#'but what if I can't remember all of it what if there are gaps' so don't draw the gaps

[myeagleexpert]

The Perfect Boyfriend (PT 3)

𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖊𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖋 𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆��𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖑, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖛𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖞 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝕴'𝖛𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖕

Doppleganger/Skinwalker!Yandere x YN (AFAB)Summary: Your relationship with Kain has never been one of the best, but recently it's like you've been thrown off an abyss over and over again. Oh, and there's a dog too, but he's not important. Anyway… with a storm of emotions in your mind, you end up leaving a gap that a certain creature will take advantage of. Warnings: (Toxic relationships, obsessed relationships, mental manipulation, the smell of rot, description of death, description of fear and panic, a little sentimental smut, The thing loves you - too much.) Uncertain motives. Lots of couple fights and domestic violence, but YN defends herself and fights harder, this story takes place before chapter 1, you will now see what the original Kain was like.The term 'YN' and 'you' is used several times in the fanfic for better grammatical use, my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. <3

𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 < < 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍, 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖊𝖆𝖙 > >

You think you saw something under the window.

It's something - you're sure.

But it's not important enough for you to give it your full attention. Not when you're fighting with Kain right now, it's probably about some nonsense, the two of you have been fighting for so long that you don't even remember what you're fighting about and Kain is getting more and more aggressive.

"I can't believe we're fighting about this, Kain! Your mother must have thrown the baby away and created the placenta instead, because there's no way you only understand what suits you!" you say louder, running your hands over your face in an irritated way.

Today was supposed to be the perfect date. It was your and Kain's anniversary and after missing the date 4 times, he finally agreed to go today. Of course, you got ready in a happy and relieved way, who knows if it was a sign of his change? You did a great job with your makeup, your hair looked like a celebrity blowout but the most beautiful thing is your beautiful black dress. This one accentuates each of your curves in an attractive and elegant way, with shiny details in some part and The high heels, a black sitelleto perfectly match the occasion, the black and transparent tights give a stylish air to the look. A wine-colored velvet bow is in your hair, giving an air of significant femininity.

And given the special occasion, you are finally wearing a beautiful set of accessories that you ordered online! You waited so long to receive it and today you will wear it for the first time! The necklace is a beautiful ruby ​​choker with encrusted diamonds, combined exclusively with the button earrings of the same style.

Now, you can't leave the house without your black bag, huh? You chose this model yourself, padded and medium-sized, perfect for work and to use when going out. The black bag is a universal symbol of female independence, and of distrust of men. After all, a good partner should pay the bill and leave the girl at ease, right? That's what people are saying on the internet and Kain is your partner but… he's a delicate case.

You think twice before putting your wallet with cards and money in it, Kain paid the last few times but what if….... no. Don't think about it. He'll change. He promised.

Before leaving you listen to the voice in your head and put your wallet, lip gloss and documents in it.

Just in case.

And oh boy, thank God you listened.

*knock knock*

You hear him knock on your door, and as you walk down the halls, you check yourself in the mirror from head to toe and smile dreamily, happily, lightly, mentally praising yourself.

You look really beautiful today, YN

He appears at your door, smoking a cigarette while talking on his cell phone. He didn't give you a kiss. Just a look to confirm that you were in front of him and he threw the helmet in your hands, unceremoniously returning to the motorcycle.

The bike was beautiful, but dirty and Kain already smelled of cigarettes, his old jacket was stained with alcohol he had been drinking, you surreptitiously held your breath so as not to breathe in that terrible odor. Carefully, you slowly climbed on it so as not to get your dress dirty and abruptly, he started driving to what was supposed to be the romantic dinner he had promised at her favorite restaurant. Imagine the disappointment when a route was changed to a darker part of the city, but it was a small diner, a hot dog cart with a few tables around it. A slight embarrassment of being overdressed rose on your face, but you disguised it with a crooked smile as you cleaned the chair dirty with ketchup from the last person who had used the table.

“Heya, YN, you look pretty good.” he complimented you, sitting in the chair opposite yours.

“Thanks, I–”

“You don’t mind if I call a few more friends, do you? They’re nearby and I invited them to come eat with us.”

He interrupts you and confirms the call before you can say anything.

YN doesn't want to be immature, petty, or a boring little princess who doesn't want to have fun like he already said, so you just nod and mentally prepare yourself for the vision that arrives.

In less than 10 minutes, at least 6 more boys arrive… drugged… drunk… dirty with dirt and stained with oil. The group of brutes TAKES MORE CHAIRS AND TABLES around so they can all be together, the smell of sour and loud voices, words tangled with each other and insults are exchanged as a form of greeting.

Even the cook at the stall looks at this group of troublemakers with disdain, and when he realizes that you are there in the middle, he turns his head, confused, as if asking what you are doing there. And to be honest, at that moment you don't know either. The waiter quickly brings the menu to your table, which is already starting to attract the attention of other people.

"Good evening, what would you like?" the waiter says in a harsh tone, this group had caused problems before.

"Francis, old man, I'm surprised you're still here!" Kain exclaims with disdain. Last week, they unfairly involved the waiter in one of their scams, causing him to almost be fired.

"Thanks to my boss, I am, if it were up to you I would be out on the street like you good-for-nothings." he huffs irritably, grabbing his notebook

The group just laughs, as if nothing mattered, and orders drinks and hot dogs. Kain doesn't remember you, it's the waiter who stops by your side and asks in a softer voice.

"Would you like to order something now?"

"A juice with the number 2, please." You asked for the quickest thing to get out of there as quickly as possible, preferably something already prepared that they only had to heat up and you could leave.

"Of course, yours will be ready in a minute." The waiter quickly takes your order and leaves before the disgusting horde can get him in trouble again.

"Omg, YN, what a surprise you're here!" one of them exclaims, isn't that the one who hit his own mother?

"She wanted to go out today so I thought I could bring her with us." Kain doesn't let you answer, distorting the truth while laughing disgustingly with his friend next to him, the one who got out of prison last week.

Ouch.

You feel so small and dirty now, like a stunned cockroach on the floor, like a puppy that its owner conveniently takes for a walk. You don't know how, but somehow, some girls approach your table, flirting with the boys and with Kain himself. You ignore the feeling of neglect, disgust, and revolt and smile tightly, a thin line made entirely to disguise the tremendous discomfort you feel.

Sweet you, struggling to stay calm and hide your true feelings, try desperately to control your body and facial expression. Your hands remain static, despite being elegantly in your lap, and your breathing is controlled so as not to appear agitated, occasionally distracting yourself on your cell phone while you wait.

As you observe the scene in front of you, your face remains impassive, without any trace of apparent emotion. Inside, however, the storm of feelings continues to stir uncontrollably.

You want so much to leave there and cry, how could you have been so naive to believe that he would change? That today would be a special day? As if the universe was reaching out to you, the waiter soon delivered your orders, gently placing his hand on your shoulder and speaking softly in your ear.

“If you need anything else, we are at your disposal, miss”, the staff was empathetic to your situation, your discomfort visible from miles away, you were there like a pearl among swine, a little princess in a horde of stinking goblins.

