, which you don't fail to miss.

Chan shuts the bedroom door behind him & Chan takes it upon himself to sit beside you on the bed, before signalling Changbin to sit on the opposite side, you now being sandwiched between them both.

"Okay so uh.. are you completely okay with all of this y/n? Don't be scared of hurting my feelings because trust me you won't, we just want everything to be completely clear." Chan speaks out, his australian accent decorating his voice which you can't help but take a lot more interest in now given what is going to take place.

"I'm sure, don't stress it, Binnie wants help & he trusts you to do that & besides, you're an attractive guy so why would I turn it down" you chuckle & Chan returns it, not being able to stop himself from blushing.

"So uh, Bin, what is it that you want me to 'teach' you?" he looks past you & over to your boyfriend, who is playing with a loyalty ring he bought you when he first asked you to be his girlfriend with his fingers.

"Uh, kinda.. everything? But I still need to be involved, y/n wants that." he says, a chirp in his voice as his hand tightens around yours & you smile at Chan, confirming his words & Chan nods.

"Okay, so what are your guys.. limits? Yes, no's & maybe's?" Chan questions, his voice trying to sound nonchalant but it's not hard to pick up on the fact he is probably even more nervous than you or Changbin are.

"Uhh, I can't really think of anything, oh wait, no cumming inside or wear a condom" you speak & Chan nods again, his eyes widening slightly, not expecting to have been having the opportunity to fuck you tonight.

"Okay, Changbin, I have condoms in my left side second drawer, can you go get me a condom?" he asks as he moves his hand to rest on your thigh & Changbin hums a yes response before leaving & Chan takes it upon himself to lean in & kiss you the second you look at him & both of your lips fall into place pretty much instantly.

You're quick to notice how soft his lips are around yours as he takes control of it, you get so lost in it you barely register the fact that your boyfriend had already made his way back into the room.

"You guys look hot together, I don't know if i should be extremely turned on or jealous" Changbin remarks, his dimples poking in his cheeks as he sits behind you this time before pulling you up the bed so you're sitting between his spread legs with your back against his chest & Chan is quick to follow, setting himself facing you between your own legs.

"Maybe you just have a kink for it, can see the edge of your cock under the side of your sweatpants" Chan replies, chuckling. "I can feel it too" you respond & Changbin tuts at your teasing, hiding his face in your neck as he starts kissing the soft skin, the faint smell of body wash still scenting it.

"So I'm right in saying you've obviously kissed before so I don't need to teach you both that, why not you try touching her, Bin? Watch." Chan says in a soft voice as he grabs one of Changbins hands that are resting on your waist & brings it up to your left tit over your clothes & Chan takes a hold of your right one & they both feel & then find your nipples from above your shirt & they both quickly notice you've not put a bra on & Chan subconsciously bites hit bottom lip, buzzing at the thought.

"Try twisting it like this, not too much but have a firm grip on it, rub your thumb over the bud, you can lick your fingers too, makes it nice n wet, can I lift your shirt y/n?" Chan asks, his other hand running along the hem of your... Changbin's shirt that you've stolen for yourself & you nod at his request.

"Bin, can you take it off for us?" he chirps, looking at the man behind you, who is looking not back at him, but instead down at Chan's fingers, following not only hi words but mirroring his actions, almost in a daze before he snaps out of it at the sudden question & nods his head rapidly & you raise your arms up to help your boyfriend strip you.

Your nipples stiffen up at the feel of the air around you all but you don't ponder on it as their fingers resume their place on your tits, & you melt into the touch as you lean further into Changbin, soaking yourself in the feeling, finding comfort in the rapid heart beats coming from his chest.

"Gonna go further now, alright?" chan speaks up & you nod your head, your eyes not bothering to open your eyes & you can feel your boyfriend nodding behind you, his fingers not stopping their actions on your hard bud.

Chan licks his fingers before bringing it back to your nipple before bringing his other hand to your skin, slowly dragging it down your naked stomach & waist, before bringing his hand to the waistband of your baggy shorts & Changbin takes the time to pat you on the cheek & when you open your eyes, Chan is looking up at you, nonverbally asking you if he can continue/

"Go on, please" you murmur as you spread your legs that tiny bit extra & Chan smirks up at you both before he makes quick work of removing your shorts completely, now leaving you completely nude now since you also so happen to have chose to not wear underwear & your legs quiver at the cold hair hitting your core, already dripping at this point, & Chan is quick to tell you how wet you are.

"Bin, come sit around here" Chan speaks & Changbin lets out a small whimper as he forces himself to detach himself from your nipple, which in his humble opinion, is probably the prettiest thing he has ever seen that isn't your face, but his opinion is quick to change when he crawls to sit himself down next to his friend as you help give them more room by shuffling upwards just enough so you can lay your head on the pillows.

You try to shut your legs, feeling awkward & shy at the two men staring at your naked cunt, clenching around nothing but Chan is quick to stop you from shutting them, holding them open.

"Keep em open pretty, look how wet you are, you're lucky Bin, gonna show you how to touch her & eat her, okay?" Chan speaks to Bin & when your eyes land on your boyfriend, you can tell how nervous he is & when he rests his hand on your knee, you stretch your arm to hold onto his.

"Speak Bin, just relax, it's just us, you need to focus if you wanna learn" he doubles down, tapping his friends arm, snapping him out of whatever trance he's in.

"Can't help but daydream, you're to pretty." not talking directly to Chan, but you instead & you hide your face in your arm.

"I know, like I just said you're real lucky, watch my hand mkay? You wanna tease a bit first, makes it more interesting." chan chirps as his fingers finish trailing down your skin, now landing on your outer lips of your cunt before he starts slowly spreading your wetness, not as if you'd even need it anyways since you're beyond gushing anyway & the sensation of his slightly calloused fingers dragging across your pussy but you physically twitch when his fingers finally directly land on your clit.

"Here's where the clit is, it's the easiest way to make a girl cum so make sure you actually remember where it is & find out, it's uncomfortable for the girl if you rub next to it, but don't do it too rough or hard because it's really sensitive, like this." Chan further continues as he starts visibly demonstrating as he speaks, his index & middle finger rubbing slow circles on your clit, making you whimper & both of their eyes shoot up to you at the sound, both of their cocks getting even harder if it was possible.

"You can tell if they actually feel good by their reactions, you can see her pussy clenching around nothing, do you know how to finger a girl Bin?" he asks, not bothering to let his eyes become unglued from your pussy, his fingers already drenched in your wetness.

"I've watched tutorials on pornhub & I've done it with the very few fucks i've had, i know how to" he stutters as he feels the need to bring his own fingers to your pussy, it looking far too inviting for him to keep his paws off & you instantly feel as if your skin is on fire.

Chan takes the opportunity to remove his fingers from your clit & you let out a whimper at the loss of contact as your hips try chase his fingers but it's short lived as your boyfriend's fingers take their place & start working at their own pace, different but not bad.

His fingers are a bit more clumsy than Chans despite him concentrating that tiny bit extra but your butterflies are intensified a billion times more by knowing it's him touching you & you can't stop yourself from looking down to look at the pretty boy in front of you playing with you like this & without him looking away from you, he leans down just enough so he can perfectly let a glob of spit land on your clit & you jolt.

"Binnie, want your tongue." you mumble, trying to keep your composure, nibbling on your bottom lip. "Wanna taste you" he replies, sounding more dazed than you are before he is moving his hand away from you & you quickly sit up & start tugging at his shirt & he quickly takes the hint & takes it off & you flop yourself backwards again as Changbin lays down between your legs, his face just centimetres away from your pussy, your wetness already causing a wet patch on the bedsheets.

Chan takes it upon himself to crawl up your frame & sits on the back of his knees before pinching a nipple with his right hand as he brings his left hand down to your cunt, pulling the skin upwards, exposing your already swollen clit just that tiny bit extra to help his friend.

Changbin takes a moment or two to just simply admire how gorgeous your pussy really is, & he has to mentally slap himself because of how long he's put off sex because of his own nerves, not knowing that literal perfection was so close to him.

Before he can doubt himself, he lets his lips suction onto your pudgy clit as he starts swirling his tongue around it & you instantly doubt the claim that he's bad at sex because he is acting like a natural.

"Fuck Bin, tongue is good" you whimper, your voice shaky as he slurps up your juices along with the pool of spit that's uncontrollably rolling off his tongue & your fingers weave into his curly hair.

"He making you feel good, babe?" Chan questions as he brushes the now damp hair from your face & he looks down at you with a cheeky smile, but you're too out of it to snap back at him, instead, you look down at his sweatpants that he's still wearing & you can easily see the huge boner he's sporting & you can't stop yourself from reaching to start pawing at them, & thankfully he takes the hint.

Chan takes his sweatpants off, leaving him in just his boxers. "Off cha, th-those too" you fight the words through your moans & but he does as you say & takes off his tank top too while he's at it, now totally naked too but instead of joining you both back on the bed, Chan is walking over to the bedroom door & opening it, & much to your shock, but not to chan or changbins, Jisung is standing right outside the door with his leaky cock in his hand, now frozen in place.

"I thought I heard you whining outside, we're busy & I thought you were with Leeknow?" Chan speaks, a complete monotone voice, almost as if he's not standing completely naked with his heavy, veiny cock in his hand.

"W-wanted to j-just listen, can I join? s-sounds pretty." he murmurs, his big boba eyes darting from you, to chan & then to changbin, just to repeat the motion over again & Changbin has detached his pretty lip from your clit, breaking the suction seal on your pussy before rubbing your clit with his fingers again, the feeling more intense with how sensitive his tongue has made it as you start grinding against him, unable to even think of a response to give Jisung.

"It's not my choice, it's y/nnies, but I don't think she's able to talk, I'm teaching Bin well, aren't I?" Chan asks, hinting a response for Bin & he let's himself enter not one but two fingers into your cunt before quickly setting a decent pace, his other hand's thumb flicking your clit at the same pace as best as he can.

"So well hyung, ask y/n it's her who to ask" Changbin chirps, his voice flushed out as he slows down the grinding on the mattress as he looks at the doorway & Jisung fixates his eyes on you, teary.

"Just c-come in -fuck bin, come in Jisung" you cry out & Jisung pretty much gallops into the room, past his naked friend & he pretty much hops onto the bed as he shakes his clothes off & chan makes quick work of following him, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Changbin doesn't bother to ponder on the fact that Jisung is now here, instead completely focused on the way you're clenching around his chubby fingers, feeling your orgasm bubble up, it feeling different to when you're just masterbating on your own.

"Bin, think i-ima cum, so goodd" you squeak as you grip onto Jisungs arm beside you without thinking & Changbin's ego gets boosted by the words you spit out & he takes the chance to suckle back on your clit again, making sure to pull on the pudge of it to get better access, just like what Chan did & your legs convulse around his head as you try to force yourself to keep them open, but Jisung takes it upon himself to straddle you with his back facing you, holding your legs open, also giving himself a perfect view of his friends tongue & lips engulfing your pussy.

"Cum for us babe, if it feels good just let go" Chan remarks & you look up at him with glossy eyes, dazed & fucked out as you let out a squeal as you bubble over, your orgasm flushing throughout your entire body as your toes curl around him & your fingers clench so hard around his fingers he's force to pull them out, a white cream ring around the base of his fingers.

Jisung reaches down to grab at Changbin's wrist before pulling the fingers that just fucked you up to his mouth before licking your own orgasm off of them, groaning at the taste, his drool coating his fingers & he takes it upon himself to tease you all by gagging on his fingers but to not really anyones surprise, Changbin just looks up at him in awe, his fingers finally slowing down on your clit, letting you come down from your orgasm, which he learned to do from porn.

"Did so well for us y/nnie, do you wanna keep going? We can stop here if you're too worn out we can do this another day if it's too much, no stress." Chan speaks out as he pulls Jisung off of you & onto the place on the bed he just was, Jisung laying next to you now & he turns his head to give you a smile, which you mirror.

"Wanna keep going, want you Bin." you make grabby hands & Bin crawls up your frame to kiss you & that's when you feel that he still has his sweatpants on & he doesn't even need to be asked before he's taking them off along with his boxers, his thick cock hitting against his toned tummy, making you drool.

"Want to feel you so bad Bin, please binnie." you murmur as he holds himself above you before he leans down to kiss you, but you're both interrupted by the sounds of Jisung & Chan moaning beside you & when you turn to look, Chan has his own & Jisungs cock wrapped in his palms as they grind against each other, using their own precum as lube & with how wet their cocks are, they could give you a run for your money & you'd be lying if you said you aren't even more turned on now, Jisungs legs wrapped around Chans ripped frame as Chans thick cock almost hides Jisungs with the size difference as their sensitive tips bash & glide against one anothers.

You can feel Changbin freeze up a bit when you reach down to grip his cock with your hand when you try align it with your cunt & you reach to caress his cheek. "It's alright Binnie, you've already made me cum you're good!" you pretty much cheer, your voice soft & Chan can't help but overhear it & he has a bright idea.

"I'll guide you Bin, Jisung you're gonna help us, mkay?" Chan asks & Jisung already knows where it's going & he nods with stars in his eyes as he flips around so he's on his knees before dropping from his hands so he's arched, his already stretched hole on display for Chan & Changbin to see & you can't help but feel a bit left out that you can't see it from where you're laying down.

Changbin & you look over at the sight, honestly extremely surprised at how... comfortable they are to do this with one another.

"Are we missing something? Do you guys hook up & none of us knew this?" you giggle & Jisung lets out a pouty whine, turning his face away from you to avoid your gazes.

"There's nothing wrong with having fun on our own, like Changbin's said, being idols give us a horribly busy schedule!" he whips back at you as he makes quick work of grabbing the condom that Changbin collected earlier from the floor & he rips open the packet before rolling the condom onto his cock.

"it's easy Bin, promise. Everyone obviously has a G-spot & you need to try find it, it's more spongey but if you've felt it with your fingers, your cock will definitely reach it so don't stress, go in slow & then pick up the pace, & don't just have messy thrusts you gotta keep a rhythm" Chan instructs as he takes his own cock in his hand & aligns it up with Jisungs already lubed hole, from when he was actually prepping himself just before he started jerking off outside the door.

Changbin stumbles with his hands for a minute before he copies his hyung in the room, not only his heart but also your heart racing as he decides to beat Chan to the chase & he pushes himself inside you, the width of his cock a huge stretch to just his fingers, & Changbin stalls inside you half way, partly to let you adjust but also to stop himself from cumming on the spot with how tight & warm you are, the way you're clenching around him is suffocating in the best way possible.

Jisung looks at the reaction on your face & he can't wait any longer as he then starts shaking his ass on his dick, trying to persuade his hyung to just give him what he wants & Chan can't hold himself back any longer & slides himself in quite quickly, knowing Jisung loves the painful but pleasurable stretch from the roughness & he lets out a choked noise that makes you gush.

"Y-you're so tight jagi, oh my- oh my god" Changbin squeaks, his eyes struggling to not roll to the back of his head & you look up at him with love hearts in your eyes, your brain malfunctioning as you reach to hold onto his biceps that you love so much, the choked gurgles of Jisungs whines & squeals filling the room.

Changbin forces himself to piece his mind together again just enough to start fucking into you at a good pace & you're just so full you swear you can feel him coming out of your throat almost. "S-so big Bi-binnie, doing so good" you cry out & by this point you've genuinely forgot that your boyfriends two closest friends are literally fucking beside you & you won't be surprised if you dismiss the huge puddle of spit on the bedsheets as your own later.

Chan reaches down to start jerking off Jisung at the same pace as his cock is thrusting into him & literally just after a couple of pumps of his cock, he is cumming all over Changbin's bedsheets with a wail as he spasms & shakes beneath Chan, but he doesn't let up.

Chan takes a second to look at you & Changbin & deems his work as done in terms of getting him comfortable to fuck you, & he can tell you both need no more help & he scoops up Jisung & carries him by the inside of his knees, his back touching his chest as he takes them both out of the room to make way to whatever next surface he can fuck Jisung against, leaving just you & Binnie together, not that you could be paid to care at this point.

"Y-you're so pre-beautiful, so good" he babbles above you as he flops forward enough to kiss you, tongues wrapping around one another as he hits that gummy spot his fingers were rubbing against earlier & your whines jump up an octowave.

"Shit bin, wa-gonna cum, pl-please" you cry as you break the kiss to try catch a breath or two but you hold your breath in shock & happiness at Changbin's response.

"Cum, p-please, I- i love you jagi, ss-so much, so good" he gibbers as he brings his hand down to your clit again, rubbing more messy circles on your clit & your toes start curling but you force yourself to hold back your orgasm for the time being, as tense as a rock beneath him as squelching noises fill the room, his cock almost completely slipping out every time he retracts himself, your hand reaching own each time he does so just to make sure you can quickly slide him back into his probably new favourite place if it happened.

"I- love you too bin, prett-prettiest boy" you whimper & at those words matched with you then pulling his head from your neck once he nested it there & kiss him again with your hands cupping his chubby cheeks & he lets out a small squeal as he is cumming before he can warn you & at the feeling of him filling you up & the way he pulsates in you, your own orgasm hits you too & he accidentally bites down on it & you moan that extra bit louder at the feeling.

You both come down from your orgasm, panting & huffing on top of one another, only the sounds of Jisung being fucked by Chan just down the hallway, but your mind is too all over the place.

"I me-meant what I said by the way, sorry it took my friend to help me fuck you." he murmurs, his voice sounding raspy but chirpy.

"I meant it too, I looooveee you! & don't stress it, it was hot anyways." you emphasis it further by pecking him all over his face, his cute dimples plastered on his cheeks as he gets shy.

"I can still hear Chan & Jisung fucking, if you want we can go join them, since you think it's hot" he half teases, but you can tell he isn't really joking. "you'll need to climb off me if you want to go, hurry before Jisung is fully spent!" you snap back & you can feel his cock that was just starting to go limp inside you chub back up before he's pulling out as he picks you up & pretty much sprints to what turns out to be the living room & Jisung on his knees sucking Chan off & you're quick to land on your knees beside Jisung, poking your head in to get a taste as Changbin sits beside chan a Jisung switches places with you.

->I really don't think I like this im afraid</3 but I could potentially do a part two but it won't be until after kinktober & after i finish my part two to my felix smut so please be patient mwah x

->Taglist & anon list is open! @jisungml

[murdrdocs]

thinking abt peacekeeper!snow needing asking you to sit on his face bc he heard abt it in the barracks but he never heard abt it in the capitol and now he cant stop thinking abt it and then he gets real messy and desperate w it🫠

he fiddles with his thumbs before asking you. his head ducked, a shyness he hasn't felt in a while clouding over his being. he picks at his hangnails, and instead picks at the loose threads of his uniform whenever you slap his hands away from their assault.

"your hands are pretty as they are, don't mess with them," you chastise easily, a teasing smirk woven in your words as you turn your head away from him. with your back facing him, you don't see him take a step towards you.

you jump when his hands press against your waist, then you melt back against his chest when he implants a kiss to your head. coriolanus opens his mouth to ask you, then he closes it and doubts himself, and then he remembers the stories from the other peacekeepers in the barracks.

the way they described it all. the girl above them using their mouth like that, in a way they didn't even know they would like. how she writhed and cried out as she ground her hips along their faces. usually, such crass talk would make coriolanus uncomfortable. but then, with the picture of you in mind, he couldn't stop listening. he filled in the images of you with their words, grateful that the other men would begin their recounts of their lewd endeavors when coriolanus was already tucked in bed with a blanket covering his crotch.

just the thought of bringing his imagination to reality makes him voice the idea to you. and it should be embarrassing how delighted he gets when you agree.

and it's better than coriolanus could imagine. never would he think he would enjoy intimate activities to be so messy, but he figures that he simply enjoys stripping away your own pristine and civilized nature and instead turning you into this: a pretty thing sat above him, cunt flushed against his mouth as you work yourself back and forth. your hands flail around helplessly with nothing to grab onto, coriolanus' curly locks that you hadn't even known to ever exist gone. instead, you dig your nails into his shoulders, the newly toned and newly tanned expanses of them providing enough stability for you to ground yourself. for your previously guttural groans of frustration to melt into pretty moans of pleasure.

your clit brushes against his nose with your movements and eventually, coriolanus realizes what the slight probe does for you. he grips your ass cheeks with his nails, both hands cupping as much of the flesh between his palms as he can, and he takes over. he brings you as tight against his mouth as he can, and works his tongue as well as he can against you. he moves his head, too, just enough to provide the friction from the pointy tip of his nose against the searching sensitive bud. all the while, his bright blue eyes never part from your frame. he refuses to look away for even a second. he refuses to blink, and when you look down, he has tears of desperation leaking down his face, only adding to the mess.

he wants to speak to you, to encourage you and praise you like you deserve. but his mouth is occupied, and he likes it like this, with you spewing out disjointed words that often don't make any sense.