Kain interpreted it as if the waiter was flirting with you, in front of him, in front of his friends and the fight went on and on, he made advances on the waiter, the boys stole some things, security was called… and finally… being the only one with documents when security arrived, you paid the bill for the boys’ losses and were forced to pay the bill for the snack as well, you angrily took your wallet out of your black bag. At that moment, you dropped your politeness and your princess pose and fought with Kain in front of everyone, calling a nearby motorcycle taxi to take you home.

You don't want to see Kain's face now.

You might break up today.

That's it.

That's it.

You're fed up.

You furiously take the bow out of your hair and throw it somewhere in the house as soon as you get home, your expensive high heels being thrown to some corner of the couch while you control your breathing, tears of frustration threatening to roll down your face but for all the self-respect you have left, you won't cry for him today. Your boyfriend, Kain, arrives a few minutes later, banging on the door incessantly as if he wanted to break it down.

And on the one hand, you were already pissed at him, but on the other… if he came all the way here… it means he cares, right? You open the door with expectation, only for them to be destroyed once again.

"Are you stupid or what?" he shouts, entering the house with all his steps stomping loudly in his muddy sneakers as if he were the owner of the house, and takes a big swig from his cheap beer can.

"What…?" You feel confused, is this son of a bitch blaming you?

“I know.”

He throws the beer can on the floor when it's finished and marches towards you with arguments and points, blaming you for hitting on the waiter, for embarrassing him in front of his friends, for calling the security guard and for a million other facts that he created in his head.

It's never Kain's fault. It's the waiter's fault, the friend's fault, the police officer's fault, YOUR fault, but never his.

It seems like a joke.

A cruel joke in a circus that you didn't pay to enter.

But you paid, YN, you entered the circus and kissed the clown, now who's being made fun of?

"Kain, that's not how it happened." You confront him firmly on your position.

"Oh no? And that other time when you—”

And whenever he’s losing an argument, he brings up memories from the past to justify the nonsense of the present, like how he loves you so much that he picked you up from the hospital, how your father cheated on your mother, how his father is working a lot, that he helped you move….. it has nothing to do with today’s event, with today’s argument, but he wants to win this argument no matter what.

The argument doesn’t make sense, but it escalates quickly, it’s like airing dirty laundry, and you decide that if you’re going to throw shit in the fan, you’re going to throw it. Tonight’s already terrible, let’s end it on a high note.

The best cure for a crazy person is someone crazier than him. My mother used to say that…. let’s see for real?

Fuck this thing.

“Kain, do you practice at home to talk so much shit, or is everything that comes out of your mouth improvised?” you gesture sarcastically, the words cutting more than a knife, like an acid that bubbles with the amount of anger inside you.

Snowball, the female cat you adopted a few weeks ago silently approaches the room where you are, crawling elegantly and meowing in retaliation to your boyfriend. The more upset your boyfriend gets, the more annoyed Snowball seems.

The cat, despite being a cute kitten, didn't win Kain's favor. He complains about the white fur getting on his clothes, about all the unnecessary expenses you're spending on a stinky kitten, and mainly, how now that this cat has arrived, you only have attention for her. Which is obviously a lie, he just wants something to fight about and blame you for. The kitten is affectionate with you, always being close and purring in your hands, maybe that's why she's a little… protective of you? Sweet YN, so kind to her. Snowball is at the door now, her tail slowly wagging from side to side in a clear sign of agitation, her meows becoming louder as if she wanted to defend you.

The couple's shouting, with the TV playing loudly in the background, and the incessant meowing of a cat is chaos, an irritation that grows more and more. At some point, Kain gets really angry and approaches YN aggressively, stomping his feet hard and raising his hands. It is exactly at this moment that Snowball uses her incredible feline speed and scratches his feet, the kitten's soft white fur standing up while her pupils turn into two little holes.

There is something under your window, and the thing wipes its bloody mouth and does its best to stay still, observing the situation.

And most importantly… the thing sees you.

"See? Even a cat understands that you're overstepping your bounds! Enough, Kain, there's no way you're that upset!" You huff loudly as you walk away from the man, you don't know what's worse, the yelling or the teasing of the kitten.

Kain turns around, now focusing his attention on Bola de Neve. He scoffs at the kitten and scowls at you.

"Oh, shut that thing up. If you can't keep it quiet, you shouldn't have gotten it. You know cats annoy the hell outta me."

Oh, this is the final straw for you. Not only did he ruin a perfect date, but now he wants to rule your house as if it were his? Oh no. All the women inside you roar in unison, ordering in your heart that you should not stay silent and lower your head.

"Oh? Excuse me? This is MY HOUSE! If you're bothered, go to YOUR HOUSE! Because in mine, MY kitten can even sing if she wants to," you proclaim louder than him, disgusted with the situation while gesturing to the house.

Kain turns to you, his face red and his expression darkening even more.

"I'm your boyfriend, I have every right to be here!" he snaps back, getting even closer to you. Snowball doesn't like this at all, approaching you and climbing onto the nearest couch, meowing and hissing again louder than before.

You swallow your fear and apprehension and head towards the door, crossing the room while maintaining eye contact with the man. "You have the fucking right to be here, the door is open for you to go vomit and talk your nonsense outside. In my house, I'm the boss, big head."

Kain turns to yell at the cat again, annoyed and frustrated, he imitates the meow more loudly and in a childish way. He's clearly losing his temper.

"Will you shut that thing up! It's making my damn head hurt, I'll throw it outside myself if I have to! What an annoying noise! ​​I'm leaving if you keep this up!"

Oh, does the asshole want a formal invitation?

"Oh, do you want me to do the honors?" In a sarcastic tone you answered him, taking Snowball in your arms and protecting her as if she were your own kitten, placing her in her cat tower, a safe haven for now. There's a high chance that Kain will get really angry and go after the cat, but even so you hold the cat tighter against your chest and stomp on the floor.

Big man, head of a childish boy.

Enough of bowing my head to him hoping that everything will be better the next day.

Kain glares at you, furious and frustrated. He's not expecting you to actually kick him out, especially considering his current state, the idiot was already drinking before your date, the smell of cheap alcohol on him is unbearable.

"Are you serious right now?! You'd really kick me out over a cat?!" he yells, standing up and walking towards you, getting in your face.

"You're the one who's bothered by the cat, and you know the saying: those who are bothered should leave!" You cross your arms and continue even more determined "Either you leave and save the rest of your dignity or you spend the night here in silence."

Kain looks like a mad man with rage now, are you choosing the cat and not him? Do you dare to turn against him? Your boyfriend?

He approaches you again with strong and threatening steps, crossing the room again until he's close to you, next to a beautiful decorated bookcase. As a reflex of revolt, you tie your hair in a bun and approach him with the same intensity. A sign that the fight is far from over.

“You’re being too-!”

“Listen here, you-!” you gesture with your hands as you speak

The creature thinks that you look terribly big now, taking up more and more space as if, like any animal, you were showing your dominance in the territory. With increasingly larger and more offensive gestures, your voice increasingly loud and cold, arguments mixing with emotions, the situation is escalating very quickly. And the most interesting thing….

There is not a single drop of fear in you.

Creatures of his kind can feed on people’s fear and anguish too, but he doesn’t smell that in you… he smells that in your scoundrel boyfriend, who tries to disguise his weak points when he raises a threatening hand at you, shouting in a deep voice that imposes dominance.