"coryo, it's s'good. i – ah – you're so good at this, coryo. 'm so close. please, make me cum, coryo. i'll do whatever you want me to, just please don't stop."

and when you do cum around his tongue, wet and messy and oh so sweet, coriolanus commits the entire ordeal to memory, storing it somewhere deep where he'll never share the details with anyone else.

you're his to keep. only his.

[lishens]

ʚɞ ⁺ ˖ ⸝⸝ ꒰⠀ NOT A GENTLEMAN ⠀꒱

Zhongli lets her break away from the embrace, despite how the dragon in him wants to pull her back until she is a part of his very being — until she is a part of his soul that no one will be able to tell where she begins and where he ends.

alternate universe — canon divergence. established relationship. fem!reader is a virgin. slight mean dom!zhongli. bits and pieces of dragon!zhongli. cunnilingus. penetration. marking. possessiveness. dubious consent at some parts. breeding. mating press. praise. dacryphilia.

“Are you going home early?”

The question makes her head turn, looking at Xiangling who is now just opening Wanmin Restaurant for dinner.

“Mhm,” her head nods, giving Guoba a wave from where he is standing before the stove. “I have plans to meet someone—” She can barely finish speaking before Xiangling leans in close to her face, way too close that she is beginning to get cross-eyed.

“Is this your lover? The one you’ve been meeting for months now?!” Her friend exclaims, far too loudly, that they draw amused looks from the passing strangers. Her hands reach to cover Xiangling’s mouth, making shushing noises while willing the flush in her cheeks to go away. Still, she manages to nod. It seems that her shame is enough of a deterrent that her friend only manages to squeal — as quietly as someone like Xiangling can. “Don’t let me keep you here! Go! Shoo! Meet your sweetheart!”

Sweetheart, huh? That seems far too simple for what is going on between herself and Zhongli.

For someone who works at a funeral parlour, he is such a sweet gentleman. Arguably, the standard of what a man should be. Though, she may be a bit biased in that regard, seeing him through rose-coloured lenses and all. The man may be absent minded at times, often forgetting his wallet and all, but he never fails to treat everyone with kindness and respect — even when they are unworthy of it.

Oh, she just loves him.

“Mora for your thoughts?” A question comes from behind her, spine freezing in surprise before it relaxes once she recognises the voice. She turns to wrap her arms around his midsection, giving Zhongli an embrace.

Ah, this is where she belongs, right in his arms.

“My thoughts were just filled with you.”

Unbeknownst to his darling, amber-coloured irises darken to a deep set of honey upon hearing her words. The Geo Archon wraps his arms around the delicate set of shoulders to pull her closer to his embrace, burying his nose to the crown of her head.

The sigh of satisfaction is actually a pleased rumble from the depths of his throat, his inner dragon delighted at the fact that his sweetheart knows where belongs.

With him.

His breath meets the lobe of her ear and draconic pupils immediately narrow in on the dangling earring in his colours. It had been his gift for Qixi, during the courting stage of their relationship. Zhongli wanted something subtle but obvious to those who know where to look. The gemstone is a cor lapis, probably one of the finest ones that he had to bribe Cloud Retainer to bring him; the silk threads that make up the ribbon are from Mountain Shaper’s territory, requested with an exchange of several tea gatherings.

The adepti who walk through the city all look at him with an expression torn between judgement and amusement upon catching sight of the jewellery on his sweetheart, knowing immediately who the gift-giver is.

In order to avoid theft, those that belong to him should be marked as such. It is only the way of things, the way of the world — the way of the gods.

Zhongli lets her break away from the embrace, despite how the dragon in him wants to pull her back until she is a part of his very being — until she is a part of his soul that no one will be able to tell where she begins and where he ends.

He lets her chatter all the way back home, entertaining all the questions she has about the most random of things. 

All the while, his smile is ever-present just for her.

It only falters when she pauses before the corner that separates his home from hers. Zhongli lives on the road just ahead, while she lives right inside the alley. His brows furrow, reaching a gloved hand to cup her cheek. “Are you not feeling well?”

He watches as her eyes widen with a hint of amusement, endeared when she shakes her head furiously.

“I just,” she trails off, biting on her bottom lip in a fit of anxiousness. The plush brim pulled taut by her teeth, and that will not just do. His tongue clicks sharply against the roof of his mouth, reaching with a thumb to press firmly on her chin in a wordless demand to relax. She does, like the obedient little darling that she is, and his hand falls away. “I don’t want to go home just yet.” The words come as a whisper, but to his ears, it sounds as loud as a scream.

Abruptly, his hand darts to hold her by the jaw. Thumb and index finger pressing firmly on the sides to tilt her upwards and force her eyes to meet his darkened ones.

“Darling,” he coos, sounding far too sinister for the gentleman persona he put up for her sake but Zhongli cannot help it. “If you say something like that, then a man might interpret it as you wanting to sleep with him.” He wants her to say yes, to nod, or to even avert her gaze bashfully.

She does none of those things, looking at him instead with pupils blown wide in surprise.

Zhongli has to swallow down the disappointment, replacing it with a charming smile that makes his eyes curl into crescents. A facade to not let her see the swirling darkness underneath. “I jest, my love. You know that all I want is to take good care of you.”

After all, they have been dating for so long, and there will be many more opportunities that will rise in the future.

Laying in his bed, she stares at the wooden panels of the ceiling and barely muffles a sigh. He really did not do anything, not even an “accidental” touch. In fact, Zhongli treated her very politely. Very politely that even someone as inexperienced as her felt very frustrated.

It should be a crime for someone to be that much of a gentleman, she thinks while turning to look at him sleeping soundly beside her.

A moment of impulsiveness makes her reach for his hand, holding it between her shaking fingers. She hesitates, not wanting to do this without his full consent. But— it is not like he will reject her, right? Zhongli loves her, she knows and feels that much. Maybe even too much sometimes, a part of her whispers. Hesitantly, she brings his hand between her thighs and rolls her hips against his palm. It feels weird, but a good kind of weird, one that makes her shiver all over and let out all of these breathless noises with eyes closed to further savour the sensation.

“What are you doing with my hand?” A question echoes in her ear out of nowhere, eyes snapping wide open only to meet his gaze.

Her breath gets caught in her throat, “I thought you were asleep.” It is a weak argument, she knows that much.

“Silly girl, I was awake. How could I sleep when you’re right beside me?” Zhongli smiles, soft and sweet as always, but she feels unnerved. How can he smile so sweetly after what she did? There is an odd look in his eyes, something dark and predatory. It makes her feel like she is prey. He leans in and presses a kiss to her lips, his tongue following soon after in the depths of her mouth.

“I was planning on being kind to you,” he murmurs, lips drifting past her lips and down the line of her jaw until Zhongli grants a particularly harsh suck on the column of her neck. “Take care of you, love you like those leads in the operas you listen to. But no, you just had to test me.” With those words, his palm slips inside the waistband of her underwear to rub her clit in tight circles.

“How can I ever say no to willing prey that is already dripping wet?”

Dexterous fingers grip the fabric of her underwear, giving it a sharp yank until the sound of cloth tearing echoes in the silence of his bedroom. There is heat in his spine, mortal teeth elongating to sharp fangs in his maw at the scent that wafts through the air.

Sweet, and so utterly decadent. The finest meal in all of Teyvat.

“Hush, little dove,” he croons to her collarbone. “It made no sense for you to keep wearing that thing when you are already soaking through it, hm?”

The shame that floods her cheeks, the eyes that widen in surprise at his words, all of it are like pieces of her that Zhongli greedily takes in. Truly, she is the jewel of his hoard. Her protests are cut off by his hands, turning and twisting her figure until she is nearly folded in half. Like this, the pretty sight of her pussy is in full view of his narrowed gaze. “I am going to give this pretty girl a lot of love, okay?” The whisper comes breathless on her stiff nub, tongue darting out to give it a mean flick.

Not even Celestia can take his head away from between her thighs.

The wet muscle traces the outline of her slit, taking great delight at how more of her arousal comes dripping out in response despite her protests. How adorable, as if she was not rutting her cunt on his palm earlier. His eyes dart to peer at her panting figure, her chest heaving with soft sobs that sound like music to his ears.

Her eyes are tightly shut— and that will not just do.

A sharp click of the tongue, talons sinking into the supple flesh of her thigh. Zhongli no longer cares if his adeptal form is in full view. “Look at me,” he growls, the pointed ends of his teeth nibbling on her clit just to see her squirm.

“Look at me.”

Teary-eyed and breathless, her lashes flutter to peer at Zhongli. But what she sees is Rex Lapis instead, the realisation makes her folds spasm around nothing, clenching tight and dripping another thick glob of arousal down the silken sheets.

It should scare her, the knowledge that her lover is the Archon of Liyue, but it only arouses her further.

And Zhongli seems to reach the same conclusion, lips curving to form a wicked grin at her reaction. “Dirty girl,” he coos right to her pussy, draconic tongue darting out to flatten against the entire slit until her thighs shake from the pressure. “You like this.” The accusation falls and she finds herself unable to deny it, not when the god himself can see how much wetter it has made her.

“Y-You’re Rex Lapis,” she states the obvious in a shaky voice, hiccuping with every pass of his tongue on her sensitive flesh. Her hips nearly fly off the bed when the wet muscle slides inside, exploring every crevice of the tight passage, if not for his iron-clad grip on her frame.

The only response she receives is a loud slurp that makes her cheeks burn with shame, and a wicked laugh as the Archon himself rises to his full height. “Stating the obvious now, pretty girl?” Rex Lapis asks, pressing on the underside of her thighs until her legs are nearly flat above her chest. A mating press, she thinks, vaguely remembering the position from one of the spring books she used to giggle over under the bridge. The position is termed as such due to how many adepti seem fond of using it when mating with their soul-hearts, it is said to increase the chances of conceiving — not that fertility is an issue. Adeptal creatures are a hundred times more fertile than regular humans, it only takes one mating dance before their soul-heart conceives after all. Her eyes widen, limbs tensing as if to push Rex Lapis off once she remembers Yanfei’s drunken ramble on the night she met Zhongli for the first time.

Rex Lapis is not Rex Lapis if he is slower than a mortal. In a flash, she finds herself folded in half with an ebony hand holding her by the neck. The threat of his claws seem to pale in comparison to the threat of his snarl.

“You will not deny me.”

With those words, her entire worldview shatters at the brutal plunge his monstrous length makes inside her core. It burns, it hurts — it feels good.

Time feels both too slow and too fast like this, intimately connected to Rex Lapis as she is. Every thrust scrapes her raw, makes her feel every nerve ending come alive. At the same time, it all feels like a blur.

She never thought that her Zhongli can be so mean.

But this is Rex Lapis, the Archon of Geo, the God of Liyue. This is the dragon who rained mountains on the world just to win the Archon Wars. This is the monster who reigns supreme above all other monsters. This is the Prime of the Adepti for a reason.

Distantly, she can hear herself weeping. It pales in comparison to the sound of his delighted exhalations, the whispered praises. “Little love, my sunshine … You take me so good, so warm— s-so tight for me … You are perfect … The only one for me, my one and only.” She comes back to herself slowly, only to feel herself blanking out. The sound of their combined fluids squelching in the air is enough to make her stomach tighten, walls spasming around the thick cock that seems to twitch with every deep press that Rex Lapis makes and stirs her insides.

Lungs desperate for air, she can only whimper when Rex Lapis parts her thighs to gaze at where the two of them are connected with greed in his gaze.

“We have all day, my darling,” he murmurs with a sharp jerk of his hips that makes her squeal. “We have all of today, tomorrow, and the many days after to make sure you are full of me.”

“Only me.”

© lishens ( 2024 ): do not claim, modify, copy or repost my works without permission. minors do not interact.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE BLUE OF THE SKY MUST HAVE BEEN MY IMAGINATION ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can’t take your grief away. but on days when you feel as if it’s swallowing you whole, pulling you underwater, he’ll be there to reach a hand out.

word count; 10.9k 

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (gn prns are used, but gojo calls you sweet girl and princess), depictions of grief/allusions to death (reader mourns their dead best friend), hurt/comfort (heavy on both), fluffy towards the end, satoru is a good partner <3, stsg subtext if you squint, switching povs, reader is implied to be a non-sorcerer!!

a/n; i’ve always loved the idea of gojo being with a reader who also lost their best friend/other half, so this is just me playing around with that concept :3 losing a soulmate and finding a new one through the loss of that thread must feel really meaningful, right? + i’m also dedicating this piece to @neptuneblue my precious bday girl <33 i added an extra dose of devotion, flower symbolism and greek mytho refs just for you!! (pretty dividers by @/saradika-graphics <33)

a pang of sorrow.

as your consciousness begins to unfurl, cruelly torn apart from the realm of dreams, the sensation hits you like a hammer to a nail. your eyes flutter open, and your muddled mind adjusts to the soft light dyeing your bedroom a mellow gold — patches of sunlight splattering on the bed and warming up your skin, illuminating your features. gentle and soothing.

almost as if trying to coax you back to sleep; trying to protect you from something you don’t quite understand. just close your eyes, your body whispers, your mind shushes. don’t think about anything at all. 

but you don’t listen. 

part of you knows it’s a mistake. trying to identify the source of your sadness usually only makes your heart feel more tangled up — but you get the sense that this particular sorrow is one you should never, ever let go of. so you rest against the mattress, focus on the rise and fall of your chest, and simply feel it out. 

it’s a strange sensation. blooming like a flower, in the back of your brain, expanding at an alarming rate — seeping into your bloodstream, soaking the sheets beneath you with something dark and gritty, something that sends shivers down your spine. an acute sensation that something is wrong. 

that something has been wrong. for a very long time.

(and then it hits you.)

— ah.

an intake of breath. the open air has been warmed up by caring sunrays, bouncing off the glass of the windows. it tastes like dust and daydreams.

it’s today, isn’t it?

the flower in the back of your brain keeps unfurling, leaving you with a certain ache you can’t get rid of. a stain you can never, ever rinse away — and the sun’s comforting embrace does nothing to quell its weight.

what a shame, you think, gazing out at the blue of the sky. the weather is so lovely today…

something tickles your cheek. it snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts; and this time, you don’t need to feel it out to know what it is. you’re already well aware. your brain knows, your body, every string of your heartbeat.

a strand of white hair. ghosting over your cheek, causing you to stir. 

two big arms are looped around your midriff, heavy and slumbering, practically immovable. you’ve tried to peel them off more times than you can count, but they just won’t budge — if anything, that only makes him cling to you tighter. subconsciously or otherwise. 

(you suspect it’s the latter, on most days.)

as always, you’re pressed up against him, close as can be. completely enveloped by his scent and body warmth, strawberries and stardust, cocooned in the safety his touch brings you — like a big, weighted blanket. or maybe more like a clingy dog.

and, despite everything… it manages to cheer you up a little. doing what the delicate caress of sunlight couldn’t. just feeling him close is enough for the corners of your lips to curl up, a warmth trying to take root in your hollowed out chest; feeling his heart beat against your own, in steady motions.

satoru. your very own personal sun.

he’s admittedly cute like this, soft little breaths slipping from his parted lips, quiet snores that he’d deny if you ever brought them up — his jaw resting contentedly on the top of your head. it’s sweet. he’s sweet. but the feeling of his hair tickling your skin is a little insufferable.

insufferable, but still somehow so endearing. 

(you’ll probably always find him endearing, no matter what he does. maybe you should feel embarrassed.)

when you crane your neck, glancing up at the man in question — your breath hitches. halts, in the back of your throat. afraid to come too close. 

satoru is always pretty, but there’s something so serene about the way he looks in the morning. before he has a chance to wake up, cover up, make himself seem bigger than he is. right now, he looks so unguarded; so sleepy and pretty and comfortable. specks of sunlight scatter across that pretty face of his, like little freckles, caressing his skin with a heavenly glow. 

it really is such a shame. the sun is shining brightly, waving hello to the newly-awakened city, and your own personal sun is right by your side. snuggled up with you, and looking prettier than ever. 

but neither of those blessings are enough to change the inevitability of what day it is, today. you feel a little bad; but you know what you have to do. 

just to see the limitations, you squirm away — or try to. you don’t even move an inch. satoru’s got you trapped, caged in by his strong arms, like he’s making sure to protect you even in his dreams. a big, overprotective bear.

wanting not to rouse him from his peaceful slumber, you can’t bring yourself to make much of an effort, either. your hands travel down to the expanse of his arms, wrapped around your midriff, gentle and light as you try to tug them off. but he won’t relent so easily — the moment you succeed even slightly, those insistent arms fall back in position. only trapping you further. 

after your fifth attempt bears no fruit, satoru lets out a low groan; shifting closer, and hugging you just a little tighter. muttering under his breath.

so you resort to a different tactic.

when you finally get a proper look at him, craning your neck as far as you can, your eyes soften. his expression makes your heart melt; sleepy and snug, and just a tad annoyed. because of your numerous escape attempts, no doubt. 

he’s so beautiful it hurts. just a little, just to look at him, just to map out every contour of his angelic face. 

so you feel a little guilty. you really don’t want to wake him up, when he so rarely gets to sleep in like this — and he’s been working so hard, lately. doing his usual sorcerer thing, that he never lets you know too much about. the guilt seeps into your bones, growing deeper with every second spent etching his soft expression into your memory, knowing just how tired he must be.

it’s not like you really have a choice, though.

leaning closer, so close you can hear his heartbeat if you strain your ears enough, you put your lips against his skin. he smells like strawberries, from the shampoo he always steals from you, and he’s pleasantly warm. like a confectionary.

a moment passes. you drag it out as long as you can, indulging in the sweet fragrance.

then you begin trailing kisses up his jaw, ghosting over his skin. soft little butterflies, fluttering from his jaw to his cheekbone.. once you get close enough to see the way his eyelashes flutter, and he stirs ever so slightly, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

”satoru,” you murmur. ”just need to go to the bathroom. can you let go for a little bit, please?” 

you try your best to speak as quietly as you can, not wanting to disturb him too much — but you can tell he hears you, even in the state he’s in. all tuckered out, his muddled mind still registering the sound of your voice, how you move your lips to form sounds. a lullaby to his sleep-ridden brain.

bringing a hand up to his forehead, you brush his bangs away with palpable tenderness, leaving a kiss against his forehead. satoru stirs, again; letting out a sleepy noise somewhere between a groan, a sigh, and a whine. squeezing his eyes shut.

”honey,” you coo, hoping the term of endearment will get his attention. ”let go, please? i’ll be quick.”

satoru’s eyes blink open, slowly, like the shutter of a camera. you wish you could take a picture of him, right now — in all his angelic glory, painted over with warm colours and tangled up in freshly washed bedsheets. 

he takes a moment to adjust, unaccustomed to the bright morning light of your bedroom, face scrunching up — then his gaze falls on you.

and his heartbeat picks up.

you’re looking up at him so sweetly, fingers reaching out to cup his cheek, smooth skin against his own. the cerulean of his eyes flutter shut once more, as he nuzzles into your palm; moving one of his arms from your waist, just so he can place his palm over yours, where it rests against his skin. absentminded.

a smile crawls up to your lips. 