“Shut your mouth!”

You glare at him defiantly and grab the first thing closest to you: a sharp sculpture, a decorative gift from your mother that you've never found useful, well, until now.

"Shut you up!" You hold the sculpture at the same height as his raised hand, raising your voice so it echoes through the house.

He looks at you, his face red with anger and his breathing fast. Kain never thought you'd threaten him back, defend yourself, but knowing you, he knows that the likelihood of you attacking him is as high as him attacking you now. Given this, and his weak state, Kain curses in a low tone and slowly lowers his hands.

You take a deep breath and pray that your own voice doesn't shake and slowly lower the sharp sculpture, but holding it tightly in your hands in case he changes his mind.

"Respect me. And if you really have feelings for me, you'll get out of my house right now and leave me alone!" You growl in an authoritative tone, leaving no room for suggestion as you slowly walk towards him, circling him like a predator while pointing the sculpture directly at him.

Your eyes are like flames of fire, with hatred and anger escaping from them as you focus exclusively on the man in front of you.

Today was perhaps the moment of greatest mental clarity of your life, and Kain hates every minute of his girlfriend's insubordination, as if he had seen the size of the iceberg for the first time, and not the small cubes or ice shavings that subtly melted with the heat of kisses or weak threats.

This little thing thinks she can threaten me? Shout back?

"YN, you're overreacting!! You're going to regret this!" The cornered man slowly makes his way to the door, frustrated and with a bruised ego. Kain keeps his eyes wide as he watches your domineering figure, but out of pride he still wants to have the last word to tell his friends.

"Enough!" You hold up a hand signaling him to shut up, and he does so immediately. "Don't make me repeat myself. Get out. Now!" You open the door abruptly, knocking over a portrait that was behind it as you breathe heavily through your nostrils, like a bull preparing for combat.

Kain glares at you, his anger fading slightly as he realizes he's not gonna win this one. He knows you're being serious, and doesn't have a choice. He sighs loudly and turns around to grab his stuff.

"Fine then! I'm leaving! But don't come begging for me to come back when you decide to ditch the damn cat…" He grabs his things and still grumbling curses. He gets to the front door and looks back at you one last time. He's still grumpy and annoyed, but defeated.

"I'll call you when I get home."

“Sure.” You say with a forced smile, the words coming out between clenched teeth.

The thing remembers that most species show their teeth as a sign of aggression, and it wonders if one more step in the wrong direction and you would open your jaw and furiously bite your boyfriend’s throat until it bled?

No.

When Kaim approaches, you allow him to kiss you on the mouth, albeit angrily, and say goodbye. He gets on the motorcycle and then exits the house, without looking back while you stand at the door, waiting for him to leave. Acting silently as a sentinel of your own house, your straight posture and raised chin indicate that you remain firm in your position. The sound of a motorcycle starts up and then fades away in the distance. It's finally quiet again.

The creature thinks humans are complicated.

If a miserable dog dared to even attack its owner, the owner would hand it over to a kennel or the streets, returning the hatred a thousand times over.

But if a human attacks another….

A human will be a thousand times more merciful with their own kind, they will apologize and make amends for the aggression, they will blame the drink, the drugs, the stressful day but they will never blame the other, they will never admit their own mistake.

Through a hidden bush the creature sees you enter the house and close the door and before you can walk with strong steps to the other side of the house… Snowball, the kitten, meows sweetly at you. It is as if the big and strong independent woman melts at the sight of a worried kitten, disarming herself of the armor she used in the argument earlier. You pick her up in your arms and take her to the sofa in the living room, where you put on a romantic movie to watch, something that internally you wished to live, something to distract from this moment.

Snowball purrs against your chest, raising her head subtly to lick the tears that roll down YN's face, staining the makeup she had done so excellently in doing. Stubborn, frustrated, angry, tears roll down her face insistently while YN holds herself back from crying, but poor thing, her lip trembles slightly as the kitten does what she can to bring some comfort to her owner.

*crash*

At that moment a loud noise is heard, the dramatic scene is interrupted by the trash can falling and YN remembers that she had actually heard something. YN quickly gets up and goes to check what it could be. Some raccoons were rummaging through the house's trash can looking for food, accidentally causing the can to fall on the creature's tail, scaring and hurting it, quickly pulling its tail off and attacking its attackers.

What YN sees, however, is a large black dog going after the raccoons that were rummaging through her trash can. Maybe out of hunger, maybe for something else, but before YN can grab a broom and chase the raccoons away, the large dog does so, and then their eyes meet.

YN looks at the dog, he is a great mass of black fur with long legs and sharp teeth. He is bigger than any dog ​​she has ever seen, his bark is too loud, his fur makes it easy for him to stay in the shadows but his eyes…..two crimson balls reflecting the light from the window in a bright red. The poor thing immediately shut up when he noticed YIN's presence, and sweet YN, thought he was fighting over food with the raccoons.

YN saw him.

Even after such a stormy night, she gently closes the window as if nothing had happened and goes to the kitchen, calling Snowball to come with her.

For a dog that size, he must eat a lot……

YN grabs some leftovers from her lunch, along with some dog food that she had saved for when she would go for a walk in the park and feed some stray dogs, she grabs some eggs, and a few other things that might please the canine palate and puts them in a bowl, filling a small bowl with water to give to the unknown beast as well.

The girl turns on the light in front of the house, and holds her breath in case the dog gets aggressive, keeping the door closed and Snowball inside the house.

“Hey, I can see you,” she says in a sweet tone to call the big dog from hiding in the bushes. She wasn't supposed to see him.Why can she see him?

“Come here boy, I have something for you.” She makes a sound to call the canine, placing the portions of food and water near the window and the bush.

“Come here boy,” she calls again.

The dogs she feeds at the park usually wag their tails when they see YN approaching, let her run her hand through their fur and come quickly when they are called.

But not this one.

The creature wasn't expecting this tonight, having quickly put on his dog skin before leaving, but it's undeniable: He's hungry. And you're offering him a feast. It would be stupid to refuse. So, slowly, he starts to emerge from the bush, his head and snout coming out first and his body reluctantly following. He's incredibly suspicious of YN, not taking his eyes off the human for a minute, which makes her back away too, in her head, giving the creature space to feel comfortable.

“Very well, now I’m going, okay?” Before she can turn around, the dog changes course and begins to walk slowly towards YN, ears and tail pricked, his gaze fixed on the human.

In the blink of an eye he's in front of her, in an alert position. YN has been in this situation before, so like any other dog, she gently extends her hand so he can sniff and get to know her.

"Oh...hello boy."

The skinwalker sniffs YN's hand, her scent enveloping his senses and immediately making him relax, it was a unique scent, he had never felt this sensation before and hesitantly he licks the back of YN's hand…

Mmm… delicious.

YN takes it as a sign that he is friendly and runs her hand over his head, petting him and showing him where the food is.

"Very good buddy, there's your food, see. See you later."

The creature's fur is dry and hard, like that of a stuffed animal and YN doesn't look into the animal's eyes, not wanting to cause more problems for the stranger. Oh, if she had looked into its eyes she would know that what she had touched was not just any animal, she should never have fed it, she should never have given it a break.

After all,

If you feed a dog, it will come back.

And it wasn't just any dog.

The following days are marked by a strange sensation in YN, a feeling of alertness and unease. Every time she leaves the house for work, she feels a strong sense that something is wrong, and there really is something very wrong around her. A shadow. The shadow lingers, faint and cold, a veil across the surface, untold. Whispers soft, a chilling breeze, Upon the wall, an enigma it weaves.

At dawn, the girl finds peace, a calm knowing that the great Sun would bring her a slight feeling of security and warmth and finally, the feeling of seeing things the way they are. The danger is returning alone at night, YN. What lies beneath, concealed by the veil, A wind that blows but will never fail. A heartbeat, a gentle sigh, A secret that will never die.

She quickens her pace, taking longer and faster steps as she looks anxiously around corners, praying hard that the Sun will be merciful enough to allow her to get home in time to lock all the doors and windows and finally relax, ignoring the persistent shadows she sees in the corner of her eye and the sound of howls in the middle of the night. But unfortunately, today is one of the days when the Sun has been generous with the Moon, allowing it to shine earlier than it did for all of humanity, but the poor human is very anxious, hearing things and seeing things that according to her are just products of her imagination. It's well known, the shadow does reside, but only revealed when looking inside. A ghost that hides and persists. A mystery that the soul can't resist.

After days of feeling followed and watched, YN finally accepts the ride her boss offers her, making her arrive home early and and decided to extend a helping hand to the young woman in the city that YN didn't know. The experienced woman had noticed that YN was in a constant state of anxiety to return home and that something was not right.

Home is everyone's safe place, why wouldn't YN want to go back?

“Hey Snowball, did you miss me?” YN pets the cat as soon as she arrives home, the kitten purring as she leans in with her affections.

“Did you catch any mice today?” The girl does not expect answers from a cat, and quickly checks the house for any body or evidence.

It can't be just ONE mouse.

A few days ago, YN saw some mice in the house. There had never been any mice there before, but the girl assumes that things like this happen in the new house. The mice are fast, too fast for YN to hit them with the broom and too fast for Snowball to catch them. They are like shadows, being recognized only by the rotten smell and the noise they make when they move from one place to another, a heavy noise for something so small. But strangely, they never go after food. YN checks the food, the bathroom, the fridge, the yard every day… but there is no proof that they have been there.

But it is better to have rats than Kain, isn't it? It was Kain's habit to disappear for a while and then appear as if nothing had happened, never remorseful, never guilty. He wasn't always this infinite well of idiocy, he was kind and loving in the beginning but as the relationship progressed things went downhill. Like a tick that starts innocently grabbing an animal's fur, and it doesn't hurt at first, but as time goes by the tick digs its claws and teeth into the host's skin, sucking the soul and blood, weakening the host and leaving the host at its mercy.

As much as the tick hurts, it will be even more painful to remove, like a stubborn person who would rather keep the knife embedded in the wound than remove it and risk losing blood. The boy didn't say much these days, just a few lame excuses while YN cut the conversation short and ignored him. It's better this way. She is still writing the script for how she will end the relationship. Even though he is a stupid asshole, what guarantees that he won't come and demand satisfaction later? That he will send one of his idiot friends to take care of you?

Hmm… better memorize the police number here… get the neighbor's number… better be prepared in case something happens…

“…hey.”

A voice calls her from the other side of the house, in the backyard.

But YN is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't recognize the tone of the voice, lost in the loud music from her headphones. But she still goes to the backyard to open the door, not realizing that Snowball's fur is bristling and scared, but when she opens the door she finds only…

“Oh, hey boy. Its you!” You find the black dog from a few days ago sitting elegantly on the grass, attentively awaiting your presence.

“You're early today, huh?” The sun is still setting today, illuminating some children in orange tones while they are still playing outside.

Maybe one of them called out to a friend and you heard, thinking you were being called.

“I’ll get your food and I’ll be right back, okay?”

The big dark ball has been fed every now and then in the last few days, always after the young woman gets home from work. The dog seemed to guess and emerge from the shadows when he noticed YN’s presence in the house. YN and her huge heart already set aside something for him, buying more food and treats for him at the market. She has enough to feed him and bring him water, but not enough to open the door and adopt him. It’s as if Yn had wisely created a wall between the two of them, establishing a limit that she felt was necessary.

In the kitchen, the music is still playing loudly in her ears, a lively rhythm to chase away bad thoughts while the young woman prepares an old bowl for the dog’s dinner and another for his water. She quickly pauses the wireless headphones, poking her finger a few more times when the sound doesn't pause.

At these times, YN likes to be on alert to attend to the dogs, even when feeding other stray dogs, there's something particular about this one that makes her feel… agitated, as if she were playing with the flames of a candle and seeing how far it really gets burned. Or in this case, bitten.

“Hey buddy, here's dinner.” Yn announces the entrance while the dog is sitting exactly in the same place, with a confused look but accustomed to this routine of the last few days the girl puts the bowls under the window in a clean area.

“Come. You can eat now.” and so he does, walking over to the place and eating from the bowl, his big tail wagging slightly as he savors each bite, his tense muscles relaxing as the feast is served.

He must have been domesticated and when he got too big they pushed him out onto the street, because how is he so… obedient?

This is usually where the story ends.

She feeds him and goes back home.

But this time, the creature notices when YN is about to walk away and growls slightly, making her become confused and stop.

What? What did I do?

The black dog approaches and imitates the behavior he has seen other dogs doing, wagging his tail while staring at YN with pleading eyes and lowered ears, relaxing some muscles in his face so that he appears more friendly.

“Oh, you want some affection, is that it?” YN hesitantly brings her hand gently to the dog’s head, preparing to immediately pull it away in case the canine decides to bite at the last minute.

But the bite never comes.

He would never in his right mind hurt you.

He closes his eyes as he welcomes the touch, his hand noticing how much softer and longer his black fur is now, his tail wagging much faster now showing how good he is feeling, sweeping some autumn leaves away as YN pets him more willingly and freely, more comfortable with the idea that he won't bite her hand.

"So you're not aggressive, huh? Do you like it?" she continues to caress the creature tenderly, two hands to stroke his fur all over as he lets out small grunts of joy.

He feels more playful now, his tail wagging as he sinks deeper and deeper into the girl's touch, closing his eyes contentedly. But when he opens his eyes to observe her more closely, to delight in her beautiful and majestic face, to take the chance to study a face so beautiful that it would make the most miserable of men a king, and the richest of men a mere pauper in search of attention, imagine his surprise when he sees that the girl was also studying him. YN takes the chance to see the vulnerable canine and looks for wounds and scars, or indicators of what kind of dog it is, some collar or ship that identifies it, but is surprised by what she finds: beautiful blue eyes.

What beautiful blue eyes, did they turn red because of the light at night? This happens with the reflection sometimes, I saw photos about it.

But Yn avoids looking directly into his eyes for too long, she feels something strange… they look with such precision and intelligence that YN has never seen a dog have, eyes almost human, almost emotional, almost… something. Almost as if she asked him something, he would answer.

But that's not important now, not when he precisely closes his eyes again as he moves closer to her body, wanting more of the warmth and affection that only the girl can give him.