”… mm,” is all he manages, an incoherent little mumble. you make another attempt at getting away, only one of his arms caging you in now, but it still doesn’t work. the moment he feels you even try, he tugs you even closer. arm keeping you nice and safe in his embrace. 

satoru makes sure that his palm is still resting over yours when he leans forward, snuggles further into your side. nuzzling into your neck, pressing his lips against your collarbone, muffling a low whine.

”stay,” he murmurs, sleepy and upset, and you almost give in. he’s still too tired to really register what’s happening, only that you’re trying to leave him. 

it makes your chest ache.

a soft sigh leaves your lips. ah, this really is too cruel. how are you supposed to ever leave his embrace when he’s acting like this?

”satoru…” your free hand finds its way to his hair, carding through the pure white strands, and he practically purrs. ”just gotta go to the bathroom. i’ll be back, okay? i’ll hurry.”

another incoherent mumble. he doesn’t move, doesn’t even attempt to. still kissing your collarbone, content to have you run your fingers through his soft locks.

and you feel awful, you do — but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

as you feel him slowly, gradually fall back asleep under your caring touches… you opt to make your move. this time, you’re a little rougher — tugging his arm off and squirming away before he can think to stop you. it’s hard not to feel guilty, especially with the whine satoru lets out, arms blindly reaching out towards you — to no avail. you’re sure the loss of body warmth hits him just as hard as it does you.

an urgent voice inside your chest begs you to soothe him, to console him. seeing the little pout on his pretty lips, the furrow of his brow. 

so you lean over, carefully, cupping his cheek to leave a soft kiss against his forehead. a silent apology. ”i’ll be back soon, toru. go back to sleep, okay?” you hope he feels your love, in the action, in the words. even if he’s not really conscious enough to properly respond. 

just in case he doesn’t, you state your feelings more transparently. thumb caressing his cheekbone, as a whisper flows from out your lips: ”i love you.”

maybe it’s just your imagination, or a coincidence, but you swear he settles down a little after that. succumbing to the needs of his sleepy brain, still a little groggy and frustrated; but soothed enough to rest easy. so far, so good. caught up with thoughts of satoru, and how tiny he looks all alone in the big bed, your brain momentarily forgets about the sorrow. 

but the moment you step out of the bedroom, it’s there to greet you again. creeping up on you — a subtle, gentle kind of shock. almost kind. but hollow and cold, like the temperature of the room dropped, your almost-smile fading like a piece of paper blown away by the wind.

and suddenly, you remember what day it is. you remember what you’re supposed to be doing.

as you brew your morning cup of coffee, trying to distract yourself with the purring of the espresso machine in front of you, you find your thoughts drifting back to satoru. hoping he’ll manage to stay asleep, despite your interference — it’s his first day off in a while. he needs to rest. 

… and you don’t really know if you could deal with him, if he were to wake up and locate you right now. you can imagine what he’d say, what his expression would be like; and you can imagine the exact moment he’d realize that something is wrong, how easily he’d be able to squeeze the answers out of you. you’re weak to satoru. you’d tell him immediately, just to get him to stop frowning that subtle way he always does when he’s worried but doesn’t want you to know. 

which is exactly why this is your only option. sneaking away while he’s asleep, blissfully unaware, even if the guilt eats at your heart. you suppose it’s a welcome distraction. 

(today was going to feel awful, one way or another.)

everything feels a little like a struggle; putting your coat on, stepping into your shoes, making sure you have everything you need. and then, lastly, the note. satoru leaves them for you fairly often, on days he has to go to work early and doesn’t want to wake you, before late night missions and sudden workloads. when the reverse is true, you do the same. just something simple, a little act of love. 

i’ll be back around midnight. don’t wait up for me, okay? 

have a good day. :) 

don’t eat my portion of the kikufuku! i know you���re thinking about it.

i love you. <3

… usually, leaving a little note behind for him to find would make your heart feel light. but today, it’s not nearly as fun. you try your best to sound lighthearted; wholly aware of how ominous the contents still end up sounding.

good morning, satoru ♡  i’m sorry for waking you up before :( and for leaving without saying anything. i have an important errand to run, so i’ll be gone for a while. i’ll make sure i’m back before the sun sets, so just be patient, okay? i know you’re probably really mad, but don’t be too angry with me when i get back, please? i’ll buy you something sweet omw back!! ^^ that’s all, i think. i know how this sounds, but don’t worry. i’ll be back before you know it.  have a good day, alright? enjoy your day off!!  i love you ♡ :)

in all honesty, it’s a little mean. telling satoru not to worry about you is like telling the sun not to shine. he’s confident when he’s with you, thoroughly assured of his ability to protect you… but when you’re out of his sight, you think he gets a little anxious. even if he’s awfully good at hiding it.

still, there’s nothing else to do. you swallow the guilt, stick the note to the fridge, and step over the threshold. out into the real world, the cold world, the empty world. as the sun envelops you, and a spring breeze enters your lungs — that acute awareness strangling you only seems to grow deeper.

everything finally dawns on you, all at once. and it’s impossible to shake away that suffocating feeling —

the feeling that something is wrong.

(that something has been wrong. for a very, very long time.)

the cemetery is empty, this year.

you suspect the glaring sun has something to do with it. blinding you, casting a bright glow over the tombs of the dead, entirely out of place. no one wants to do their mourning in this kind of weather. it just feels wrong. 

that hasn’t stopped you, though. you wonder if it’s due to a love so strong it disregards the weather, or a blatant disregard towards the feelings of the dead. 

maybe both. probably both.

the solitude creeps up on you like a hungry ghost, but it’s a blessing in flimsy disguise; right now, you’re all alone. and today, that’s all you truly need. a feeling almost like stepping into another realm, one with no connection to things like reality or time. it’s just you, and the graves, and the ghosts. there’s no one here to see you cry, no one who can pretend like they understand. no one to witness the price you’ve paid for loving so fervently. 

slowly, you make your way across the cemetery. sparing a glance towards the city skyline, before fixing your eyes on one particular tomb. 

when you crouch down, the paper bag in your hand hits the ground with a soft crunch. all flowers are still in perfect condition; asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hyacinths. you cradle them tightly, pressed against your chest, feeding off your weakening heartbeat — your eyes moving, flitting over the grave, the name engraved into the stone. putting the bouquet down.

(you really hope she’ll like them.)

it’s surreal. to look at an object and still see a person, to touch the petals of a flower and remember the softness of human skin. you never quite got used to it. all you ever seem to do is lean into the strangeness of it all, the kick you get out of sullying something untainted. trying to remember something that should be left in the past. you can’t leave her alone.

”hi,” you whisper, so low you barely hear it. ”i’m back.”

with a sigh, you settle down on the ground; sitting cross-legged, getting comfortable. this’ll take a while.

the cherry trees are beautiful, this year. they always are; always in full bloom, almost mocking in their beauty. with their silky petals, fallen all across the ground, dyeing everything in shades of white and pink. as your eyes trail across the flowery landscape, basking in the sickening solitude of it all, that sense of otherworldliness deepens. you try not to look at the blinding sun, try not to think of the man it reminds you of. 

it’s just you, here. just you, the graves, and the cherry trees. just you, and her, and your sorrow.

for a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that it’s true — you’re in a different world, now. one that settles on the wrong axis and paints itself with the wrong colours. one that stopped spinning long ago.

(the tender stirring of your heartstrings never fades away. it sounds a little like a hymn.)

all you can think of is her. all you can feel is the grief. that hole in your heart, extending, extending, extending. it hasn’t stopped since she left. a black hole of a feeling. it’s been years since it opened, years of trying to patch it up, clawing your way to a state of normalcy. living with a piece of you carved out. 

losing your other half feels a little bit like dying in reverse. having to keep going with half your shadow stripped away, out of the tunnel, into the light. even if you’d much rather fall to the bottom, with your silhouette still intact.

(throughout the years, you’ve come to a single conclusion; orpheus had it so much worse than eurydice.)

despite everything, a smile curls its way onto your lips. something soft and fleeting, that blossoms within your irises, in between your ribs. she doesn’t answer you, as always, so you keep talking — anything to still feel connected to her. anything to fill the silence of the cemetery, the numbed out grief inside your chest. 

”let’s see. where should i start…” is muttered into the open air, followed by a moment of silence, as you think of what to say. ”i’m still with satoru, if you were wondering. everything is still… good. more than good. he’s a really, really good guy.”

a moment passes.

”i hope you’re doing okay. wherever you are. if you’re anywhere at all,” soft air leaves your lungs, a little slip of a breath, but it’s shallow, like your chest doesn’t really care if you miss an inhale or not. like just giving and never getting could keep you alive. ”i miss you. a lot. i wish i could see you…” 

a hum buzzes in your throat. you try not to think of her hair, the scent of her perfume. the flower in the back of your brain has grown bigger, you notice. unfurling at an agonizing pace, blossoming the way a wound heals. throat burning, heart aching, you swallow.

(the hole inside your heart feels jagged, like cracked glass seeping into your pancreas. a deep, internal ache.)

when you speak, your voice comes out small. nothing more than a whisper, a flurry of air. there’s an honesty to the words that makes it hard to breathe.

”… everything is so boring without you around.”

a shuddering breath leaves your wobbling lips, and you know it’s coming. you make a halfhearted attempt to keep your voice from breaking, but it doesn’t work. your eyes are already glassy, wetness spilling out, tears getting stuck in your lashes, dripping down your cheeks — you manage a meek chuckle, but it comes out sounding more like a broken whimper.

try as you might, her figure never leaves your mind. it’s all you can think of, ingrained into your retinas; a single silhouette, walking ahead of you. a sweet girl, maybe a little mean, but still so gentle. your very own moon, soothing in her confidence. every step she took was like a landmark for you to follow. 

if you strain yourself a little, she appears before you — a polaroid dug out from the depths of your memories. 

in almost microscopic detail, you can see her smile, the way the light reflected off her teeth. you can feel her hand, the way her fingers curled so perfectly around yours. you can see her, hear her, the colour of her eyes, the sound of her laughter. a moonlit girl, who left you all alone — walking ahead of you, always ahead, leaving you behind to catch up. bringing whispered secrets with her, soft bouts of laughter.

your one and only best friend.

(it’s not fair.)

something in you urges you to keep talking. it’s all you have it in you to do. and maybe it’s weird, maybe you’re crazy — to talk to someone who can’t hear you. less than a ghost.

but it’s nice. it’s comforting. it reminds you of the voicemails you would leave each other, on weekends you were both too busy to speak on the phone. her voice always came out a little fractured, from her shitty nuclear bomb of an iphone, but you strained your ears to hear every word she said. you always, always did.

(it was nice.)

so you continue. you tell her everything, and then some more. talking and talking, about you, about her, about satoru. by the time you’re done, the sun is getting ready to descend, painting the sky a bleeding orange. your voice has gone hoarse, eyes red and puffy from all the crying, but your chest feels a little lighter — the hole inside it a little more narrow, not as broken and split and jagged.

”so, well,” you clear your throat, finishing your one-sided conversation; smiling weakly. ”i guess what i’m trying to say is… i loved you this year, too.”

the smile on your face is tearstained, feeble, as you get back up on shaky legs, brushing petals and dust off the fabric of your pants. stretching your arms out.

”i’ll be back,” you promise, the same oath every single year. ”wait for me.”

one last look at her grave is all you allow yourself; soaking in the peace and quiet, the creamsicle sky framing it. parting with this sight always feels so strange. crossing the boundary, going back to a world where she’s dead and gone. discarding her so callously.

but you can’t keep satoru waiting, anymore. you promised him you’d get back before sunset.

when you begin your descent down the hill, you can’t help but look back — just one look, just in case she’s standing there. she never is, but you still spare a glance over your shoulder, every single time. you like to think of it as an act of love. 

it doesn’t feel as all-consuming, anymore, that exhausting numbness. the sorrow is still there, the grief is still there; but it’s a little less unendurable. and you feel that you can return to reality for another year, until you need to come back and cry some more.

for now, you can manage. 

(but you still have one big obstacle to deal with.)

it doesn’t take long to get back. 

as your fingers curl around the doorknob, you mentally prepare yourself. taking a shaky inhale. satoru definitely won’t be happy — you can already picture the frown he’ll have on his face, his crossed arms. the neverending flurry of huffs and scoffs. 

you’ll just have to bear with it. exhaustion crawls beneath your skin, and everything feels a little too heavy for you to bear without breaking. normally, you’d head straight to bed, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to coax the day into ending early. but you can’t pull something like that, today. not when satoru will be there to see it. you can only hope he’ll be understanding — even without knowing anything. 

(such an unfair thing to ask of a person.)

the door creaks open, and you step inside.

a particular scent engulfs you, as soon as you cross the threshold to your apartment. a blend between sunlight, and the fabric softener he likes, and freshly squeezed fruit juice. and, of course, that certain aroma you can only ever describe as home. 

it smells like satoru, too. then again, maybe that’s just the scent of home in disguise.

finally, the weight around your shoulders starts to crumble. it’s a little easier to breathe, like this, a weighted blanket of comfort around you. something sweet and soothing and smelling lightly of rosemary. peace — or as close to it as you can get, today.

a sigh pushes past your lips; heavy with fatigue. dripping with relief.

(you’re home.)

”well, well, well.”

— a moment passes.

the sudden noise makes you freeze up, eyes wide and alert, still in the process of kicking off your shoes. internally wincing, bracing yourself. here it comes. 

slowly, hesitantly, you raise your gaze from the floor — locking eyes with a certain man. 

satoru looks displeased, to say the very least. arms crossed, with a cute little frown playing on his lips. just as you imagined. you can’t see his eyes from behind his shades — but if you could, you’re sure they’d carry a sense of betrayal. 

”… hi, sato —”

”i can’t believe you.”

an amused breath slips from your lips. amused, but sheepish, awfully nervous. like you just came home to an angry wife, after promising to be back early from work. and satoru only huffs, staring you down like you just killed his dog.

”betrayed. deserted. by my own partner,” he scoffs, shaking his head in obvious disapproval. ”what, are you done with your errand now?”

”satoru,” you try, voice falling into a melodic lilt. smiling up at him, inching closer. to your surprise, he takes a step back.

(you must have really upset him.)

a sad smile. you exhale, wringing your hands together. ”… i’m sorry i left you.”

”you should be,” he pouts, voice wounded to a degree that must be at least a little bit exaggerated. ”and you said you were just going to the bathroom.”

you let out a small, guilty chuckle. he remembers that? ”i’m really sorry. i left you the note, though…”

”right. the note,” satoru scoffs, like the word itself is personally offensive. ”d’you know how awful i felt, seeing that first thing in the morning? no sign of you anywhere, and some silly note is supposed to make up for it?” 

oh, he’s being so unfair. looking so disgruntled, tapping the pads of his fingers on his elbow. you wish you could take him seriously, but he’s way too endearing. and he won’t let you get a word in.

”i was so worried. i thought someone had kidnapped you.” satoru doesn’t let up, even when an amused chuckle leaves your lips. ”you turned your phone off and everything! what were you even doing?”

”i know, i know. i’m sorry, really. i am!” you hang up your coat, brushing off a leftover cherry petal. ”it was a personal thing, like i said. but i dealt with everything now, so it’s fine.”

”that’s not an answer,” he mutters. ”you’re really not gonna tell me?”

a pang of guilt hits your heart. 

”… sorry,” you murmur, low and feeble. avoiding his gaze. ”some other time, okay?”

satoru only lets out another spiteful scoff, arms still crossed. you wonder if he’s holding himself back from hugging you, or if he really is so angry with you that he doesn’t want you near him.

”look, toru —” you try, again, molding your voice into something soft and sweet. ”i’m really sorry. i won’t do it again, okay? and i’ll make it up to you.” 

you hold up a paper bag, waving it slightly to get his attention. you can tell that it works. ”look. i got you your favorite pastries.”

satoru’s frown remains, despite the sweet treats. he must be angrier than you thought. ”really? you think some cookies will be enough to make things right?” 

so stubborn. you suppose it’s warranted, though. you know how satoru is — if you’re not by his side for an extended amount of time, he starts to mope. after a while, he starts feeling lonely. 

and then, finally, he starts to get anxious.

he’s told you, before, how much these days mean to him; days when the two of you can stay in and relax, and watch silly tv shows, and cook dinner, and fall asleep in each other’s arms. days when he can just be your toru, and no one else. your personal splotch of sunshine.

of course he’d be upset. 

(you really are cruel, keeping him in the dark like this.)

seeing him so grumpy makes you oddly happy, though. just his presence makes that suffocating feeling in your chest feel a little more bearable, easing the burden on your restless heart. he makes you feel vulnerable.

with a thud, the paper bag drops to the floor. you open up your arms, like a blooming flower, a sheepish little smile on your lips. ”i missed you?”

the words are tinted with honey, sweet and warm, but also kind of sad. you tilt your head to the right, slightly, a silent invitation into your arms. 

and for a second, something unreadable sparks in satoru’s eyes, hidden behind the black of his shades. you still notice it, though — almost as if his whole face pauses for a second. in clever contemplation. 

you wonder if he noticed it, then. your puffy eyes, the sagging of your shoulders; the fatigue seeping off you, sticking to your skin.

you wonder if that’s why he relents, finally, stepping closer to bring you in for a hug.

the moment your head meets his chest, you’re enveloped by his scent. strawberries and fresh laundry, and a hint of expensive cologne. home.

a sigh leaves your lips, deep and content. you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, melting into the embrace — and satoru can’t really bring himself to be too angry, anymore.

”… well, i guess i could forgive you,” he muses, arms securely wrapped around your waist. you’re sure he’s trying to sound stern, but it’s not very convincing when he’s snuggling into you like this. ”but you’re gonna have to make it up to me. alright?”

”right, right,” you exhale, smiling. just thankful to be close to him, to feel that he’s there. ”thank you, oh benevolent satoru.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you feel it; the low tremor running through his chest, rumbling, as he rests his jaw on your head. ”careful with the snark. if you want to be forgiven you gotta be nice to me, sweetheart.”

you let out a breath, somewhere in between an exasperated sigh and a fond giggle. he’s relieved to hear the sound. satoru prides himself on being observant — being able to read someone with a single glance, notice if something’s off almost instantly. and he’s especially proud of his observant nature when it comes to you. 

as clear as the blue of the sky, or the brightness of the sun, satoru can tell that something’s wrong. he noticed it the moment he read that note, the moment you stepped back into the house, the moment he saw your meek little face staring up at him — desperate for comfort. as if one wrong touch could have you falling apart, shattering, like a flimsy sheet of glass.

whatever you were doing, today… it couldn’t have been pleasant. 

he’s curious, of course, and still more than a little irked at your escape — but that can wait until later. satoru can be patient, when he wants to be. at the very least, he can be patient when it comes to you. 

(for now, he’ll focus on cheering you up.)

nuzzling further into his chest, you take a deep breath, basking in the familiar sensation creeping up on you. satoru makes a halfhearted attempt to stifle his coo. 

”aw, look at you,” he grins, swaying you softly side to side. ”so clingy. you really did miss me, huh?”

a huff leaves your lips. ”shut up,” you mumble, feeling a heat rush to your cheeks. 

”be nice, baby.”

��

and you relent. the least you could do is indulge him, even if you know he’ll abuse the opportunity fully. you part your lips, and speak.

”… of course i missed you.”

”there we go,” a smug grin blooms on his lips. he rubs your back, absentmindedly. gosh, he’s infuriating. 