It's a beautiful and tender moment, which makes YN forget the enigmatic problems that are on the other side of the door. But she is remembered when the sun sets completely, leaving her alone in the darkness. Little by little, in affectionate but anxious acts, she moves away from the dog.

"I have to go now, go eat, boy. Good night." In a sweet voice, she reluctantly says goodbye to her canine friend, it was good that he showed this more affectionate side of him.

"Boy" because he is not something dear to her yet.

"Boy" because to YN he was just a street dog.

"Boy" because he is not allowed to enter the house.

Understanding that she wanted to enter the house, he slowly moves away, allowing the girl freedom to walk to the door while he remains standing in the same place. The darkness of the night quickly becomes present and more terrifying because when she left the sun was shining outside, but now in the house and in the yard, there are no lights on. As she is about to reach for the doorknob, she hears something that makes her freeze.

“…thank you.”

It was a voice so impossibly clear and deep that it could not have been from her headphones, since they were turned off. It was a voice that spoke inside her head, making each letter reverberate with intensity in every nerve and muscle. A spectral and disturbing voice. Her heart immediately froze and a deep fear took hold of her, words of gratitude that were supposed to make her feel good, now it was as if something primordial had awakened. From the corner of her eye, she slowly notices that the dog is in the same place, looking at her with his head tilted, almost cute, if it weren't for his eyes shining with a light that shouldn't be there.

YN comes out of her trance dizzily and quickly and enters the house, closing and locking the door safely while turning on the doors of the house, all of them while recovering the strength in her legs and breathing unevenly.

Perhaps, if she had looked back one more time, she would have seen the creature moving away and merging with the shadows of the yard in a surreal way, like a shadow merging with the darkness of the night.

Oh, what a terrifying soul to have around….

Oh, what a tormented and dangerous creature….

No one taught him to be this creature, he has never seen another of his kind either, but perhaps he has not always been this way. He does not remember exactly what he was, what he once was in existence. He does have a conscience, portraits of memories and abstract concepts, but for the most part he is "an almost animal thing".

He was once human, an original form that he has not used for decades and perhaps he has even forgotten what he once was, after so many masks and disguises it is difficult to know what is true, merging with more animalistic perceptions over time.

Repeating a primitive cycle, eating, sleeping and hunting when he is hungry, exchanging the rotting skin for another.

But for the first time, he did not want to be a "thing", he wanted to be "someone".

Because he is "someone" who can be by her side.

He envied humans in a way, for being able to gather around a campfire and have a normal life. Every animal returns to its den at dusk, or leaves it to hunt, but this creature has no place to call a "den" or "home" as humans call it. He hides in caves or any available corner to spend the night, avoiding sunlight so that people do not see the flaws in his disguise.

For the first time in the creature's entire life, he felt that the path from his "den" led to you.

You are his home.

And if he could be a dog at your feet, this would be it. You yourself could choose a collar and chain especially for him.

Chain him up.

Put a collar with his name on it, identify him as something of yours.

Put your name and number on the collar, so that everyone knows he belongs to you.

It's already decided. It's you he wants. No one else.

Now he understands the story of Kain and Abel, he too would kill to receive such a divine blessing.

As he crawls through the darkness he thinks of strategic plans to get into your house. Maybe he has to get rid of that white cat, he wouldn't share your precious attention with him. Maybe he has to create more rats and kill them in front of you, performing a play in which he comes out as the hero and you are so grateful that you let him into the house. Or maybe…

Maybe he has to get rid of your disgusting scoundrel of a boyfriend, steal his skin and throw him into the darkness. Because who else would YN forgive for acting strange? The creature doesn't know how to be a functional human… he can still make some mistakes while living with you, learn from other humans and from movies, who knows?

A creature of his kind needs to kill to steal a skin, eat to take the place of another. A macabre laugh echoes from the dog's mouth, malicious satisfaction as he makes the plan in his head, steps idealized in his evil mind.

In a single night, he will visit the scoundrel Kain and a powerful shaman, the night is young and his plans are ambitious, a lot to plan and plan. Oh, how good it is to have the malicious mind of humans, capable of planning things as simple as a hunt or something as grand as a coup.

Now tell me, sweet YN, did you lock your bedroom door?

Are you sure?

So what is that behind you?

Tags: @buniwtch @spookynotkid @aminekun009 @twinklingbeautifulstars @heizouislife @cheesecakeyuri @hewhehe @sumeyyeecrin

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

If you want to be tagged in future posts, comment here! ( ^^ )

[spiderman2-99]

✨:guilty-Gabriella

[5.20.2022, TRN-1042]

Gabriella had been… unusually sullen in the car ride after school today. Today was PTA meeting day, and one of the discussions was about some C’s in certain classes. The teacher told Miguel how he could help, that otherwise his daughter was a treat to have in class, etc etc., sometimes kids just struggle with some subjects. Miguel understood just fine, promised that he'd help, reassured that it was just a monetary setback, all that.

But Gabriella had been sulking in the passenger’s seat the whole ride home. At best, she’d give monosyllabic answers to Miguel if he asked anything— a far cry from the usual ball of energy he'd come to know and love over the last couple months.

She curls up a little in the seat, her forehead leaning on the glass of the window, arms crossed. She looks… disappointed in herself. Or apprehensive, maybe? Miguel won’t claim to be emotionally intelligent, as much as he tried to be for Gabriella’s sake. He never had to be until Gabiella. Shock. He still has so much to learn. Too much to learn.

He swallows thickly before finally breaking the heavy silence that descended upon the car ride.

“Gabi,” he begins, his voice gentle yet firm, "something's clearly bothering you. You've been silent since we left school. Is everything okay?"

Well. That was a lame start that, as expected, didn't get an answer beyond a half-hearted shrug. Dios en el cielo. He really doesn't want to pull teeth.

"Is it... about the C’s in your report card?"

The last sentence makes her wince slightly. So that was a yes.

(Miguel can't stop the awful thought of what if the other Miguel yelled at her about grades? He has to physically shake his head slightly to clear it.)

She shifts a moment in her seat. “I know, I’ll study harder…” she murmurs like she’s preparing herself for the gallows.

Miguel lets out a sigh through his nose. He isn't entirely an idiot, he figures it's more than just the report card— or maybe something so pressing that it's causing the slip. The problem is trying to get to it delicately; which is much more difficult than it should be for him. Being... soft, gentle, paternal just doesn't come naturally for him. He never had that sort of role model, and now he's flying blind in a life he stole, at any moment about to ruin it, and the sweet little girl that came with it-

Okay, no, no. Breathe. Get your head on straight, O'Hara. You're better than that.

“It’s not just about the grades, is it?” he urges. “There’s something else bothering you, and I want to know what it is."

He risks a sidelong glance. She has to know he's serious. "I’m here to listen, Gabi. I promise."

“I dunno… it’s kinda dumb, but…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Miguel can see Gabriella sit up straight, hesitating, trying to collect her thoughts. He won’t rush her.