(you love him so much you want to sneak into his chest and gobble up his heart.)

after a moment, he pulls away from you. just a little, just to get a good look at your face. drinking you in, with his blue-soaked gaze, as your eyelashes flutter. he reaches out, the pads of his fingers meeting your soft skin — cupping your cheek with his palm, big and warm, cradling you the way a believer would cup a mouthful of holy water. 

then he leans in to kiss you. giving you no time to prepare, drawing you in, drawn to your touch, inexplicably. helplessly. 

it’s a chaste kiss, light and heart-fluttering. his lips are soft, tasting lightly of cherry chapstick. when you exhale against them, you feel him smile, almost smirking. a blissful little breath that he drinks in, hands squeezing softly at your hips, bringing you just a little closer. rubbing his nose against yours. 

his tongue flits out to lick at your bottom lip, a teasing flick, and then he’s pulling back — still close enough to make you flustered. 

”missed you too,” he purrs, voice deep and raspy, rumbling through his chest. ”thought i was gonna go insane without you.”

with a flushed face, and something akin to a pout playing at your lips, you avoid his gaze. you’re sure that if you looked now, you’d see those pools of blue peeking out beneath the black glass. 

satoru leans in to kiss you, again. giving you no warning, as always; unable to resist the temptation. 

(you really are too cute for your own good.)

it’s a little intoxicating, the way he breathes you in. sweet and warm, like he’s trying to say i love you without using any words, with just his lips and lungs and tongue. he’s a little too good at it — someone so inexperienced has no business being so naturally good at kissing. it’s a little irritating.

but that’s satoru, for you. always surpassing your expectations; like there’s no limit to his love.

satoru finally decides to spare you, satisfied with the tiny squeak that bubbles up in your throat when he nibbles at the flesh of your lip. he’ll demand more kisses later — preferably when you’re seated in his lap, and he can properly turn you into a boneless puddle.

”alright,” he chirps, a melodic lilt to his voice, stepping back with a palm still on your hip. his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric. ”let’s see those pastries.”

”oh. right…” you’re quick to lean down, snatching the paper bag from where it lays on the floor. passing it to satoru, so he can look into it.

seemingly satisfied with the contents, he lets out a contemplative hum. ”okay, this is a start,” he nods, decisive. ”c’mon. let’s eat ’em by the couch.”

…

you narrow your eyes, suddenly suspicious. ”… hang on. have you had lunch yet?”

satoru gapes, as if in disbelief, barking out a soft, offended little scoff. ”really? you’re doubting me?”

”that’s not a yes.”

a pout forms on his lips. ”of course i have. who do you think i am?”

”oh yeah?” you give him a smile, a tiny raise of your brow. something in you knows that he’s lying. ”what’d you eat?”

”what is this, an interrogation?” he huffs. ”i’m a grown man. i can eat what i want!”

”not when i’m around,” you deadpan. then sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. ”satoru, you can’t eat a bunch of sweets for lunch. it’s not good for you.”

”so you can abandon me for hours, but i can’t have a little treat every once in a while? is that how it is?”

a roll of your eyes. you shift on your feet, letting out a low groan, and satoru has to reel in his growing smile. ”alright, drama queen. i get your point.” a moment passes, and you hum. ”… want me to make you something? or should i just order take out?”

satoru pouts, again, like a big huffy dog. ”babe, don’t you trust me? i’ve already had lunch. i got yakitori from the place downtown!”

”oh? you mean the yakitori place that’s closed on sundays?”

”huh. that’s weird,” he muses, smiling faintly. ”must’ve been some other place, then.” 

you give him an unamused look. he returns it with a vague upturn of his lips, completely unbothered.

a sigh.

”… i’ll order take out.”

”whatever you say, princess.”

you stifle a smile, and go digging for your phone, feeling your own stomach rumble a bit. in the midst of the banter, you almost forget what day it is. 

and satoru feels satisfied. you look a little more alive, now. a little more anchored to reality. as you call the takeout place of your choosing, he can even spot some earnest light in your eyes. he’s not exactly worried — but you did seem oddly stiff, just now, a little blurry. faded at the corners, like a dusty old polaroid.

and if there’s one thing satoru gojo can’t do, it’s leave you alone when he knows you need him.

satoru’s punishment for leaving him alone so long is swift and severe.

you’re seated in his lap, caged in by his long arms, and this time you know there’s no escaping them. even if you could, you wouldn’t dare to try. being caged in like this, warm and comfy in satoru’s embrace, isn’t really much of a punishment at all — even the kisses he has you press against his lips and jaw aren’t unwelcome, albeit a little embarrassing. he’s a merciful tyrant. 

but you can’t help but feel like you’re deceiving him. 

you still feel so lost, somehow, a murky sensation you can’t seem to shake off. and you know it’s because of your brain, because of the correlations it’s stitching and crocheting between today and her and you. 

it simply won’t let you be happy, today. 

you can’t help but feel a little greedy. ungrateful. even though you have your precious sun with you, even though you should feel warm, her absence hangs heavy on you. her continued absence, in your world, your life. a chill that rots your bones from the inside out. you know you’ll never get over it. you don’t ever want to get over it. it’s tough, though. 

you should be happy, snuggled into your boyfriend’s arms, but her sorrow clings to you. you should be mourning, but his arms feel so secure like this. no reaction feels right, no emotion warranted.

(you really are greedy, aren’t you?)

satoru chuckles, a sound both delighted and amused — snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. as always.

you’re watching a movie he likes, some cheesy old romcom. you really, really don’t understand his taste. but his commentary is always entertaining. judging by his cute little noise, someone just said something funny — funny to his standards, anyhow.

it’s too tempting to resist. you crane your neck, glancing up at him, wanting to see his face. from this angle, you can spot the blue of his eyes — beautiful and bright, flickering with splotches of pure white. they flit down to meet your own, gleaming with amusement.

”do i have something on my face, baby?” satoru chuckles, leaning forward to get a better look at you, all tucked against his chest. he grins, smooth, handsome; tailor-made to make you flustered. ”you’re staring at me real hard, there.”

(what a tease. 

unfortunately for him, you saw this one coming.)

”nah,” you show off a grin of your own, bubbly and teasing. ”you’re just pretty.”

he blinks. a few seconds passes by.

then a smile breaks out across his face. his eyes crinkle softly at the edges, like little petals, snowy bangs gliding against his skin when he tilts his head.

”oh?” he leans closer, hands still keeping you in place, making sure your gaze stays locked onto his. ”so forward. am i really that irresistible?”

there’s something soft in your eyes, something tender in the way your fingers go to touch his skin. a ghost of a caress, paired with your flimsy smile. you look at him like he hung all the stars in the sky, breathing out an exhale. ”… i wouldn’t go that far.”

”aw, don’t be embarrassed,” he lets out a coo. ”come on — tell me i’m pretty again.”

”you liked that, huh?”

satoru flicks your forehead, no real strength behind it, so soft you barely feel it. there’s a certain reprimanding tilt to his voice, teasing as it is. ”be nice.”

he’s lucky you’re feeling too vulnerable to put up a fight. you turn around, to face him properly, squirming in his hold; reaching out to cup his handsome face.

”pretty boy,” you murmur, running your thumb along the expanse of his cheekbone. satoru grins, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest. you can spot earnest giddiness on his features — such a sucker for praise.

blindly, he searches for your other hand, bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, you notice, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. like every peck is a whispered psalm, a silent worship. but it’s light, it always has been — the weight of his boundless adoration. it’s not the heavy kind of love that gods give, not the one you hear about in stories, that always ends in death. satoru’s love isn’t crushing, and it isn’t suffocating. it’s delicate and careful, soft. it reminds you of how sunshine licks at your skin in the morning.

nothing more or less than one human being’s wholehearted love for another; giggles buzzing against your skin, crinkled eyes and mouthfuls of honey. blissful summer days.

(it reminds you of her, but it’s also something entirely different. something you can only ever make sense of when you think of the sun. when every single corner of your home has been doused in sunshine.)

a moment passes. so, so intimate, unbroken by the grief inside your chest. balm to your fractured heart, smoothing across your jagged edges. satoru leans into your palm, into your touch, relishing in the affection you give him. like a bee to a flower, blooming, wilting.

a nagging need tugs at your heartstrings.

(you want to see him. up close.)

although a little unsure, you reach your hands out, slowly, delicately, like approaching a frightened fawn — eager to remove his shades. he makes no move to stop you, so you assume that it’s okay. his eyes flutter open, when you do, white lashes parting like a bird taking flight; crinkled at the corners, overflowing with warmth. like sunshine streaming in through the curtains of your childhood kitchen. 

your heartbeat stutters at the sight.

all you can do is stare. transfixed, losing yourself in their calming hue, drinking them in. you sigh; a soft, quiet little sound. ”you’re so pretty.”

…

satoru lets out a breath, tinged with laughter. his eyes are teasing, but warm even still. ”… am i, now?”

”mhm. the prettiest.”

he chokes back another chuckle. hoping you won’t notice the slight flush to his ears, the heat on the back of his neck. he’s grown skilled at keeping a poker face, even when you try to fluster him — but it’s harder when you’re not trying, when it comes to you so easily. when your words are honest.

just when he’s about to turn the tables on you, you duck your head under his jaw. nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling his cologne, craving his warmth, knowing how much it grounds you. 

that, and his eyes are just a little too beautiful to stare into for too long. they always see right through you, deep into your soul, into every little nook and cranny of your mind. that undivided attention makes you feel a little meek, like you’re bare and raw before him. like there’s nothing you can hide.

(something in your hollowed-out chest begins to crumble.)

falling silent, you absently fiddle with the hem of satoru’s shirt, resting your forehead against his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything. the room would be silent were it not for that cheesy romcom, still buzzing in the background — you think the main couple just got divorced, again. or did get they married? you can’t really keep track of the plot. you can’t keep track of much at all, right now.

satoru makes you too happy.

so happy you forget what day it is, forget you’re supposed to be mourning. sometimes, you forget she’s even gone at all. as if she’s resting on some summer field, outside of your vision, alive and well. 

but she isn’t. you can’t forget that.

guilt. how long has it been part of your life? you don’t know the answer. you’re not sure you want to know. most of the time, it’s all you can feel. guilt, because you’re sitting here, happy, with the love of your life — the most wonderful person you know. guilt, because you haven’t told him what’s going on, because you don’t trust him enough — even though you’d like to think you just don’t want to burden him. you don’t trust anyone enough to let them glimpse into your decaying chest. you’re afraid of the rot. you’re afraid it’ll mold his hand at the slightest touch.

guilt, guilt, guilt — because you’re lucky enough to meet such wonderful people, over and over again, and never quite manage to deserve them.

(having lost its moon, where does a star find solace?)

a hand begins to stroke your head. the weight is a comfort, reassuring, a jolt of warmth trickling down your spine. for a moment, it’s all you can feel.

(— in the warmth of the sun.)

”sleepy?” he murmurs, low and soft. a little teasing, mostly inquisitive, a calm lull of his tongue.

are you? you didn’t really notice, until now. things are starting to feel a little hazy, aren’t they? you feel comfortable, too comfortable, your body aching for a moment of rest, a chance to shut off. sleep, sleep, sleep. don’t think about anything anymore.

satoru notices your sleepy little breaths, the way you gradually soften under his touch, melt into his arms. so he continues to run his hand over your head, petting you gently — knowing it’ll coax you into resting. he’d like you to stay up and binge shows with him all night, but you seem awfully tired. just this once, he’ll let you sleep — the plot was starting to get boring, anyhow. the sequel’s way better.

”you can rest, baby,” he coos, with a gentle intonation. his voice buzzes in your ear. ”i’ve got you.”

(he’s got you.)

the words make you feel so horribly, awfully safe. you can already feel yourself drifting away. his hand smooths down your hair, and a yawn slips from your lips, and you’re just so, so tired. how nice it would be, for the day to end. to be able to forget, for another year.

yeah. how nice. 

you wonder why you don’t take the opportunity.

maybe it has something to do with satoru. with the way he seems to bring you back to reality so effortlessly, soothes you without even really trying. maybe it’s the way he bares himself in front of you, blue eyes on full display, allowing you to see every single part of him. 

maybe, it makes you want to do the same.

”… satoru?”

your voice sounds meek. tiny, unguarded. the man in question only hums, feeling you slump against his shoulder. ”hm?”

”today…” you trail off, unsure how to proceed. you can only think of a certain girl, a certain moon. the melancholy is almost overbearing; it pushes you over the edge. ”i went to a cemetery.”

satoru doesn’t respond. he gives you space to continue, never once halting the motion of his big hand on your head, smoothing down your hair. you gulp, trying to force your dry throat to make sounds.

”… my best friend is buried there. she died today. a couple years back… so i —” a coldness crawls under your skin, words hollow as they leave your lips.

”… you know.”

”yeah. i figured.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter, in surprise — you can’t see satoru’s face, with the way you’re pressed up against him, but you still look up.

what tipped him off, you wonder? 

you believe him. satoru has a way of seeing through you, one way or another, always more observant than you give him credit for. he’s tactful, in how he brings it up, and that slumbering maturity he tries to hide comes into view. there’s no judgement in his tone, no pity — only understanding.

”… oh,” is all you can mutter. dumbfounded.

”i’m sorry. about her.”

”don’t be,” you murmur, managing a soft shake of your head. ”i’m — i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i just wanted to go there alone, and… deal with it? i guess.”

after a brief pause, you keep going. feeling so, so small. but satoru holds you so tenderly. a whisper slips past your lips, dripping with longing.

”… you’d have liked her.”

”what was she like?” comes his reply, instantaneous.

…

huh.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your mind spins in circles, but nothing happens. 

(what was she like?)

”… i really loved her.”

satoru lets out a breath. vaguely amused, but he isn’t smiling. his words have a kindness to them; an understanding, more than anything. ”that’s all, huh?”

a slight intake of breath.

— then you bring yourself to think of her.

you think of her face, how her lips curled up into a smile when you tripped over air, the splotches of sunlight reflecting off her white teeth. you think of her laughter, how it always echoed in your head, how she took your hand in hers when you were too scared to walk ahead alone — taking the first step so you wouldn’t have to. a whole human being, multifaceted, enough traits and quirks to fill the whole night sky.

your moon. your eurydice. the only one who understood you.

you loved her a lot.

”… when i was with her, even sitting around and doing nothing made me happy.” nostalgia seeps into the whisper, like warm honey clogging up your throat, choking you. ”just her being there made every day feel like a good one.”

satoru doesn’t say anything. but he holds you, and he doesn’t let go. even when your voice begins to waver.

”i guess that’s… how i’d describe her.” a small breath. then a smile, even smaller. rueful, but it’s there, and it means everything. ”i’d do anything to have that yesterday back.”

satoru stays silent. 

you’ve spoken about her, before. he knows some things. not a lot. he knows she’s important to you; the person who shaped you into who you are, your very best friend. he tries to picture her, inside his mind.

you let out a tiny sigh, your lungs feeling empty of air. ”… i’m sure you two would have gotten along.”

”yeah,” he hums, palm smoothing down your back. stifling the thought that threatens to sneak into his mind — you wouldn’t have gotten along with him, but i would’ve wanted you to. ”i’m sure we would have.”

it’s a little too sweet to be true. but it makes you happy, just to imagine that kind of reality — the two of them, together. satoru would tease her, and she’d ignore him, hiding a smile behind her palm. she’d warm up to him eventually. they’d bicker over who knew you best, and demand your own verdict — 

you’d smile, not saying a thing.

your voice has gotten a little shaky. it’s scary, opening yourself up for him to see; it feels a little like being sewn open. but you force yourself to keep going. satoru rubs your back through it all, soothingly.

(he’s so, so proud of you.)

”i was thinking…” you trail off, gaze fixed on satoru’s shirt, fingers gripping the smooth fabric. ”maybe, some time in the future — i mean, if you want to — you could… come with me? maybe?” 

silence.

”you don’t have to say yes. but if you do want to —”

”i do.” 

satoru’s voice is absolute. there isn’t any room for doubt; he makes sure of that. ”i’d like to meet her.”

… oh.

it was that easy, huh? 

(you wonder what you could have possibly done to deserve him.)

”… okay,” you mumble, meekly, breath fanning over his skin. ”next year, then.”

satoru glances down at you. curled up against him, nearly sleeping, looking a lot less burdened than before — though there’s still a desperation in the way you lean into his touch, a silent terror, like you could drift away if he doesn’t keep you close. satoru wants to fix it. he wants to run his hands across your skin, stitch the scars life has left you with, even if his touch could never be as gentle as he’d like it to be. he wants to be tender.

but there’s no fixing grief. it lingers, always, no matter how much you try to scrub it away. even if you run a washcloth over your skin until it starts to bleed, the scent still remains. 

and there’s a sickening sense of comfort in the knowledge that it always will.

(there’s no getting rid of him, satoru knows. and deep down, he’s glad that it’s true.)

more than anything else — satoru is content. content in the knowledge that you trust him, that you can bring yourself to open up to him about something so personal. that you chose to tell him, even though he gave you a way out. something about it makes him feel almost overwhelmed with affection. the kind he can’t bear not to show you, the kind that makes him seek you out almost subconsciously; seeking out your touch, your laughter. the smile on your face.

and maybe, just maybe — it makes him want to be a little more open with you, too.

”yeah,” he murmurs, craning his neck to leave a kiss on the crown of your head. ”you can sleep, baby. we’ll talk more about it tomorrow, okay?”

”… i’m sorry for leaving you this morning,” you whisper, suddenly. a little meek. ”i felt really bad.”

satoru chuckles. raspy, an amused little breath. ”you’re forgiven, honey,” he coos. ”just don’t do it again, hm? might break my heart.”

with a yawn, you loop your arms around his neck, nuzzling further into his warmth. fighting the urge to close your eyes. drowsiness washes over you all at once, as if it was waiting for you to get the last of your worries off your chest. ”… i love you.”

”i love you too,” comes his reply, a smile tugging at his lips. ”my sweet girl.”

it’s hard to resist the temptation. almost impossible, with how warm satoru feels, your eyes helplessly fluttering close. you were supposed to stay up with him — you haven’t even finished eating. and you didn’t finish his awful romcom. 

but he runs his hands over your head, and down your back, and it’s simply too hard to withstand the temptation. so you close your eyes, just for a second —

and that’s all it takes.

satoru keeps petting you, softly, until he’s sure you’re asleep, soft little breaths falling from your parted lips, drool slipping down your chin. he’ll forgive you for staining his shirt, just this once. with you in his lap, sound asleep, he feels himself soften — hands running down your back, rubbing circles into your skin. cradling you closer and closer, ensuring that you’re comfortable. taking a few sneaky pictures, that he’ll tease you about tomorrow — 

(though in reality, he just wants to be able to look at them whenever he wants.)

even while eating, romcom flickering on and on, all he can think about is you. how you look so pretty sleeping against him, how you trust him enough to let him see you at your lowest. how you trust him to take care of you, run his fingers across the scars etched into your soul. even if it does no good, even if his touch is clumsy at best — that act of trust alone sets his heart aflutter.

he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve this happiness.

”well, here we are.”

satoru holds a bouquet of flowers in his arms, putting it down on the grave, crouching down next to you.

a sigh leaves your lips. 

”… this still feels a little surreal,” you admit, sparing a glance at the man to your left. ”sure you’re not a little freaked out?”

”nah. don’t mind me, just do your thing.”

”that’s… easier said than done,” you murmur, arranging the flowers for the grave. asters and forget-me-nots, haberleas and hydrangeas.

a hum buzzes in his throat. ”well, what do you usually do when you’re here?”

”i… talk to her, i guess…?” you gnaw at your bottom lip, turning your face away. you feel a little awkward, admitting it out loud, but if satoru finds it weird he’s frighteningly good at hiding it.

all he does is take a step back, as if giving space for your words to fit in. respectful, accommodating. so smooth you barely notice it. ”then talk.”

”… i can’t do that with you here.”

”eh? why not?”