“You’ve been forgetting a lot lately. Like… remember when I told you about Emily’s birthday? I’ve been friends with her forever, but you had to use a GPS to find her house. And sometimes I’ll tell you about something we did a year ago, and I can tell you’re trying to act like you remember but you don’t. And when we visited Abuela, you acted weird around her, like you didn't know her at all.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. His daughter, his beautiful, wonderful, smart daughter, noticed the discrepancies between him and the man he’d replaced; the gaps in his cover. It was only a matter of time before she put the pieces together.

"You've been forgetting events for school, and getting lost in our own city, and when tío Gabriel visited, you couldn't even keep up with the conversation he was making 'cause he was bringing up things you didn't remember..."

Then, Gabriella turns to him and gives him a look with those big, watery hazel eyes that makes him want to throw himself off a cliff. “Did you get hurt at work, Papa?”

...

Well. Maybe a little more time.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his fingers clenching the steering wheel tighter. "No, sweetheart, I didn't hurt myself at work," he reassures, but the lie tastes bitter on his tongue. "It's just..."

“Something complicated again?” She interjects, going back to looking out the window.

Miguel grumbles in frustration. He should’ve realized his daughter would be just as much of a smart-ass as him. "Yes, mija, it's something complicated. But I promise, I'm handling it."

'Complicated' is an understatement. It’s a whole paradox, a breach in reality, a cosmic crime against nature. He hates not being honest with her, but how the hell is he supposed to say ‘your real father is dead and I replaced him’?

God, he's a coward.

Miguel would give everything, anything, to make sure she’s okay through all of this. But the more time passed, the more he knew he didn’t deserve to be her father. He isn't her papa. He could never be.

"It’s nothing you need to worry about, okay?” he continues through the lump in his throat. “It’s something... something only adults have to deal with.”

"Everyone always says that; it's always something 'only adults deal about'," she retorts, glowering at her father. "It's affecting me too, but anytime I ask—"

"I can't tell you, okay?" he snaps, his voice strained; the tension rising between them as foreboding as storm clouds in the horizon. He has to take a deep breath before he continues, forcing a calmness in his voice. "I can't. Please, you have to trust me. It’s- it's for your own good, mija."

"And that's another thing they tell me; it's aaaalways 'for my own good'-"

"Gabi..."

"-but how can I trust you when you don't trust me, huh?"

"Gabi."

"When you're acting all weird and not telling me anything anymore and-"

"Gabriella Angela O'Hara."

She winces and shrinks back into her seat. Christ in Heaven, this is going all wrong, and it feels like all Miguel can do is watch it happen.

"You think I don’t want to tell you?" He continues, grinding his jaw to keep the rising anger out of his voice. The last thing she needs is his anger. He can't act like George O'Hara. "You think I want to keep you in the dark? Do you think I like hiding things from you? I’m doing this to protect you, because..."

Miguel's words trail off. He can’t say ‘because I’m not your real father.’

Baffled, hurt, she presses on. "Because what? You- you think I'm too stupid or something? I can't handle it?"

Christ, isn't that a wonderful, ice cold jolt to his already frayed nerves? "No! No, it's not that! You're not stupid, you're the most brilliant, amazing child I've ever met."

He swallows hard. The lump in his throat feels like a brick.

"It’s not that I think you can’t handle it, it's that you're still just a kid! And you shouldn't have to handle it!"

Gabi lets out a long groan, slumping her head against the headrest, but seems to drop the subject.

Momentarily.

Long enough to lull Miguel into a false sense of security. Long enough for him to pull in their driveway before he hears--

"Still get to feel it all go to shit though," grumbled under her breath; only audible due to Miguel's enhanced hearing.

He kills the engine and just... sits there a moment; the silence thick and oppressive, thoroughly killing any semblance of energy he had left. The language suddenly doesn't even feel worth reprimanding.

Slowly, he turns to look at her. His daughter. His sweet, beautiful, brilliant baby girl. The only thing left in the world that is truly good.

I'm ruining her.

Then again, he ruined her the second he inserted himself into a life that wasn't his. He should've known this charade would blow up in his face. God knows he can never have anything nice without having to fight for it; tearing into it with his teeth and shocking it all up from his own desperation.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, pained.

"Gabi," he begins, his tone heavy with a mix of guilt and frustration. "I... I'm doing the best I can. I'm trying."

She doesn't even look at him. "Not trying good enough."

Shocking hell. Out of all the things she could inherit from her father, did it have to be his bull-headedness and the ability to cut where it hurts? It's bad enough on him, but when it's someone else? When it's the truth?

He has to fight the urge to snap back, to say something he’ll regret, to prove his own inadequacy correct. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes a breath in an attempt to collect himself.

Operating word being 'attempt'.

Bile still leaks into Miguel's voice as he grates out, "Get out and go to your room."

"What-" So now she decides to spare me a glance.

"Get out," he repeats, low and deliberate, "and go to your room. I don't- I can't be with you right now."

The pause that follows as his words sink in isn't just pregnant; it's straight-up post-due with a necrotic placenta and a calcified fetus.

The words are already out; no taking back even if he felt they deserved to be. Gabriella's expression morphs from horrified to disgusted to a sort of passive anger.

Finally, the silence is broken by the sound of her seatbelt clicking. Then, "fine. I don't wanna be with you either," followed by the car door slamming.

There's no parting barb, no further vitriol thrown at him. Maybe there should've been; there'd at least be some sort of outlet for Miguel to let out his metric shitton of pent-up frustration and sheer, utter rage. They'd both deserve it then.

But there is nothing.

Just a broken, run-down, irreparably shocked up man trying to pretend to be a father; the role fitting him as good as if he'd skinned his alternate's face and wore it on top of his own. Why did he bother? Gabriella doesn't deserve her life being ruined by a genetic abomination from another world deluding himself to be something capable of loving.

He slumps his head against the steering wheel and screams.

[wlfchnlv3r]

Heyyy I saw your requests are open! Would you write about teacher and student? I know many people don't like to write about that, that's why I'm asking. Hope you have a great dayyy🫶🫶

I’m not comfortable writing about big age gap, so i just thought about making a fic where he is a new college teacher (around 26 years old) and the reader is NOT A MINOR, so she is an ADULT therefor she is +18 (I’m European you can imagine her being +21 if you feel more comfortable).

Right person wrong time

Studen!Fem Reader x Art teacher!Hyunjin

Synopsis: Hyunjin is your college art teacher… or maybe was?

Word count: 1k

Wearing: none

Note: please like i said over here, THE READER IS NOT A MINOR, so please don’t come at me :) enjoy lovely people ✨

Hyunjin was your art teacher… your young and gorgeous art teacher, he had moved to your university a year ago, and since then he just had eyes for you.

You two started talking after classes and even exchanged numbers… it was wrong but you couldn’t help it.

As months passed, one thing led to another, you guys started dating and everything seems perfect until one day of May, which you remember as one of the worst days of your life.

Hyunjin called you after his class into his office, and you both started arguing because of your “relationship”, you just wanted to be with him, but he said your whole story was wrong.

It was the first and only time he yelled at you, “we can’t be together! Why can’t you understand it?!!” Hyunjin shouted at you before leaning down on his chair.

You were taken aback and just watched him in silence.

"You dont understand! We can't be together because I can lose my job… you're my student... and-“ he said and looked at you while his head was on his hand. He was in pain as he placed a hand on his forehead before continuing “I'm a teacher and you're a student.. and I know we both have feelings for each other... but- this relationship cannot… exist” he mumbled and looked away while his heart was hurting like hell.