”because — i just can’t, okay?” you let out a huff, averting your gaze, shying away from him. ”whatever. i’m just gonna do it in my head. she’ll have to manage.”

satoru turns his head, looking down at the city skyline below you as you clasp your hands together. when he looks back, he sees you mouthing something, no sound coming out — and decides to leave you be.

the grave is well kept. he wonders how many visits you’ve managed to sneak past him, in the years that he’s known you. he wonders if it’s supposed to feel this foreign, being here, staring down at something he knows must mean the world to you. the grave of your very best friend. someone who holds a piece of your heart, a side of you he never got to see. 

he’ll have to make a good first impression.

satoru clasps his hands together, too. and he speaks, silently, with no words; lips pursed in a tight line. 

(hi, there. it’s nice to meet you.)

it’s not like he has no experience of talking to the dead, himself. he’s more than acquainted with one-sided conversations, lonely visions of boys with black hair, men with sad smiles. framed by the setting sun.

so it doesn’t feel too odd. 

satoru talks. about this, about that. he tries to keep it professional. this is important to you, so by nature, it’s important to him. the conversation comes to a close, and he looks at the grave with an unreadable expression — hands still clasped in silent prayer.

(i promise to take care of them.)

a sniffle. 

satoru glances over at you, just as you turn away — trying to hide from him. but he knows. he’ll always, always know when you need him most. 

two strong arms curl around your waist, stabilizing you, anchoring you to earth. ”i’ve got you,” he whispers, and you fall into his embrace. allowing him to pick up the pieces, to put you back together. ”i’ve got you.”

”i —” your voice breaks apart, crumbles into stardust, a shuddering breath that escapes from the back of your throat. there’s nothing to see through your tears. ”i miss her so much.”

satoru cradles you close to his chest, tucking you under his chin. ”i know,” he soothes. your little sobs leave his heart with a bitter feeling, and he wishes he could make them disappear; but he knows you need this. 

when he holds you, something brushes against the fabric of your clothing. the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. something alive, deep within his chest, something for you to ground yourself with. and you know it was intentional, on his part — the decision to press your hearts together, a promise he doesn’t have to find the words for, because you know.

(stay alive for me. i’ll stay alive for you.

when you can’t breathe properly, i’ll be here to do it for you.)

your tears stain his brand-new coat, but he doesn’t care. all he cares about is you, the fact that you’re crying, how to properly comfort you. it’s new to him, all of it, everything about you is just so new and he’s so afraid of messing it all up again —

but he holds you close. murmuring, right by your ear, endless sweet nothings. he waits for you to get it all out of your system, and he doesn’t let you go.

when you finally collect yourself, thoroughly tired out, eyes red and puffy — satoru smiles. it’s brighter than the sun, positively life-envoking. it gives you something to hold on to. he parts his lips.

”thank you for bringing me here.”

a shake of your head. soft, as he thumbs away your tears, one by one. ”thank you for coming with me,” you smile, small as it is, holding onto his hands. feeling the warmth of his skin, the smoothness of his palm.

after saying your farewells, and promising to come back next year, the two of you begin your trek down the mountain trail. hand in hand. it’s mostly silent, but not at all in a bad way. satoru knows when to be serious, and when not to be. today, he knows you’re especially fragile — he wouldn’t dare overstep.

(especially when he knows your pain so well.)

”hey,” you break the silence. ”thank you, really. for… well, everything.”

satoru brushes you off, with a light squeeze of your hand. ”don’t mention it. i’m your boyfriend, aren’t i?”

”it’s not about that,” you chuckle, an embarrassed smile on your lips. ”just… thank you for existing, i guess. i love you a lot.” 

…

satoru hums.

if he were any other person, maybe he’d respond with something just as sincere — something to let you know exactly how much you mean to him, how you make his world brighter just by being in it. how you mend scars he didn’t even know he had, as effortlessly as brushing a strand of hair away from your face. how you remind him of a certain boy, but also something entirely different; a love so light it makes him feel human.

but he’s satoru gojo — and so he has to do things in a more roundabout way.

”hey,” he starts, with a soft click of his tongue. ”next christmas. are you free?”

you blink up at him, with a tilt of your head. ”… of course. we always do something on christmas, right?”

”no, i don’t mean that.”

another tilt of your head. satoru hums, low and contemplative, humming quietly.

”eh,” he flicks his hand, waving you off. ”you’ll see.”

”… okay?”

silently, you study his expression, hoping to find some sort of hint that’ll give away the meaning of his words. you can’t find anything except a carefree smile, his eyes still obscured by his shades — hidden from you and the rest of the ghosts.

you suppose it doesn’t really matter. satoru seems happy; and, really, that’s all you could ask for. 

so you only tug him closer, greedy for his warmth, basking in the feeling of it enveloping you. protecting you from the chilly air. 

satoru closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

(a boy with black hair smiles behind his eyelids.)

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Astarion When You're Injured•°

On the one hand, oh no, his beloved is hurt.

On the other, gods is he turned on.

Now if you were actually at deaths door, that would be different.

Astarion would be a nervous, furious, tear stained wreck. Worrying that he'd lose the single most important thing in his cursed existence.

The one thing that truly matters in his life. You.

But, if you're injured from just the run of the mill scrapes you get yourself into? Well that's fair game for him to be horny as all hell.

The way you wince when you roll up your shirt, a stab wound gouged into your abdomen.

How the blood trickles down to your breeches and stains your flesh, the crimson glinting in the slant of moonlight coming in from your partially open tent...

He'll feel his pants grow tight.

"Darling, I know you're injured and probably aren't in the mood but I must say you look positively scrumptious right now."

Astarion will watch you like a hawk as you stumble about your tent, looking for alcohol, bandages, a needle and thread.

The way you bite your lip to stifle yet another whimper, the sweet scent of your blood in the air. He licks his lips.

Oh, he could just eat you right up.

"Kitten, you've got to stop whimpering and groaning unless you want me to ravage you this instant."

When Astarion sees you go to clean yourself up though, he'll be absolutely affronted.

"Ah, ah. Don't you dare grab that rag, my dear. Have you forgotten about little old me? I could clean the blood off of you far better."

He'll say, sinking down to his knees before you. Have no fear though, the vampire will lick your wound til not a single leaking drop of your blood is left.

"This really gets you going?"

You'll ask, bracing your hands upon his shoulders for balance, your skin tingling from his attentive mouth. He's so skilled that you've nearly forgotten about the pain. Nearly.

"Well, my sweet, I could do without the you getting stabbed part but how can I resist when you're dripping red in front of me? You don't know the effect you have on me."

Astarion won't be selfish enough to ask you to take care of the little, well big, problem in his pants however.

He loves you dearly and he is here to help, in anyway he can.

You are injured and he understands that what you need from him isn't unbridled passion but sincere affection.

He will offer to stitch you up himself, seeing as your wound is in an awkward position and you can't really see it unless you're in front of a mirror.

The pale elf will tell you to lie down while he practically straddles you to get closer to the afflicted area.

Crimson eyes twinkling, fangs pearly and white as he smiles but he'll be gentle.

Threading through your raw skin carefully and giving your thigh a few affirming squeezes with his other hand when you gasp.

"See, pet? Aren't I just the best lover you've ever had? Flesh isn't so different from fabric and my stitches are perfect, wouldn't you say?"

Afterwards he'll wrap your stomach in bandages and get you anything you need.

Medicine to make you feel better and of course, all the recuperation time you need.

So much so that if the others in your camp need you that he will shove them out of your tent and order them to leave you be.

You'll not be leaving your bed for awhile that's for sure. Not while he's here to act as your nurse.

When you ask him to lay in bed with you, Astarion will give you one of his rare, tender smiles. Genuine with no mischief.

The fact that you need him and want him near is still a marvel to him.

It warms his ice cold spawn heart.

Makes him feel things he hasn't felt in 200 years.

"Oh, alright. My body is yours, in more ways than one."

Astarion will joke, flirtatious smirk slotting back into place along his mouth but he'll slip into bed without a fuss.

Your head resting on his chest, him mindful of your wrapped up abdomen.

Once you've had your medicine, rejuvenating sleep will call to you but before that you whisper how much you love him. Your words quiet in the night, against his ruffled shirt.

He'll hear you all the same and it disarms him.

"I love you too, sweetheart. You have to learn to be more thoughtful of yourself. Can't have you dying on me, now can I?"

Astarion's voice velvet, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back.

In his comforting embrace your eyelids droop, the pain a distant throb that you wish to have pass. His cold chest soothing against your flushed, exhausted cheek.

He'll pull you even closer, if that's possible and kiss the crown of your head.

"Sleep now, darling. I'll be here with you. Always."

[ohsc]

hiii idk if you take requests for smut but if you do i have an idea for sam, i just think sam would be such a gentle lover with an inexperienced reader and it’d be so 🫠🫠🫠

delicate.

sam winchester x fem!reader, 4.1k, nsfw 18+, fingering, p in v, praise, size kink if you squint, somewhat softdom!sam, inexperienced!reader — requests are open

Sam knew to be delicate with her.

As his hands traced the outline of her body through her clothes, as he felt the heat of her mouth against his own, the weight of her settled in his lap as they made out, he knew to keep his touch gentle, his kisses passionate yet not overbearing.

A few days before the first time they’d had sex, she’d gotten out through the hands that she’d used to hide her blushing face that she really hadn’t done much sexually before. Nothing more than a few PG-13 make out sessions and above-clothes groping. It had taken her a while to admit it, she’d been so horribly embarrassed, but Sam sat and rubbed her back as he listened, because he didn’t ever want her to feel embarrassed with him about that stuff.

Alright, he wasn’t exactly a saint. He’d gone to college, hooked up a bit, had a girlfriend, and then had his fair share of nights with other women afterwards until he met Y/N, but he didn’t see her any differently for not having done those things. It didn’t sit well with him that she might’ve been worried about his reaction to her sex life, or lack thereof.

In all honesty, it just made him want to make it special for her, as horribly cliché as that sounded.

So a few days after that conversation, he’d taken her virginity. It hadn’t been all rose petals and tea-light candles and silk sheets, but he’d dressed up nicely and taken her to dinner, took her back to a nicer motel room than they usually resided in, and took his time with her. Got himself accustomed to her body, her reactions, what she liked and didn’t like, what made her breathing shudder and left her keening beneath him. Left her satisfied enough to fall asleep happily in his arms once they’d finished, left himself burning with pride that he’d made her feel so good.

It had been some months since that night, and whilst they’d had sex a few more times since the first — he’d slowly introduced her to new things, had her cum around his cock and his fingers and on his tongue (which was his personal favourite), atop and beneath him, in a bed and a shower and on a sofa — she was still pretty shy. Sam thought it was fucking attractive that he could get her blushing and panting from a few simple touches, but he still didn’t tease her about it. He made sure to take his time, not to overwhelm her or take things too fast than she was comfortable with. She was still pretty new to it all, he wanted her to enjoy it, not feel like it was stressful.

He could barely contain the groan that rumbled from the back of his throat as he felt her hands thread through his hair, her smaller fingers curled around the strands in a way that drove him crazy. Seeing her slowly edge out of her shell over the past few months had been so fucking enjoyable, even when it was just down to simple touches like that. Four months ago and she would’ve asked three times before even just touching his hair.

“God, sweetheart-” His fingers flexed against her waist and brought her as close as physically possible, her thighs warm against his where they bracketed them, her stomach pressed against his. The shitty motel mattress beneath them shifted slightly as they both moved, springs complaining under the shift in weight, but neither of them paid it any mind. “Love it when you get so needy.”

A huff of breath escaped her lips and she mumbled something indignant against his open mouth, and Sam let out a soft laugh, tipped his head back just slightly to look at her flushed-pink face.

“What was that?”

“I said don’t make fun.” She grumbled, eyes dipping down, and Sam felt as her fingers slowly started to retract from his hair.

“Ah-ah,” his hand lifted, lightly gripping one of her forearms to keep them there, before his head dipped down to press a chaste kiss to her inner elbow. “I’m not making fun, not at all,” his head tipped enough to press another kiss higher up her arm, until the soft cotton of her t-shirt brushed against his nose. “You should know how much I love you like this.”

His mouth finally reached her neck, and one of his hands slid up the length of her back to cup the base of her skull, and he slowly tipped her head back until the skin of her neck was a little more exposed. He didn’t miss the little breathy noises that escaped her as he kissed her neck, it made his cock twitch in his jeans, the denim suddenly far too tight.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he mumbled the words against her warm skin before his lips pressed to her pulse point, and he felt as her pulse drummed beneath her skin. He couldn’t help but smile against it as he lightly sucked the skin into his mouth, just enough to pull another gasp from the depths of her chest. “So pretty.”

“Sammy-” Her fingers were twitching in his hair, grasped lightly before she shifted in his lap a little, and he knew she was a little too worked up to keep up with the lighter touches. They’d been making out for a while now, it had slowly progressed from softer pecks and light giggles to that need that thrummed beneath their skin. He liked getting her properly worked up and ready for him.

He knew her body enough now to know that her restlessness meant she was exactly that. Ready.

Sam left one last kiss against her neck before he leaned back enough to look at her face, and with a much more loving kiss against her mouth, he lightly tugged at one of her belt loops and mumbled, “Wanna take these off for me, honey?”

She didn’t really hesitate and nodded, before she climbed off of his lap to take off her trousers, let the material fall to the floor before she’d climbed back in his lap again, and the sight of her straddling his thighs in just her panties and t-shirt was enough for his cock to throb.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Sam all but groaned as he leaned forwards to kiss her again. As his tongue probed at her bottom lip before it dipped into her mouth and licked behind her teeth, one of his hands gripped her hip, his other smoothed up the warm bare skin of her thigh before he cupped her sex through the cotton of her underwear, felt her warmth and her wetness, her light gasp into his open mouth at the touch. “All worked up for me, baby?”

She nodded dumbly, and a soft little gasp was pushed from her mouth as he slowly traced her through the wet fabric. “Please-”

“Shh, I know,” he pressed his lips to her cheek, her jaw, the side of her neck. “I know, just relax, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Sam’s fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her panties before he nudged two of his fingers through her folds, and as the warmth and the slick of her arousal coated them, his cock throbbed harder. “You’re already so wet for me,” he all but groaned into her neck as he started slowly rubbing her clit with the pads of his fingers. “So fucking perfect.”

Sam lived for the way she shuddered and gasped in his lap, the way he felt her fingers grip the material of his shirt as she tipped forwards slightly, her head rested against his. Though little gasped breathy noises were escaping her, she was still pretty quiet. Being noisy when they were having sex was something he knew she was shy about, but Sam didn’t urge her to be louder. He knew if he brought it up, it’d be all she’d think about, and he really didn’t want her to get in her own head about it. He much preferred letting her explore what she was comfortable with as he touched her, let her breathe her own reactions to the stimulation he provided until she was comfortable doing more.

This was all for her, after all.

Sam kissed and nibbled and sucked at her skin for a while as he paid close attention to her clit, switched from lazy circles with his fingers to long strokes against the length of them, until he and her and her underwear were completely soaked with her wetness. He didn’t try to move further until she was almost trembling in his lap, her hands grasped at his shoulders as she gasped and whimpered in response to his insistent rubbing.

His fingers lifted from her clit to press a little further into her underwear, and pressed the tip of his pointer finger against her entrance, holding it there as he murmured, “Is this okay?”

Y/N nodded immediately, and breathed out a “Please,” that sounded so deliciously needy that it took all he had not to cum in his fucking pants.

Sam slowly pushed his finger into her, felt the warmth and the tightness of her wet cunt around him, and fuck did he need to work her open a little before she’d be ready to take his cock.

His eyes flickered up to watch her expression as he slowly pumped his finger inside of her, and it was like fucking art the way she straddled his thighs, her hands grasped onto his shoulders, eyes half-lidded and lips parted enough to let out the soft breathy moans and whimpers every time his finger shifted to hit a spot inside of her that made her body shudder. He could watch her like that forever, could burn the image into his eyelids and happily stare at it any time he closed his eyes.

If that was her reaction to one finger, the thought of how she’d react to his cock fucking into her was enough to make him see stars.

When he added a second finger she keened and groaned, and the sound was so fucking good that Sam wanted to keep it, file it away in his brain to play whenever he wanted, whenever he needed to get himself off quickly in the shower on mornings he woke up with a hard on. It’d do the trick, Sam thought as he crooked his fingers inside of her and dragged out a replica of the first groan, it’d have him cumming in seconds.

Sam worked her open with his fingers until she was a mess, until all he heard was her blissful noises and the lewd wetness every time his fingers thrusted back inside of her. His free hand, which had been pressed against the small of her back to keep her close, lifted and cupped her face, and the fingers inside of her slowed to a lazy pace as he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You wanna be on top, baby?”

She didn’t really respond. She’d gotten like this a few times, worked up and blissful to the point where she got a little lost, a little dazed. Sam’s thumb lightly pressed beneath her jaw and he tipped her head up, and the glassy look in her eyes was all he needed to see to know she needed to be brought back into herself.

“Hey,” his thumb stroked along her jaw a little firmly to ground her as his fingers stilled inside of her. “You with me, sweetheart?”

Y/N blinked, her lips parting with a soft breath before she mumbled, “Hm? Yeah, I’m-” She took a second breath. “Sorry-“

“Hey, no,” Sam shook his head, and slowly pulled his fingers out of her as he kissed her forehead. “Don’t apologise, you’re okay. Just breathe a moment.”

As she did as she was told and took some breaths, Sam never ceased the gentle rubbing of his thumb against her jaw. His eyes never left her face, he watched for any signs of discomfort, that she wanted to stop.

“You okay?”

She nodded, humming. “M’okay, I swear.”

“Still want to keep going?”

Again, she nodded. “Please.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Sam pressed a soft kiss against her lips, before he leaned back to look at her as he repeated his original question, “Do you want to be on top?”

He saw the moment she blushed, overcome with shyness once again. “I… whatever you want-”

“No,” Sam briefly kissed her again. “What do you want?”

She paused, and really seemed to think about it that time, before she whispered, “Can you?”

“Can I what? Be on top?”

She nodded.

Sam kissed her again. “Of course.”

He moved his hands to her hips to help her off of his lap, and once she was sat staring up at him, hands planted on the mattress behind her somewhat to keep herself held up, Sam stood up to shed himself of his jeans, and watched as Y/N stripped herself of her shirt and Christ, he thought it was hot undressing her himself, but he could watch her do it for hours.

When they were both stripped naked Sam climbed over her on the bed. The mattress squeaked it’s protest beneath them again as he settled over her, and Sam couldn’t help but close the distance to kiss her again. Her mouth was warm against his and he groaned into it as his body pressed down against hers, pretty much covering her completely. His hips pressed into hers, his hard cock slid through her folds easily with how wet she was, and she felt the shudder that ran through her at the movement.

He reached down with his free hand and gripped the base of his cock, and slowly dragged his head through her folds, nudging her clit and back down, collecting her slick wetness on himself until she was gasping and tipping her hips upwards beneath him, and Christ what a fucking sight that was.

Sam dipped his head down enough to kiss her softly, and mumbled into her mouth, “Still want to?”

Y/N nodded immediately, her breaths hot and heavy as she exhaled against his mouth. “Uh-huh, yes- please-”

“Okay, baby, alright,” he kissed her once more. “I’ve got you.”

Using the hand he had gripped at the base of his cock, Sam lined himself up against her entrance before he tipped his hips forwards, slowly pushed the head of his cock inside of her, and he was barely inside of her when she clenched around him, and he almost fell onto her as a shiver wracked through his spine. “Fuck-”

The sounds she were making were beautiful, the little gasps and whimpers that swirled his mind in a delicious arousal that threatened to swallow him whole.

Sam took his time to push all the way inside of her. Even though he’d taken his time working her open with his fingers, she was still tight, and Sam wasn’t exaggerating or bragging, but he knew that he was big. He could see just from the blissed out look on her face that he was filling her up completely, and the sight alone almost made him cum before he’d even completed his first thrust.

He bottomed out and groaned, dipped his head down to mouth kisses against her throat as he stilled himself, just to allow her to adjust to the stretch. His words were a little strained as he breathed out, “Need a moment?”

He felt her nod, and from where he was mouthing his way up her neck, he felt the almost ragged rise and fall of her chest beneath him, her bare skin brushing against his own, and he could feel the warmth almost damp-with-sweat skin, her hardened nipples brushed against his chest with each inhale. She was perfect. Completely and utterly. He loved that he could get her like that — that she trusted him enough to get her like that.

After her neck had been littered with kisses once more and she’d had the time to breathe through the stretch of him sunken in her pussy, Sam felt her shifting beneath him slightly, her hips tilted as if she was trying to get him to move, and Sam couldn’t help the soft groan that built in the back of his throat. Y/N still wasn’t so good with words yet, asking for what she wanted or expressing her opinion unless he coaxed her into it, but God he loved it when she did that, coaxed him with her body, with a sinful shift of her hips.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Sam shifted his hips, pulling out slightly to slowly thrust back in, and his gut clenched at the noise she let out. “You’re so tight-” he clenched his teeth as he thrusted again, felt the way her warmth clenched around him like a fucking vice. “Feels so good for me.”

Sam kept with the slow deep thrusts, revealed in the drag of his cock against her walls, the way she keened and gasped beneath him whenever his head nudged against the spongy spot inside of her that he knew made her head spin. He took his time unraveling her beneath him, watched as her eyes rolled back and her lips parted with soft little breathy gasps each time his cock nudged deeper inside of her, sinful wet noises accompanied with each thrust.

“Sammy-” her voice was so whiny when she tangled her fingers in his hair again, and the slight tug on the roots made him groan, his own breathing ragged with each thrust.

Though when she took his reaction the wrong way, Sam felt her fingers retract from his hair, and he paused his movements to reach up and grasp her forearm lightly like he had done before, and kept her hand there. “Don’t do that.”

She blinked up at him, eyes fucking blown out with lust as she panted slightly. “But-”

Sam almost huffed a laugh as he realised that he had to spell it out for her. “I like it,” he mouthed a kiss at her jaw, wet and lazy. “Pull as hard as you want. Don’t be so shy, baby.”

When he started thrusting again she whined and gripped onto his hair tighter, in such a way that made his cock throb inside of her and his breathing stutter, and a strangled groan escaped him as he kissed her throat again.

“That’s it,” he panted, and sped up just slightly as she clenched around him a bit more frequently, she was close. “That’s it, there we go, good girl-” Sam grunted, exhaled hard against her throat as his forehead tucked against her neck. “Taking me so well-”

On a particular deep thrust of his hips she whimpered, tugged on his hair just a little harder, and Sam knew her well enough by that point to know what it meant.

“You feel close, baby?”

“Uh-huh-” she sounded pretty wrecked, all breathy as she panted and whimpered beneath him. “I’m-” Y/N sucked in a sharper breath through her teeth. “I’m gonna- oh, I can’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam leaned back slightly to look down at her face when he heard as she got a little worked up again, and his hand reached up to cup her jaw, her cheek flushed and warm beneath his palm. “Easy, sweetheart. What do you need?”

She was blinking through the hazy bliss he knew was swimming through her entire body. “Can-” she breathed in again, and tilted her head to kiss his wrist softly, and if he hadn’t been fucking into her in that exact moment his heart would’ve burst with softness. “Can you do what you did last time? Please?”

Sam almost fucking came at the memory right then. A few times now she’d gotten a bit worked up when she came close to cumming and hadn’t been able to get there so easily, so the last time it had happened he’d helped he’d through it by rubbing her clit as he fucked her into her orgasm. And Sam still thought about the reaction he’d gotten, the face she’d made as she shuddered through her orgasm. He’d been dying to pull that reaction out of her again.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” his voice was hoarse and his breathing was ragged, and he mouthed more kisses against her throat. “Just breathe for me, okay? Let it happen.”

Sam kept one hand braced beside her head to keep himself held up above her, whilst his other moved between them until his fingers found her clit, slickened with her arousal that was soaking the both of them. The angle of his arm was a bit weird, but if it meant getting her there, it was perfect for him.

Y/N moaned, her back arched off of the mattress, and her grip on him was so tight it took all he had to hold himself off.

“There we go, that’s it,” Sam grunted into her neck, fingering tight little circles onto her clit as he continued to thrust into her, dragging the length of his cock at an angle that he knew left her shaking. “Such a good girl, fuck-” he inhaled through his teeth and groaned. “Want you to cum for me, baby, wanna hear those pretty noises.”

It didn’t take much. After a few more thrusts and undivided attention on her clit she came, hard, a breathless moan left her lips as she shuddered and clenched around him, her pussy pulsed in such a blissful way that Sam couldn’t even fucking help himself and he came with her. He moaned into her throat as he worked them both through their respective climaxes, and rutted against her a few more times before he groaned softly and rested his weight on top of her, his cock still inside of her as they both fought to catch their breath.

“Oh god baby,” Sam mouthed lazy wet kisses against her throat again, and his hand moved from her clit, flattening against the soft skin of her stomach and smoothing upwards until he could cradle her jaw in his hand. “You were so good for me,” he dropped another kiss. “So sweet,” another kiss. “So perfect.”

Her fingers had loosened in his hair, and instead she had just hooked her arm around his neck, kept him close to herself. She still breathed deeply, her skin was flushed and damp with sweat, her legs trembled slightly either side of his hips — she was so fucking pretty.

“You feel okay, sweetheart?” Sam tipped his head back enough to look down at her face, flushed pink, baby hairs stuck to her forehead with sweat. He lifted up his hand to brush them out of her face, before he smoothed the pad of his thumb over the hot skin of her cheek.

She nodded, and when her eyes met his, he saw the tiredness that had crept into her expression, the way her eyelids fluttered and she laid lax and practically boneless atop the mattress.

“Yeah?” He cupped her jaw again and tipped her chin up a little with his thumb. “Wanna talk to me?”

“I’m good, felt really good,” she mumbled, and one of her hands lifted to lightly wrap her fingers around the wrist of the hand he cupped her jaw with. “You’re… you make it really nice. Thank you.”

Sam chuckled softly, and dipped his head down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t need to thank me, sweetheart,” he kissed her again, before he murmured softly, “I’m gonna pull out, okay?”

Only after she’d nodded did he shift his hips again and pulled out slowly, and when he heard the way her breathing hitched, felt her little shudder, he lightly smoothed his hand over her stomach again. “Easy,” he murmured, voice soothing as he rubbed circles into her soft skin. “You okay?”

She hummed a little, blushing. “Just sensitive.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Sam tipped his head down again and captured her lips in a soft loving kiss, and took his time with it, rubbed calming circles into her skin for the duration of the kiss before he slowly pulled away and looked down at her pretty face. “I’m gonna go get a towel to clean you up, okay?”

Y/N smiled a little fondly as she nodded. “Okay.”

Sam kissed her once more before he finally pushed himself up and off of her, off of the bed entirely. But partway to the bathroom he paused and turned to face her, “Hey?”

She looked up, humming.

“I love you.”

Sam watched as she completely softened, watched as the soft little smile reserved for him crept onto her face, curling the corners of her mouth upwards. “Love you too.”

[dira333]

The Soulmate Theory - Todoroki Shouto x Reader

I welcome you to my probably last-ever Soulmate fic. As much as I love reading this trope, it's gotten harder and harder to write. I hope you like it. This is for @shoulmate

Trope: You share your Soulmate's pain.

Soulmates used to be a thing. 

A long, long time ago, way before the first ever Quirk was documented, Soulmate bonds were just as common as Quirks are nowadays.

Your grandmother used to be fascinated by it, told you stories about her grandmother who was convinced she shared a soulmate bond even though not one case had been documented in the last hundred years before her.

It’s only natural, you’d say, that you didn’t realize you had one. After all, why would you think that?

-

Pain has always been part of your life.

Your wrists hurt and your legs hurt and your back hurts and your stomach hurts… all the time. The doctors cannot find anything, some even accuse you of pretending for attention. You’d gladly trade all that attention against a pain-free day.

Your Quirk’s Telekinesis and you’re so glad about it, because how else would you be able to move that pen and write that notes when your hands hurt like this?

You’re getting better at it too, threading a needle or picking up the last grain of rice with your thoughts alone. 

-

A dull ache has settled behind your left eye after what has been the most intense pain flare you’ve ever had. All you want to do is rest. 

But your mind is reeling, craving an outlet for all the thoughts inside your head.

Your restless eyes find some fabric in the corner of the room. Soon enough a few needles are working their magic, a creation coming to life before your eyes.

You might not be able to walk around most days, but at least you can still create outfits you’d love to flaunt in.

-

Years later

-

“Can you take over my student?” Kameko asks, “He wants a completely new costume.”

“What year?”

“First year. And his old one wasn’t even destroyed.”

“So? Maybe he found something out about himself.”

She huffs. “Please? I still have to finish Amajiki’s new design and you know how anxious he gets.”

“Yeah, no problem. Can you take another first year off my plate then? His name is Midoriya and he ripped it in half, it seems.”

“Oh yeah, give it to me.”

Someone clears their throat. You look up from your work into a set of heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one grey.

“Yes?” You ask. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for my new Costume.”

“Are you Midoriya?” You point at the green fabric on your desk, or rather what’s left of the costume.”

“No, I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Ah,” Kameko doesn’t even look guilty at being caught. “You’re with her then. Do you need the think tank?” She points at the cubicle where you can go and plan outfits.

Todoroki looks like he isn’t quite sure, so you carefully slide off your chair and shuffle over.

“Come, come,” you wave at him, “It’s never wrong to brainstorm.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks and has the decency not to point at how you clearly favor your left leg. 

“Not more than usual,” you try to joke and though he looks a little confused, he doesn’t ask more questions.

.

Todoroki is a quiet individual. He’s not shy, that you perceive immediately, but he makes sure to check if he’s allowed to speak before he opens his mouth.

He’s also insanely pretty, the red, rough skin over his left eye giving him even more appeal. But he’s also one year younger than you, so you keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head.

“If you want to change the design, we can do that, no problem.” You remind him when you’ve finally found something he seems almost happy with.

“I don’t want to cause you more work.”

“If you don’t cause me any work I’d have nothing to do,” you joke and he looks at you quietly for a while. You wonder if he’s ruminating over your joke or waiting for you to talk on and sadly, you’re more than likely to ramble in a confusing silence.

You gesture, somehow now talking about the importance of fresh orange juice for the human body, a topic you didn’t even know you could talk about beforehand when your hand connects harshly with the door behind you. Your wrist catches the doorknob and the pain is immediate, sharp and cool, like you’d imagine being stabbed with an icicle would feel like.

Todoroki hisses behind you and you’d compliment him on the empathy if it wouldn’t hurt like that.

When you turn, hand pressed against your chest, he’s cradling his own hand before dropping it. “Musclespasm,” he explains quietly, offering you a hand that is covered in ice. “Do you want me to cool it? It helps.”

-

“I’d like to add some more details to my costume,” Todoroki approaches you with a Bento Box in hand.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment as you focus your Quirk on a particularly tough seam.

“No problem, as I said. What’s it about?”

“Could we use the think tank?”

You turn to check but it’s clearly occupied.

“Sadly not. Is it more complicated then?” You nod at the Bento Box. “Do you think it will keep us occupied during lunch break?”

“No, this is…” Todoroki hesitates for a second before holding it out to you. “It’s just something I wanted to give you. My sister made these.”

 You open it with curious fingers to reveal twelve perfectly shaped cookies.

“That’s lovely, but why me?”

His cheeks turn pink and his lips curl into an adorable pout before he eventually talks.

“I mentioned that I was pleased with the changes and she told me to say thank you.”

“Aww,” you coo. “Your older sister then?”

“Yes,” the pout exaggerates, “I would have said thank you without her intervening.”

“Of course you’d have.” - “But my cookies didn’t turn out good.”

You both speak at the same time, or rather you accidentally interrupted him and he still talked on.

You stare at him now, mouth agape as you process his words.

“You made cookies for me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki nods, “I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.”

“I still want to say thank you.”

“Next time,” you joke, not quite realizing what you’re saying until it has left your lips and your brain has caught on, “just bring me the Cookies you made. It’s the thought that counts.”

He stares at you with wide eyes for what feels like eternity before a soft pink blush blooms on his cheeks.

You hide your own face in the box of Cookies, hope that he won’t hear the thunderous beating of your heart over the noise of you eating one.

They’re delicious. Of course they are.

-

You don’t know how or when or even why, but clearly, there’s a friendship growing between you and Todoroki Shouto. He’s stopped claiming he’s only dropping in for new additions to his costumes and in turn you’ve tried quite a few of his food creations, each one of them worse than the last.

But he’s cute and honest and real about it and you couldn’t do better if you tried anyway.

Your pain, however, doesn’t stop just because you’ve found work you enjoy or friends to spend your time with.

There are days where you cannot get out of bed. Days where strong painkillers allow you to get to school only for everything to go past you because those painkillers leave you loopy and tired, falling asleep over some costume in the early afternoon hours.

At least you’re not in the Hero Course, you think on the worst days, because you’ve seen the bruises Training leaves on Shouto’s arms and legs.

That’s before you realize that Training is the least of all his problems.

-

Third Year

“How are you?” You ask, because what else do you ask your Crush Slash Good Friend you haven’t seen in months?

Shouto’s got new scars, he’s grown, and he’s fought in a war while you were bedridden from pain, your mother scared out of her depths that you’d die in an attack, unable to move.

But you survived and so did he and if you can believe what you’ve heard on the news, he’s found out some things about his family too.

“Tired,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair, “I missed you.”

You wonder how hard it was for him to admit that. 

 “Think tank?” You ask, slipping off your chair when he nods.

The last few days have been painless and even though you’re anxious about what’s to come after that, you can’t help but enjoy it.

When the door closes after him, you realize just how small that cubicle really is. 

Or maybe it’s just that Shouto doesn’t step away like he used to do, staying so close to you that you could count every single one of his long lashes if you wanted to.

“Can I hug you?” He asks and you nod, unable to say anything, even less when he pulls you in.

He’s tall and strong, cool on one side and warm on the other and your face nuzzles into his neck like it was meant to be like that anyway.

You don’t speak for a while, just hold each other in the semi-privacy this room provides.

“I want to take care of you,” Shouto whispers at some point. “Can I?”

Somehow it doesn’t surprise anyone that you two end up dating.

-

Your third year is almost painless.

Sure, there are frequent days where you’re sore for no reason whatsoever, but that is nothing against the blinding pain that had tied you to a bed for weeks before. 

Sometimes, Shouto pouts about that. He thinks it’s his job as your boyfriend to look after you and what good is he for if you don’t need looking after?

His friends tell you that he’s less reckless now - as if he’d ever been - making sure to keep himself safe because you need him.

You’ve met his sister, one of his older brothers and his mother, all of them nice, though maybe a bit distanced. 

Emotional vulnerability doesn’t seem to come easy to them.

Shouto, however, likes to talk about his feelings in depth. And he wants to know how you’re feeling too, listening with wide eyes as you explain.

Should it be weird that you’re dating someone younger than you? If so, you’re doing it wrong. 

-

The first(?) hint

“Do we need anything from the store?” You ask, phone crammed between your ear and shoulder as you grab your stuff from the passenger seat.

“I was going to get the groceries,” Shouto huffs on the other side of the call and you can see it, how he pouts at the thought that you’re doing it instead of him.

“I was already on my way. You can do the laundry.”

“I hate doing the laundry,” he groans and you giggle. “I know. I’m going to help you with it, don’t worry.”

“I could cook,” he offers and you giggle again, opening the door to step out. “As much as I love you, Shouto, I don’t love your cooking.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding exactly like a child that didn’t get its way, “But we do face-masks while doing the laundry.”

“Of course. I’ll call you back later, okay? I need both hands for shopping.”

“Sure. I’ll buy you more headphones in the meantime.”

There are a few more teasing remarks, a last “I love you” and then you shove your phone back in your purse and turn to where you think the shopping carts are located.

You don’t see the step in front of you before it’s too late and then you’re tumbling through the air. It happens slowly and then all at once and you’re not really sure what hurt first and what hurts the most. 

For a moment you’re just lying there, face down on the pavement, trying not to puke, collecting your thoughts as if they scattered on your floor just like your open purse.

Your phone starts ringing and that seems the most manageable task so you pick it up from right in front of you and press it against your ear.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Love, are you okay?” Shouto sounds worried.

“No, I just tripped and fell,” you pick your head up from the asphalt and squint at your stuff in front of you, “in the middle of the parking lot.”

“Just after you hung up I felt a lot of pain and I just… I knew it was you.” 

-

It keeps happening after that.

It doesn’t help that you’re clumsy, but maybe that’s for the best now, as you try and figure out this weird coincidence.

If you hurt yourself, Shouto feels the pain.

If Shouto hurts himself, you feel the pain. 

It’s only after he almost gets buried by a collapsing building that you actually tell a Doctor. Or rather Midoriya unloads all the Data he has collected on the poor, unassuming Recovery Girl.

The most likely answer, as strange as it might sound, is the Soulmate Theory.

“Since you’re the first documented case in hundreds of years we don’t have anything to prove this theory. But I’m quite positive that more cases will follow.”

You blink back at her, not quite understanding. Shouto’s left hand, one of the few places of his that are not covered in bandages, squeezes yours.

“You know what that means, right?” He asks.

“Yeah. We’re most definitely never going to break up.”

His eyes widen in a way you’ve grown familiar with. No matter how long you’ve been dating, you still seem to be able to surprise him.

“No,” he presses out weakly, “I meant… That all the pain you went through as a child and teenager, that was me. It’s my fault.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the little spot above his eyebrows that has come away unscathed.

“I’m not saying it was nice, but if I could take at least a little bit of the pain you went through, I’d say it was worth it.”

-

You’re pretty sure Shouto would disagree, but in your eyes Soulmates are not quite as fancy as they’re made out to be.

After all, you found him on your own, didn’t you?

[draconic-desire]

DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #2 — The Wager

Aventurine knows your angry footsteps from a mile away as you shove your way through the Penaconian casino and straight to his table.

He has plenty of time to react, but he sits back in bemused silence as you slap his hand, sending aces and spades flying across the table and fluttering to the floor.

You are livid. Aventurine cannot help but chuckle at your adorable expressions as he begins to concoct a plan. After all, emotional betters tend to be reckless.

“Damn, and that was a good hand, too.”

You grit your teeth at his lackadaisical dismissal. “Screw your game. Are you going to tell me why there were IPC goons posted outside my apartment yet again this morning?”

He folds his hands and tilts his head innocently, a smirk painting his lips. “You assume I had something to do with that?”

“Don’t play dumb!” The rein on your temper is hanging on by a thread. You take a deep breath to reset yourself, then place both palms on the table to brace yourself. “What do you want?”

By this point, the others at the table have enough common sense to flee, leaving the two of you alone. The sounds of the slot machines and cheers of the casino-goers echo through the charged atmosphere between you.

“Darling, I think I’ve made that painstakingly obvious.” Before you can react, he grips one of your wrists and pulls you down so you are leaning across the table, face inches from his own. He runs a gloved finger along your cheek, licking his bottom lip. “Have you finally come to concede?”

You narrow your eyes but do not struggle—yet. “You fucking wish.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” he drawls, much to your chagrin. “If not to acquiesce to my desires, then what brings your lovely presence here? Care to take a seat?” He motions, of course, to his lap.

You inhale sharply and speak before you lose your courage, temper, or both. “I want to make a wager with you.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly; you’ve either surprised or excited him. Neither bode well for you.