You were hurt, everything was… falling apart, your relationship, your plans and everything you two have shared.

You tried to talk back but all that came out from your mouth was a whisper “what?…”.

Hyunjin looked at you again and leaned more on his chair, covering his face with his hands, clearly frustrated.

"It doesn't matter if I like you... We can't date because I'm a Goddamn teacher, y/n, I will lose my job if someone finds out, and you're- you are my student..." he let out a long sigh as he started to watch some papers to distract himself from what was going on.

You stayed silent for a few moments, before speaking with a low tone “it’s- ok” you just wanted to go home and cry.

He slowly placed his hands down on his lap and looked up at you, his face expressing the pain he was feeling “You... you really understand it..?" Hyunjin asked in a quiet voice, almost surprised.

You started to feel a mixture of pain and anger, what he was saying was right, you understood it, you weren’t stupid or something, “I’m not dumb but- damn you knew it! You knew it from the start and you didn’t stop. You didn’t even stop me from feeling something for you.” your voice started to raise involuntarily.

He took a deep breath, his expression turning to guilt “I know, I should've never.. I knew it from the start...” Hyunjin mumbled to himself, his eyes avoiding yours, as he fiddled with his fingers, clearly frustrated with himself.

"I know, I should’ve just ignore my feelings for you and stay professional.." He finally spoke while throwing some paperwork on his desk, his head hurt like hell, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

He looked down, guilt and pain written on his face "But i .. I couldn't.. I just couldn't keep it in.." He almost whispered.

He knew it was wrong to develop feelings for a student. He should've stayed professional in the first place. But it was too hard to hold it in.

You were starting to shake but you just took a breath before nodding.

Hyunjin looked at you again, his eyes filled with pain and contrasting emotions "It's not that I don't want to date you... I do... I really do.." he said quietly, his eyes locked on yours "But it's just... it's just.. impossible... and wrong” he finished.

You wanted to go home, or just leave in general because it was becoming too much to handle “i- i have to go” you said.

Hyunjin's expression changed drastically as you said that you have to go, and he quickly stood up from his chair and walked to you, not wanting you leave. “Wait- just... don't go.." he said desperately, grabbing your wrist to stop you, not letting you leave.

He held onto your wrist tightly, his eyes filled with pain. "Please... please, stay... I-" Hyunjin took a deep breath, his voice cracking a bit "I don't... want you to go.. not yet.." His hand was holding your wrist firmly.

You let out a shaky breath “you said it clear and i understand- now i wanna go home” you were trying so hard not to cry.

He let out an unsteady breath, his eyes watering up a bit, but he knew he had to let you go. But it was so hard to.

He slowly released his grip on your wrist, but his hand lingered over yours for a moment, before pulling away. "O-okay... okay.. go.." Hyunjin said in a quiet whisper, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he was hurting more and more.

You nodded and for the last time left his office.

Once you were gone, Hyunjin couldn't hold it anymore. He leaned his back against the closed door, and slide down until he hit the floor. He placed his head on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he silently cursed himself for being so weak for you. He desperately wanted to hold onto you and never let you go. But he just couldn't "Goddammit...".

After a week of not showing up to the lessons you change degree program and just start to ignore his existence, just like he did.

5 years after college (present)

You are walking with your boyfriend in an art gallery, it’s so crowded and you cant help but bump into someone.

“My fault, sorry” you hear a familiar voice and look up before meeting his gaze.

You just stay silent for a moment, a lot of emotions going on inside your head, it’s him.

You boyfriend approaches the man and, the one you think is his girlfriend, “sorry man”

You remain silent like the person you hit a few seconds ago.

Finally your boyfriend breaks the ice “did you two know each other?” At those words you just snap out your mind “no- uhm…nice to meet you, I’m y/n” you fake a smile.

“Hyunjin and this is Kayl… have we-“ Hyunjin stops confused by your words “- met before?” He finally finishes.

“no- I don’t think so…” you lie.

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere

(Comment to be added to the tag list🎐)

[brotherwtf]

Having thoughts about age gap au Gale hiding an injury/illness from John because his dad always made him feel like a burden and that hurt was deserved 💔 and John losing his mind but trying not to show it as he takes care of Gale, or maybe he doesn't get to because Gale has to go to the hospital and John gets the call while he's at work </3 these boys can fit so much whump and trauma and comfort

ughhhh yes putting Gale into the whump blender again :(( I want to traumatize this boy forever that is my lot in life

----

Gale knew to never show weakness. It's what he was taught from an incredibly young age, weakness meant you could be picked from the crowd, weakness meant that you weren't good enough.

There was a lot of things Gale's father viewed as a weakness. Being sick, scraping your knees, getting hurt and you better not think about crying because at that point you'd be better off dead anyway. Gale learned to hide it whenever he got sick, to lick his wounds in solitude, and to never, ever, ask for help or pity.

So Gale didn't even flinch when he woke up with a 102 degree fever. He's lived through worse, no need to be a baby about it. He got ready for his classes like normal, kissed John goodbye, and waved off his looks of concern when John pressed his cheek to Gales forehead, fretted about him running hot. Gale was fine, he didn't need John's help.

He was able to get through his first class without many problems, he felt waves of nausea periodically and some bouts of lightheadedness, but Gale wasn't going to let that take him down. His second class was a little worse, his hands quivered when he tried to write and the nausea stayed, no longer ebbing in and out in waves.

Gale passes out around lunchtime, Marge by his side and all he can really hear is her anxious fretting, calls of his name and yelling at someone to phone the hospital. He remembers weakly trying to push her off, says he's fine, but Marge tells him to shut the fuck up, he's going to the damn hospital. He doesn't remember much after that.

He wakes up to the soft beeping of a heart monitor, the bright fluorescent lights of a hospital room and he groans. Gale shouldn't be here. He's taking up the space that someone else needs more, he doesn't deserve the time or energy that people are wasting on him. He doesn't get to dwell too much before John is quickly at his side, taking his hand and pushing his hair back. His lips press into a thin line, palm pressing against the sure heat that Gale gives off.

"Baby? Are you okay? God Marge told me you collapsed and I left work immediately. Fuck Gale you should have told me you weren't feeling good," John frets and Gale just shakes his head weakly.

"I'm fine, John. I'm good, you didn't need to leave work just for me. When are they gonna let me out?" Gale asks and his voice is hoarse.

John's brow furrows and his expression grows stern.

"Gale, no, you're not fine. You have a 103 degree fever and you're shaking like a damn leaf. I'm not gonna stay at work when I know you're sick," John says and Gale can feel another wave of nausea that isn't caused by the sickness.

Gale turns his head against the pillow, avoiding John's gaze and he can feel his eyes well up. No, no, he can't cry. Crying is the worst thing he could do right now. But the tears come anyway, streaming down his face steadily and John rushes down to wipe them away, fretting all over again.

"Hey, hey, baby, Gale, come on don't cry. It's okay, I'm not mad I swear. You should have just told me you weren't feeling well, I could have helped, then maybe you wouldn't have fainted," John says, a firm thumb brushing away the tears that stream down his face and Gale shakes his head.