“One game. We both know what we want from it.”

“Ah ah, I’ll need some clarification as to what I’m actually betting on,” Aventurine teases as he begins to reassemble the deck of cards, all while maintaining your eye contact.

Aeons, he’s actually going to make you spell it out. “I win, I get my out from you and the IPC. I get to leave Penacony and never look back. If I lose…” Your throat collapses for a moment before you spit out, “You win me.”

Aventurine releases you, leaning back in his chair. He grabs the newly formed deck of cards and begins shuffling. “I accept. But, since I have more to lose here—” You begin to protest, but he quickly tuts you into silence, “I will be the one choosing the game. Deal?” He extends his hand, golden rings glinting. You think you can hear the tick tick tick of his watch, counting down to your end.

You look over his expression, his body language, the smug smile. He’s hiding his ace, you can tell, but what choice do you have?

Slowly, you sink into the seat across from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs, reeling his hand in with an exaggerated pout. “In that case, we’ll be playing Maverick.”

Your accelerated heartbeat calms ever so slightly. That’s one game you’ve heard of. A game of pure luck rather than skill. You can work with that.

“The rules are simple.” He lays two cards, face down, in front of you. “Your goal is to guess a number that falls within these two cards. If you’re in the correct range? You walk out of this casino and never see me ever again.”

Your heart soars, but quickly falters when you spot the mischievous glint in his irises. “But, if you’re wrong and your number falls outside…” His thumb and index finger form the shape of a pistol, which he pretends to fire into your heart with a dramatic bang.

“Your heart is mine.”

No backing down.

He gestures between you and the cards, prompting you ahead. That smirk never falters.

Glancing between the two cards, you go with your gut. Defiantly holding his breathtaking blue and pink gaze, you speak aloud your favorite single digit number.

Aventurine hums and flips both cards simultaneously.

Two king of spades stare back at you mockingly.

“Looks like I win.”

[littlejuicebox]

The Little Things

Summary: Sometime in Act 1, Astarion is beginning to realize he may like you more than he thought.

Tags/Warnings: pure fluff, feelings realization, sexual innuendo, in game spoilers

*

Astarion’s nice, simple plan is falling apart at the seams. He isn’t quite sure when it began or how you slowly wormed your way into his heart like the parasite wormed its way into his brain.

He thinks it must have started shortly after the night you two spent together in the clearing. Perhaps the day you drew his scars for him in the dirt?

You notice the little things about him, and it flusters him entirely. No one else has ever bothered to pay attention long enough to catch all the subtleties you seem to see without missing a beat.

*

You notice he makes tea but never drinks it. It tastes like dirty water on his vampiric tongue, but he loves the smell and the warmth. One day you bring him a cup of tea and urge him to try it.

“This one will be different, I promise.” You say, and you smile at him so sweetly it’s impossible to refuse.

He quirks a brow but obliges. One small sip reveals that this tea is palatable… in fact, it’s actually enjoyable.

“What’s in this? Better not be a sore attempt at poisoning me.” He murmurs with a playful smirk before taking another long sip of the warm liquid.

You grin and show him your finger, where the smallest pinprick can be seen.

Blood. Of course.

His face feels hot, like patches of warmth are spreading across his cheeks. It must be the tea.

“Clever pup,” He chuckles, “I— thank you.”

*

One day you’re simply walking by him in camp, returning from a quick foraging trip in the woods. He’s perched upon a stool, reading a book, and drinking the remnants of his morning tea you’d brought to him just over an hour ago.

It’s a lovely little treat every morning. He’s secretly delighted every time you bring it by.

You pause and smile, “Enjoying your book?”

He hums a soft yes and dog ears the page before clasping it shut to acknowledge you.

“Quite, darling. And you? Enjoying your… digging in the mud?” He asks, cocking his head just slightly as he examines the small basket of potatoes you’d procured from the earth.

“It’s not so bad,” You laugh, and then your eyes flicker to his book, “Oh, I almost forgot.”

You rustle through your bag and withdraw a thin strip of burgundy fabric, offering it to him.

Astarion takes the gift. It’s a bookmark. There’s a delicate letter A stitched in gold thread at the top of the small trinket. He’d spent a few hours last week showing you how to sew and embroider little details.

“I noticed you always fold the corners of the pages, and Gale is always grumbling about it when you return his books, so…” You shrug and smile again, “Plus, it’s a small thank you. For the sewing lessons.”

His face feels hot again. It must be the tea. Again.

“Ah, yes. I shall be sure to use it now, then. Don’t want to risk angering the wizard and getting us all blown up!” He jokes as he places the bookmark atop his book, mostly as an excuse to break away from your gaze, which is causing him to feel flustered. He doesn’t know why.

You laugh softly and step closer to him, “It’s not as good as your work.”

You absentmindedly take his hand and turn it, revealing the inner sleeve of his shirt. Your fingers trace along the cuff, admiring a piece of his own embroidery he’d done a few days ago.

“I saw you stitched these little flowers on your shirt the other day. Can you show me how to do that?” You ask, bringing your eyes back up to meet his.

He swallows. Your hand is still resting upon his wrist.

“O-of course, darling. Anytime.” He responds, still thrown. How had you noticed that? His skin tingles from where your fingers had grazed against him.

But it isn’t a bad sensation. He quite liked it, actually.

You grin and then hoist your basket back up before bidding goodbye and walking over to show Gale your harvest. Astarion is left befuddled and simply staring as you walk away.

*

That same night you’re by the campfire, and Astarion is showing you how to stitch small flowers on a scrap of cloth. You’re leaning over his shoulder, watching his work intently. The proximity is making his fingers fumble more than they usually would, but you don’t seem to notice.

“You filed your nails today,” You remark, absently, as you watch his skilled fingers work their creative magic.

He blinks and pauses mid-stitch.

His nails? You noticed the length of his nails?

“I wasn’t aware they were so obscenely long that it would be so obvious.” He responds, his nose wrinkling just slightly. Perhaps his standards of cleanliness and appearance had fallen in the wilds.

“Oh, it’s not that,” You reply, your tone almost dreamy as you continue to observe the rogue, “I just look at your hands a lot.”

Astarion’s finger slips and he pierces himself with the needle. He winces slightly as he withdraws the sliver from his hand.

“I— what?” He asks, pausing his work to assess you with wide, blinking eyes.

You hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud. You’d been entranced and disarmed by the steady rhythm of his hands and the smell of Astarion’s freshly washed skin.

He’d started a new bar of soap today. You could tell because he smelled different when he returned from the river. You’d complimented the new fragrance and he’d stared at you for a moment too long, eyebrows furrowed. You worried you’d somehow offended him. And then he laughed and made some innuendo-filled joke about cleanliness being next to godliness.

He’s waiting for you to respond, the metal sliver of a needle held at rest between his thumb and forefinger.

“I…” You start, and you feel a blush creep across your face, “You have pretty hands.”

You finish the statement lamely and with a small shrug.

One, two, three beats of silence.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes are staring into your own; he’s thinking… deeply.

Before you process what’s happening, the rogue has already abandoned his project in the dirt and brought both his hands to cup your face, plunging forward to press a kiss against your lips. His tongue slides into your mouth, urgently dancing against your own.

You two hadn’t been physical since the night of the Tiefling party. He hadn’t propositioned you again, and you were far too nervous to attempt propositioning him. You are entirely caught off guard by his advances but eagerly receive his affections anyway.

When Astarion finally breaks away from you, his face is hot. He knows it isn’t the tea this time.

He wants to show you what else he can do with his pretty hands.

[shalomniscient]

[nsft utc] (jane doe x reader)

“c’mon, how ‘bout we try again, sweetheart?”

you lean back in the interrogation chair, one arm on the armrest, the other on her waist. your hand on the armrest has her tail wrapped around your knuckles like a cord, and you have the base of her tip pinched gently between two fingers to prevent her from doing anything naughty like trying to nick you. though, you don’t really think she has quite enough brain capacity for mischief at the moment, stuffed full of your cock as she is.

jane makes a strangled, huffing noise, nails digging into your shoulders through your detective’s coat. her pretty teal eyes are half-lidded, and a delicate flush sits on her pale cheeks. her shorts are discarded somewhere, and you’ve conveniently created a nice hole in her leggings to access her pretty cunt. the fact that jane herself had decided to forgo underwear is a bonus—or maybe something she planned as well.

“don’t know what you mean, detective,” she breathes, rocking her hips again, or at least trying to. you hold her in place with a firm hand, keeping her still, and a petulant noise slips from her lips. you chuckle lightly, then without warning, snap your hips up roughly. jane yelps, then moans, eyes rolling back she she squeezes tight around you.

“sure you do, sweetheart,” you coo, lazily shifting your hips. the sheer size of you ensures that each of your movements hits at least one of her sweet spots every time, creating an almost endlessly pleasurable experience for as long as she sits on your cock. “you wanna stop lyin’ to me?”

she laughs, and the look in her eye turns dangerous, challenging. it makes a thrill run through you, your veins lighting up both with oxytocin and adrenaline. her fingers thread in the hair at the base of your neck, giving a sharp tug to make you look up at her. “what makes you think you deserve the truth?”

“bit of a spitfire today, ain’tcha?” you muse, unbothered by her little display. your hand on her waist shifts a little lower and your thumb brushes her swollen, neglected clit, and she’s nearly immediately folding, muscles in her abdomen jumping and a throaty moan spilling from her lips. you pair it with another slow roll of your hips, and she cries out, her eyes nearly disappearing into her skull. “but ‘s alright, sweetheart. we got a few hours before anyone comes knockin’, and that’s enough time for me to get ya to confess, ain’t it?”

it’s a rhetorical question. she opens her mouth to answer, undoubtedly with some smartass thing, but you fuck up into her before she can and her words break on a squeak of pleasure. and this time, you really get going, one hand holding her down and ensuring she sinks onto your cock all the way each time while your hips ruthlessly piston into her. her thighs tremble from the impact, and you think idly that it’s a shame you don’t have her bent over the interrogation table like last time so you can see the way her cute ass shakes with each thrust. ah, no matter. there’s always next time.

you focus back on railing her absolutely senseless, your thumb toying with her clit as you go. jane’s fingers tighten in your hair, her head thrown back in pleasure, and you take the opportunity to lean forward and seal your lips on her chest, even through the thin fabric of her top. jane whines when your tongue laps at her stiff nipple, coaxing it to hardness through her clothing. her back arches, and she pushes more of her breast into your mouth. you tend to her almost hungrily, giving each tit the same amount of attention until you feel her squeezing even tighter around you. then you draw back with a wet smack, grinning like a cat who got the cream.

“gonna cum, sweetheart? wanna finally be honest with me?”

teal eyes meet yours, and you still see the hint of challenge in them. in response, you slow down ever so slightly, and suddenly they’re widening, defiance giving way to desperation as she rapidly shakes her head, bouncing on your lap to not lose the stimulation. “n-no, please,” she manages, still trying to ride you, “fuck, baby, don’t stop— don’t you dare stop—“

“tell me what i wanna hear, sweetheart, and i’ll let you cum,” you coo, holding her in place, and you know if jane had her tail free she’d probably strangle you. instead she just looks at you with glossy eyes as she rides you, plush bottom lip trembling.

“no one— no one fucks me like you do,” she confesses, burying her head in the crook of your neck. “need you so bad, baby, this fucking assignment— haven’t been fucked in weeks and i need it—“

you soothe her with a kiss to her temple and another hard rut of your hips. “see? wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it? let me take care of you now, darlin’.”

and take care of her you do. you release her tail in favor of gently wrapping your arms around her as you fuck into her, holding her close to you. she’s small, and fits perfectly against your form. jane’s tail slithers down to wrap around your leg, and you chuckle at her unspoken need for closeness. you kiss the side of her face, her neck, her shoulder as you fuck your cock in and out of her dripping cunt, until her teeth sink into your shoulder and she cums with a strangled cry. you grunt as she squeezes you like a vise, eagerly drawing whatever you have to give her. you’d been backed up yourself, and your cum ends up leaking out of the seal her pussy forms around your base.

you sigh and lean back in the chair, carding your fingers through her hair. “you alright, sweetheart? need some water?”

jane shudders, and then her lips press against your pulse point. she shifts a little, making both of you hiss at the slight overstimulation, but then she presses closer against you. you hum and run a hand up and down her back soothingly.

“missed you,” she murmurs, her voice small and raw and honest in a way you know is reserved for you. for as much as jane loves toying with her prey, she isn’t infallible or immune to her own heart. and neither are you—hence why when zhu yuan took her in on the pretext of an interrogation, you’d commandeered it immediately. you deal with CIs anyway, so it was fine.

“missed you too, sweetheart,” you whisper back. “always.”

in about half an hour, you’ll pretend to leave the door unlocked and she’ll pretend to escape, and then you’ll both pretend to not know each other until the day jane brings all her criminals to light, and you’ll be there to cuff every last one of them. but until then, you hold your wife close to your heart, where she should be.

[somerandomdudelmao]

Okay okay hear me out.

We all know that Donnie was devastated to discover what happened to his brothers. But in light of the most recent update, new meaning has been added to the panels of him watching their deaths' play out.

Look at him here. At first glance, it simply seemed that Donnie was grieving the loss of his brothers. "We lost. They're all gone. My dumb dumb brothers sacrificed themselves. I'm alone."

BUT after today's update, we realize that NOOO he's not just regretting that they're gone, he's BLAMING HIMSELF. Not only is he sad, he feels GUILT.

Looking back, his face clearly says, "I could have stopped it. I could have saved them. I failed. This is my fault."

"If I had been with you, the outcome might have been better." What hurts is that Don is RIGHT. He WAS the keystone of the resistance. Everything does indeed fall apart soon after he's gone (hence the episode name). It's a cruel, ironic twist on Survivor's Guilt-- because in that timeline he didn't survive. He was gone. And he blames himself for being gone.

We often talk about Future Leo's guilt over the apocalypse, but Future Donnie's guilt is not to be taken lightly. It actually makes a LOT of sense for him to blame himself for his family's deaths. We know that all dear Donton has ever wanted is validation for his tech, and his tech is his way of expressing to his family that he loves them. Ergo, all Donnie wants is to make tech to protect his family to Show Them That He Loves Them.

This is probably why he opened up to Raph, all but admitting his guilt over the less-than-perfect security system: it was like saying he and his love failed to protect them for long.

The character analysis deepens~

Here (and throughout all of The Little Things, really) we see him taking steps to make sure his brothers (and the resistance) will be taken care of. Delegating everything, even The Little Things (ah HA) all to ensure that all he does for them (to prove his love, of course) continues to happen.

Even here, when Donnie has been hanging onto life for so long that the Kraang are shocked he's still alive, Donnie wants to help. He could not "sit here and listen to them get killed," because he is Donatello, and he loves his family. Cass, you said it yourself: Violence is his love language. Rushing into battle, decimating the Kraang, saving his family. Because he may be dying, he may be clinging to life by a few threads, but he is Hamato Donatello and he loves his family.

But in the end, that's what he does. In the end, he DOES sit there and watch them get killed. Watches with his very own tech. One. By. One. They. Die. And deep down, Donnie thinks that if he would have been there, he could have found a way to make a generator NOT from Raph's heart. That he could have supported Mikey enough to keep him from disintegrating. That he could have protected Leo in those final, self sacrificial moments.

Donatello blames himself for not being there for his brothers. He blames himself for his tech not being flawless enough. He blames himself for dying on them.

Which is why he won't rest until they're ALL back home.

He is Mr. "I Can Fix This", so of COURSE he's going to fix this.

And afterwards, when his family is SAFE and HOME and TOGETHER he's going to apologize for "letting them die" and he's FINALLY going to get some SENSE knocked into his OWN dumb dumb brain (probably by Dr. Delicate Touch). His brothers love him because he's DONNIE. I cannot WAIT for the moment when they make him realize that they didn't miss his tech, they missed HIM. He's gonna realize just how utterly loved he is and I'm so excited for you, Cass, to show us that moment.

(I apologize; this got out of hand quickly, but the analysis has been bouncing around my head all day and I NEEDED to share it)

OH THIS IS ONE GREAT ANALYSIS RIGHT HERE

[a-killer-obsession]

Pretty Boy [Killer x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

You get more than you bargained for when Killer is dared to let you take photos of him in some special jewellery. Inspired by this post.

CW: sub!killer, afab reader, smut, use of horse crop, light bdsm, praise kink, oral sex (giving and receiving), p in v sex, creampie, face sitting

WC: ~3.5k

Masterlist || A03

“Okay Kil!” Quincy slurred, wobbling in place in a drunken haze, “Your turn! Truth or dare?”

“I never agreed to this game,” he grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink with the straw that threaded through a hole in his mask.

“What, you a fuckin’ coward Kil?” Kid laughed. Killer made a small growl-like sound under his mask and relented, nobody was calling him a coward.

“Fine, dare,” he replied. Quincy squealed in delight.

“You gotta let [y/n] dress you up and take photos!” She clapped, chuffed with herself.

“Quincy!” You snapped back at her, almost choking on your drink in surprise.

“Ah, ah,” she tutted, waggling a very drunk finger, “remember that jewellery you found last raid?”

Fucking Quincy, she was right, Killer would look so fucking good in it, but she was absolutely also doing this because she knew you had hots for the first mate.

“Hang on now, what are we talking?” Killer asked nervously.

“Don't worry baby, I won't make you take the mask off,” you replied, trying to feign confidence but at the same time really fucking anxious about this whole thing, “but you gotta take your shirt off, to show off the jewellery of course”

Killer grumbled as he thought about it. It was clear to anyone with eyes that under his usual selection of probably too small t-shirts that he was sculpted like an Adonis, but he wasn't as confident with his body as the other commanders. The others would happily walk around naked if given the chance, while you could only get a glimpse of his bare chest on the rare occasion he went swimming. For you though, maybe he could let himself go. He'd long since accepted his attraction to you, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone. Fuck, maybe he was a coward. “Only [y/n] sees the photos?” he asked, though it was more of a plea.

“Fineeeee,” Quincy whined, giving you a look that absolutely translated to ‘you fucking owe me’.

“Okay,” Killer relented with a heavy sigh.

“Atta boy,” Kid smacked him on the shoulder, “look at you, so brave”

“Shut the fuck up Kid,” Killer grumbled.

“So uh… what am I wearing?” Killer asked, sitting nervously on the edge of his bed. The two of you were still a little tipsy, but anxiety had certainly sobered both of you a great deal. Both of you thought maybe you could avoid this altogether if you waited long enough for Quincy to forget, but she was having none of that, grabbing the jewellery from the girl's bunkroom herself and shoving you both towards Killer's room, fuck she was strong when she's drunk. You lifted the piece of jewellery from it's box, long interconnecting strings of fake diamonds that formed a sort of harness. He looked at it with a hitched breath, that thing was gonna barely cover anything.

“Shirt off, Massacre Soldier,” you ordered with faux confidence, fiddling with the harness to figure out the best way to get it on him, “I'll have to help you get it on”

“Oh… okay,” he took a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it towards his hamper. Fuck, he really was well built, with a thin blond happy trail and smooth, very lickable chest. You shook the distraction from your head and approached him with the harness. The crystals glinted in the light as you walked, Killer taking deep calming breaths to keep himself steady.

The easiest connection was the neck, so you attached that first, Killer having to hold his great mane of hair out of the way as he sat sideways on the bed and you knelt on the mattress behind him. Next was his back, your fingers smoothing over his chest and leaving goosebumps as you searched for the clasp, finding it with a small ‘ah huh!’ and pulling it around to clasp it in the middle of his back. The last clasp was at his hips, and his breath hitched as your hands followed the single line of crystals that ran down his front to where the remainder of the harness sat pooled in his lap. Clasps successfully located, you brought them around to fix them at the small of his back, swathes of crystals falling over his hips.

You stood to admire the finished product, which fit Killer like a glove just as Quincy had predicted. There was a line around his neck, which connected to one long line that ran all the way down to his happy trail. Over his chest the lines cupped under his pecs, connecting at the back and fastened to the neck at the sides of his pecs, with two additional lines that ran from the center to the top outer edges, framing his nipples. At his hips another line ran around him, and from it on either side were multiple draped lines of crystals that sat loosely over his side, though right now they awkwardly caught on his jeans.

“I gotta lower your jeans a little,” you hummed, and Killer's chest started to go red. You smirked, how could someone so attractive be so shy about his body? It was adorable, really, and gave you a boost of confidence knowing how flustered you were making him.

You pulled him to stand, and looked into the icy blue eyes you could see through the holes of his mask as you removed his sash and unzipped his jeans, hooking your fingers into the waistband of the pants and his briefs underneath and lowering them till they sat just above his cock, the deep v of his muscles and the well trimmed blond mass of pubes now exposed, pale against his tanned flesh. His breath was haggard as you stepped back and admired him, satisfied now that the crystals were able to hang against his bare skin. Now how to pose him?

“On your knees, soldier, arms behind your back,” you commanded. Normally he would have replied with a growl, only Kid had the authority to order him around, but he found himself dropping to his knees before his brain could protest the action, the drapes of stones on his hips making a flurried clicking sound as he moved. The sudden obedience surprised but pleased you, you were sure you'd gone too far with that request, but seeing Killer on his knees, his cock millimetres from exposure, his arms positioned as though he was bound, sent electricity straight to your core.

Before he could change his mind you grabbed the photo den-den and started snapping pictures. It was a polaroid style, only one copy could be made of each photo, no digital copies, as per the agreement you'd come to with Killer a little later. Something black under the corner of the bed caught your eye as you snapped photos, and his mask followed you nervously as you bent down beside him and retrieved it.

“Wow Kil, you're a lot kinkier than I took you for,” you smirked, examining the riding crop in your hand. Funny, there were no horses on board. You heard him swallow hard, saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he did so, mask fixed on the item in your hand. Caught red handed, curse the rocking of the ship for knocking it out of place, he should have done a better job of checking his room before allowing you in. “Now is this for use on others, or for use on you?” you asked as you whipped the tool, making a whistling sound as it sliced through the air next to him.

“M-me,” he finally answered. The answer surprised and aroused you, you'd never had guessed in a million years that Killer was a submissive, but it was becoming painfully obvious, slick pooling between you legs the more you thought about it.

“May I?” You purred, and he nodded slowly. You pushed the tip of it against his chin, forcing it up and exposing his thick neck. You snapped a few more pictures of him like that before setting the snail aside, far more interested in this new entertainment now as a clear tent formed in his jeans, the very base of his thick cock now visible as the fabric shifted. You bit your bottom lip noticing the thin trip of hardening flesh, running the crop down his front, following the line of crystals. “Such a pretty thing,” you hummed.

His hand grabbed the end of the crop, moving it till the leather loop at the end pressed against his nipple, a small, barely audible, whimper escaping him from under the mask. “You want me to hit you there?” You asked with a raised brow. His mask moved as he nodded and let go of the crop, hand returning to behind his back as he braced himself. Hesitantly you pulled back, before smacking him lightly with the crop.

“Harder,” he pleaded. You pulled back again, hitting him much harder, leaving a fresh red mark over his nipple as you pulled it away. He let out a small pleased groan, his hips bucking a little, exposing more of his length. “More”

You happily obliged, alternating between his two nipples and laying hard smacks against them with the delicate tool, making him groan and buck more. His jeans finally gave way with one last buck, his fully erect and leaking cock now exposed and at attention. You swore under your breath at the sight of it, thick and long and swollen with need, a drop of precum beading at the tip. You ran the crop down his front, pausing above his cock hesitantly, expecting him to stop you, but he remained still, his hands back behind his back obediently, his mask fixed on you. You bit your lip and ran the crop over the top of his length, rubbing the leather loop against the leaking tip, smearing his precum. You pressed it to the base of the underside where his shaft met his balls, running it up the length, his cock twitching against the leather. “So fucking pretty,” you breathed.

“All- all for you,” he mewled, rutting against the crop. You couldn't take it anymore, you were practically dripping with arousal just looking at him, the harness sparkling under the bedroom lights as he tried desperately to get friction against the small leather tip.

You dropped the crop and rushed at him, pushing him to the floor and attacking his neck with your mouth. You made shallow bites, leaving welts along his throat and shoulder, the usually stoic first mate whining and writhing under you as your nails dragged down his front. You pinched his reddened nipples as you moved down, pulling needy sounds from him, biting and licking and kissing your way down his front, running your tongue under the line of jewellery. Finally you reached his weeping cock, repurposing one hand to wrap around his base while your tongue ran up the underside and lapped at the precum, rubbing over the sensitive tip with your wet muscle before taking him in your mouth with a pleased hum. He swore under his breath as you bobbed your head, using your hand to service what you couldn't fit. One of his hands wound into your hair and guided your speed while the other clawed at the rug underneath him, his back arching off the floor as you took more of him, till his tip hit the back of your throat and your gagging vibrated the sensitive flesh.

A thin string of saliva connected your mouth to the head of his cock as you pulled off for air, looking at him with a half lidded, lust-addled gaze. “So pretty,” you purred, running your tongue up the underside of his twitching cock, “so fucking pretty”

“Shit, [y/n],” Killer gasped as you swallowed him again, his hips moving on their own accord and making swallow thrusts into your mouth, “I'm gonna- fuck- I'm gonna cum- hnng”

The hand that wasn't pumping the base of his cock travelled back up his body, playing with the jewellery for a moment before pinching and pulling at his nipple again. He let out a string of curses and whines as his hand pulled tight on your hair, holding you in place as he thrust up into you and released thick ropes of cum down your throat, leaving a trail over your tongue as he pulled out. He collapsed flat against the floor, his limbs limp around him, his hair fanned out over the rug like a cape, the jewellery and sweat on his body shimmering with every heaving breath he took. You licked the dripping remnants of his cum from his cock, eagerly swallowing his load and licking your lips, the lewdness of it making him whine.

You stood and grabbed the snail, and Killer made no attempt to move as you took more photos of him in his euphoric state, his cock already half hard again at the open shamelessness of you taking photos of him after absolutely sucking any remnant of a coherent thought right out of him via his dick.

Not wanting to test the limits of the precarious situation, you gathered your few things and made for the door, but not before Killer could scramble to you, wrapping himself around your thighs, bare under the miniskirt of the dress you wore. You let out a surprised gasp as his hands travelled up your legs, groping at your plush flesh, his mask pressing between them as he looked up at you.

“Please don't go,” he begged, “let me make you feel good, please, I wanna make you feel good. I'll be so good for you, so good”

You put down your things and stepped back towards him, your feet either side of his legs as he knelt on the floor. He reached up to his mask and you held your breath as he removed it, looking up at you with those deep blue eyes, darkened and almost black with lust, and purple tinted lips that immediately went to work kissing and licking your thighs. You pulled your dress up and over your head, leaving you in only your bra and panties, and he hooked his fingers under the panties to slide them down, stepping out of them so he could remove them entirely. His mouth travelled up the inside of your thighs, moving up and up till he was nosing at your folds, his eyes still locked with yours till he closed his to delve between your legs. You moaned as his tongue ran between your folds, letting him support your weight with his hands on your ass so you could crouch a little to give him better access.

He grunted into your folds, unsatisfied with what he could reach, and he started laying back flat, pulling you down with him till you were straddling his face. You were powerless to his motions as he held you tight against him and ate you out like a man starved, his moans vibrating against your cunt and making you shudder. “Killlll~” you whined, one hand fisting his thick hair as he encouraged you to roll against him, grinding your clit against his strong tongue. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, so good, so fucking good”

He gave your clit a harsh suck, snapping your coil, your orgasm rocking through you as he supported your weight and kept you flush to his mouth. He let you go limp against his chest as your high passed, both of you panting heavy, Killer pressing kisses to whatever he could reach of your thighs, his dick back to full mast beside your face. You could smell his arousal, and you turned your head to make kitten licks against his cock.

“I wanna fuck you,” he panted against the soft skin of your inner thigh, groping at the flesh on the outer side, “need to feel you cum on my cock, please”

All you could reply with was a needy whine, doing your best to sit back up so you could shuffle your ass back down his body, the jewellery catching against your skin and tugging as you moved. You rubbed your slick pussy weakly against his erection, your legs jelly from your orgasm. In one swift movement he grabbed your hips and the back of your head, flipping you so you lay underneath him, protecting your head from hitting the floor while also winding his fingers through your hair. His mouth latched on to your throat, marking your skin as his hands travelled down your body, the draping sections of the jewellery over his hips hanging down and brushing over yours. They clinked and jingled as he rutt his cock against you, rubbing it against your clit, before his moving hands reached where your legs were spread for him and he took himself in his palm, lining himself up and plunging into you, sheathing himself to the base with one deeo thrust and needy groan. Your back arched as he knelt between your legs, holding both of your hips in a bruising hold as he started a desperate, brutal pace, making you cry out in pleasure and claw at the rug. Your hand ran up his front, playing with the harness, admiring the way it sparkled as he fucked you, you eyes travelling upwards to his unmasked face. His head was thrown back, blond hair falling around his shoulders like a curtain of gold, brows furrowed in concentration. His purple lipstick was smeared, no doubt coating the skin on your thighs and neck and between your legs, a glistening of your silk still coating his chin.

“So pretty Kil, such a good boy,” you purred, your thumb running over his lower lip. He looked at you with wide, hungry eyes, his tongue poking out and running up your thumb before taking the digit in his mouth and sucking on it, letting out a whine as his thrusts increased in speed and depth and his fingers left deep purple bruises on your hips. His hands only left them to pull down your bra, the last piece of clothing you still had on, taking fists full of your breasts till his hands moved back to your hips, watching your tits bounce with every hard thrust as he fucked you like an animal in heat on his bedroom floor.

White hot pleasure was running through your body as your orgasm ran dangerously close, and you removed your thumb from his mouth to claw at his forearms, long deep moans pulled from you as he felt you start to flutter around him.

“Cum for me, please,” he whined, “‘m so close, so close, cum on my cock please”

“You've been such a good boy Kil,” you panted, “gonna cum for you- gonna- fuck, fuck, I'm cumming”

Your back arched of the floor and you saw sparkles in your vision as you came hard, clamping down around him and forcing him to cum with you, already teetering so close to the edge before your walls started milking every last drop he had. He painted your insides white with his seed, his hips stuttering before they stilled, collapsing to hover over you, focusing the last of his energy into keeping his weight from crushing you till he had no choice but to pull out and roll to lay beside you on the floor.

You rolled to your side to curl up against him, his skin scalding to the touch from the heavy physical activity, sweat rolling down his skin and catching on the gemstones of his harness. You played with the threads of glass stones, running your hands under them against Killer's skin, enjoying the luxurious and rare view.

“Fuck, I've wanted to do that for so long,” he puffed finally.

“Yeah? Me too,” you hummed.

“Then why the jewellery? Why not just come out with it?” He panted, his head turning to meet your eyes with his. You hand travelled up his chest and neck until you could cup his sharp cheek, running your thumb over it, drinking in his unmasked face.

“Pretty things for a pretty boy,” you replied, and you could see just the hint of the corner of his mouth curling upwards. Before he could accidentally show you the smile he was so self conscious about, he rolled over entirely and captured your mouth with his, his tongue hot and dominating against yours as he pulled you to press flush against him.

“Your pretty boy,” he mumbled against your neck as he moved to attack it.

“All mine,” you smiled.

[lotus-n-l0ve]

may i request a gun smut to feed my desires :< a wife!reader would be cute..

Look at me, shamelessly answering after months 🫣 honestly speaking, I have tried to write something with this so many times before but I just couldn't. My smut game is really bad 😮‍💨

TOUCH OF DELIGHT

— Gun Park x Wife!Female Reader

Its Not Smut It's Romance.

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : Just gun and his wife fucking.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : Smut, kissing, slight cockwarming, inappropriate language, unprotected sex, 633 words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // LOOKISM MASTERLIST

DON'T PRESS [KEEP READING] IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.

The spacious room is dimmed with just the golden light of the lamps. Uncountable petals of red rose scattered all over the bed and floor. Gun sat on the fluffy bed with his back resting on the headboard while you straddled his lap. Your naked limbs entangled with each other, feeling each other up. His semi hard cock resting comfortably between your warm walls.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Your whisper cut through the silence of the night.

Gun hummed with his ever so deep voice as he admired you and let you do whatever you wanted. Your fingers caressed under the raven void for eyes. Only you could look at him, possibly the most dangerous gangster of Japan, and think of him to be adorable. Other people wet their pants at even a mention of his name.

Can't blame them though. After all you were the only one with whom Gun left himself so vulnerable. You could stab a knife through his chest and he would still believe that you did that to protect him. He just trusted you that much. Though his trust did not come easy. After years of hurdles, tears, angst and undying love did you two became one.

You held his cheek with both hands, placing feather-like kisses on his closed eyelids. His sturdy arms that were wrapped around your waist descended to grasp your hips on the side. Butterfly kisses drifted down to his swollen lips before taking his lips in a long, passionate kiss.

Gun returned the kiss with equal hunger. Your walls clench around him, making him groan. Gun tightened his grip on your hips and raised you up before slamming you down on his hard cock, making you moan embarrassingly loud in the process. The previous orgasm worked as lubricant as his dick slipped in and out smoothly.

Your moans mixed with his heavy grunts. It was not enough. Gun raised his hips desperately, meeting you in the middle. Seeking for relief. Frustrated, Gun slammed your back on the bed and hovered over you.

“Get ‘n your fuck’n knees.” Gun sneered, lipping his cock out. Though before you could move he flipped you like a sack and brought your ass up in the air and pushed his cock all the way in.

“Ah— gentle, Gun.” You yelp but your throbbing pussy said otherwise.

Gun held your hips and snapped his against your ass desperately. Stretching your wall real well. His heavy balls slapping on your clit and sending shivers down your spine.

“So fucki’n tight even after cumming that much earlier?” Gun taunted through clenched teeth.

A smack lands down on your ass, forcing a mewl out of you. You bury your head further into the pillow and clutch the bedsheet in a death grip. You were a babbling mess, too fucked out of your brain to make any sense since the night began. All you could do was moan and beg for a release.

“Fuck, fuck- Yuzuru, I can't—”

The soft moan of his name sent a rush of adrenal straight to his dick as he picked up the speed. That vein wrapped around his cock rubbed your inside making it harder for him to last.

“Come for me sweetheart, won't ya?” Gun hissed into your ears

Your toes curled up as he shot hot threads of seeds in your pussy, combining with your cum. Gun stayed in you for a few minutes. hysterical panting of you two filled the room. As his heart calmed down Gun pulled his dick. A whimper left your lips.

Gun stared at the white fluid oozed out, running down your tights and dripping onto the sheets. He scooped the liquid spread on your lips and shoved them back in your cunt. Exactly where they belong.

LIKED IT? THEN PLEASE LEAVE A LIKE, REBLOG & COMMENT. IT WOULD MEAN A LOT AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE LIKE THESE. THANK YOU ♡

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆BITTERSWEET TRAGEDY

CONTENT WARNING: Angst, Gore, Mutilation, Implied Stockholm Syndrome, Obsession.

PAIRINGS: Suguru Geto x Fem! Non-sorcerer! Reader

---𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄’𝐒.

“I had a bad dream,” Suguru murmured, his warm breath gently caressing the nape of your neck as he nuzzled against you.

“Again, huh...?” Your voice trailed off, a deep-seated concern for Suguru stirring within you. Ever since the  Star Plasma Vessel mission, he had been plagued by haunting nightmares and restless nights, and it made you worried — because fuck, suguru started to look more depressed as days goes by, and you can’t even do anything about it. 

You sighed softly, your fingers delicately threading through his soft raven locks that now“I had a bad dream,” Suguru murmured, his warm breath gently caressing the nape of your neck as he nuzzled against you.

“Again, huh...?” Your voice trailed off, a deep-seated concern for Suguru stirring within you. Ever since the  Star Plasma Vessel mission, he had been plagued by haunting nightmares and restless nights, and it made you worried — because fuck, suguru started to look more depressed as days goes by, and you can’t even do anything about it. 

You sighed softly, your slender fingers delicately threading through his soft raven locks that now cascaded freely around his face.

“What was it about this time?... Wanna talk about it?” 

“It’s fine if you don’t want to.” you said softly.

“...I was a murderer,” 

“A cult leader...”

“You hated me, and i killed you.”

Reaching up slowly, you allowed your fingers to delicately brush on his cheek, feeling the soft skin against your calloused pads.

“Come now, it was only a dream. Surely you know dreams cannot harm you.”

A shuddering sigh escaped Suguru's lips as he leaned into your fleeting caress, finding solace in your touch.

“I know.. but even so, I don’t want you to hate me.” 

“because.. what if it actually happens..?”

“Suguru,” you murmured, tracing the bow of his lip with the barest brush of your thumb. Leaning in slowly, you replaced fingers with your mouth, capturing his lips in a kiss meant to reassure where words failed.

You pulled away just enough to whisper against his mouth, “I could never hate you.” 

“Never, i’ll always love you... I promise.”

---𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒

How did everything spiral to this fucked up state? Suguru was once tender and loving, your sweet and loving boyfriend who would never dare lay a finger on you, has morphed into a monster unrecognizable to you — the exact opposite of what he was before.

Despite hurting you both mentally and physically — even though he beats you up just for the slightest slip-up, a deep-seated love continues to bind you to him, gosh maybe it even borders on obsession.

Even as you teeter on the precipice of death, your love for him remains undiminished.

Even if he was the one who did this to you.

The one who put you through a lot of pain.

“I told you, I’ll always love you... I can never hate you,” you wheezed, a weak chuckle escaping past bloodied lips. Your head lolled to the side as crimson rivulets meandered down your chin. Your limbs, severed and mangled, lay scattered around like abandoned toys, with Suguru’s cursed spirits voraciously devouring the remnants. A few, audacious, had begun to gnaw at the tender flesh of your exposed shoulder, but suguru swatted them away. Pain radiated from every nerve ending, carving tendrils of excruciating pain deep into your bones, which jutted out like shattered ivory shards.

Each breath you drew was a jagged, ragged effort, slicing through your chest, and it hurts so bad, like you were being cut by a saw-toothed blade. 

“...So it really happened, huh...? Your bad dream..”  you muttered. “damn.. you.. didn’t have to.. ah.. mutilate me... should’ve just killed me fast instead of this torture..”

Suguru sighed, a sound heavy with ennui, before he leaned in close, his breath mingling with the metallic stench of your blood.

“it’s not like i wanted you to die this way...”

“uh-huh.. it looks like you wanted it this way.” you retorted.

He cupped your cheeks with gentleness that belied the savagery of his actions. Your vision blurred, the world dimming as your eyes began their slow march toward lifelessness.

“I wanted to kill you painlessly but you just had to be miss goody two shoes... And it makes me want to... hurt you so bad.”

“Why can’t you just hate me?”

“Because i promised to always love you. Or maybe it’s just this — heh — stockholm syndrome.”

 “a promise, huh? i forgot about that already.” He pressed his lips to your forehead, the kiss lingering as your eyes fluttered shut.

“...you don’t hate me, huh? Not even if i’m the one who did this?” he murmured.

“not even if i put your through so much hell?”

“Never... Always... I’ll love you...” you whispered.

Suguru leaned in and kissed you, and you just let out a shaky sigh, feeling his soft lips press against yours.

It was not a kiss of passion nor love but of penance, his mouth moving delicately— almost reluctantly—against your own. Nothing like his actions before.

“Stupid fucking girl,” he hissed as he finally pulled away.

“Why did you have to be a non-sorcerer?...”

---𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐋, 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐎

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