"Don't... don't wanna be a burden," Gale manages to choke and John shushes him and forces Gale's head to turn towards him.

John's face is both soft and firm, his eyes filled with emotion that's both frustration and affection. Gale hates how worried he looks, just because Gale's a little bit sick.

"Gale, you will never be a burden to me. I promised your mama I would protect you, and I promised you the same. I love you, Gale, and if it takes me dropping everything for you to understand how much you mean to me, I'll do it in a heartbeat," John says, cupping Gale's face with both of his hands.

Gale squeezes his eyes shut because he knows if he looks at John anymore he'll just ugly sob, grabs John's wrist and nuzzles his soaked face into it, gasps and chokes as he continues to sob, John shushing him and bringing him in closer until their foreheads are pressed together, breathing heavily against his face.

"I swear, Gale, you are not a burden. You are my everything, doll, my everything," John whispers, and Gale can only nod, finally allowing himself to melt into the sheets, letting himself feel fatigued and exhausted and sick because John is letting him, allowing him to let go.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good morning, Sleepyhead.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[dailyloopdeloop]

loop and mirabelle. That's it that's the ask

DAY 84: enrolled in the gossip wars

[creekfiend]

note to self

you can't write a coherent memoir that makes the things that happened in your life feel like one continuous story. write it like you remember it, anyway. write it anyway. write it like you remember it, in little jerky snapshots that don't fit together. write it like it is in your head. make everyone else feel as disoriented about it as you do. write it in a series of little mini comics that don't fit together. write each one separately. don't TRY to connect them. this is the only way you will ever communicate what happened to you

[sysig]

Party (group) party (celebratory)! (Patreon)

[dravidious]

Thank you for being awesome

Hello and welcome back to every budget player's favorite game show...

Nerf! That! Rare!

Where we look at cards that are pissing off the writer on arena and knock them down a peg!

Our first participant, hailing from Innistrad and fighting against the eternal night, it's Adeline, Resplendent Cathar!

Coming down on turn three, Adeline gives you a free 1/1 every time you attack. Its power will almost always be at least 3, and with 4 toughness and vigilance, it's tough to deal with on either offense or defense. Having 4 toughness especially means that most other 3-drop creatures won't even be able to trade with Adeline. So how might we keep the card's fundamental qualities intact while stopping ourselves from ripping our hair out every time it's cast on curve?

Like this! This rework makes several small tweaks, such as forcing Adeline herself to attack in order to make a token. This delays the token summoning by one turn, and also leaves Adeline vulnerable to being blocked and killed. The drop to 3 toughness helps put Adeline on par with other 3-drop creatures, since her token spawning and boundless power are advantage enough. And to give Adeline a nice round -1/-1, her power scaling only counts OTHER creatures, not herself, requiring more commitment to a swarming strategy to get proper value out of her.

Our next participant, a praetor hailing from New Phyrexia, the scourge of the current standard, it's Sheoldred, the Apocalypse!

Reminiscent of the menacing Siege Rhino, Sholdred comes packing with infinite life drain and a bulky body. Just like Adeline, that extra toughness puts Sheoldred out of trading range of other 4-drops, and that deathtouch means that double blocking her is still a -1 in card advantage. And that's IF she's even attacking! Sheoldred's greatest power is that she can just sit there stopping attacks while the opponent bleeds to death, unable to win even with evasion thanks to that life gain. How can we be free from the oppression of this phyrexian ruler?

With a simple tweak to the numbers! The difference a single point of toughness can make truly is incredible; just ask Sheoldred's grandpa Siege Rhino! The rhino will also tell you just how powerful life draining can be, and Sheoldred's life drain is even stronger! Or rather, it was. Getting 4+ free damage while the opponent scrambles to find an answer is a lot, so slowing that clock down means that Sheoldred needs to play the long game to win.

Back on Innistrad, we've got not a participant but an event that got a little TOO festive, it's Wedding Announcement! // Wedding Festivity!

A Glorious Anthem that comes with 3 tokens and/or card draw is powerful indeed, and the slow speed of it just isn't enough to offset its sheer long-term value. Not much to say about this one, 3 mana for a trio of 2/2s is just too powerful! But with its various effects and use of counters and transforming, this enchantment seems very reminiscent of a certain art form of Kamigawa...

Now that's more like it! In terms of pure value, this rework reduces the number of triggers from 3 down to 2, in exchange for an extra scry and flipping one turn earlier. And that chapter 2 ability really requires you to commit to the swarming strategy to get full value, no sitting back and collecting tokens!

Heading back to New Phyrexia, weighing in at 4 mana with a mighty 5/5 statline, it's Phyrexian Obliterator!

If you thought a +1 in card advantage was strong, wait until you see a +5! This 4-drop can annihilate the opponent's board if they dare to attack, with stats strong enough to beat most other 4-drops and survive to cause more carnage! With just one card, you can completely shut down your opponent's combat phase! Its 5 power and trample means that you're not even safe on the defense, as chump blocking it is impossible and trading with it will cost you everything. The only counterplay is to hope you can get a big enough board to either kill your opponent in one swing, or sacrifice all your lands and win with pure momentum. And yet, the nerf is the simplest one yet! Sacrificing 5 permanents is a death sentence...

... but sacrificing 1 is just a mild pain! It can even keep its beefy stats as a reward for paying that harsh mana cost. But just be safe, it's not a horror anymore, which is because horror tribal support is extremely dangerous and definitely not because I forgot to put the subtype.

Finally, last but not least for this episode of Nerf That Rare, it's the most obnoxious card in all of magic...

Every Planeswalker Ever!

Not only does this card generate infinite value over time culminating in a game-winning effect, it also works much better if you're already winning the game, while being nothing but a glorified sorcery if you're losing, crushing any hopes of comebacks when drawn no matter which player draws it! But the smallest little tweak can make this card much more fun:

Much better

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[i-appear-misssing]

I can't remember if I cried 6 years ago when I got hurt the first time

[daeluin]

u know spotify u can just call me a slur to my face

[chosok-amo]

MY LITTLE VIRGIN ！ ❞

GOJO SATORU , your used to be upperclassmen who happened to be your friends-with-benefits teaching you how to kiss, also the one who took your virginity.

warning. highschool! gojo satoru ( early twenty and you are nineteen ), virginity lost, fingering, raw/unprotected sex.

wc. 2,8k

“hehe... it's amusing how you're still clueless about kissing,” gojo remarked, seated on your bed. his fingers traced along your neck, gently moving up to your chin. in your friends-with-benefits dynamic, you'd sought gojo's guidance on kissing, a proposition he willingly accepted.

“prepare for the best kiss of your life,” gojo chuckled, leaning in closer to your face. lifting your chin, he gazed at your lips with a playful glint in his eyes. blushing profusely under gojo's intense gaze, you nervously lick your lips. “i'm ready, satoru. . .” your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain eye contact with him.

gojo smirks at your nervousness, finding it endearing. he leans in, closing the distance between your faces until his breath caresses your skin. gojo's smirk widens as he notices your blush deepening. his thumb gently brushes against your lower lip, parting them slightly. “nervous? there's no need to be. just relax and let me guide you...”

with those words, gojo closes the remaining gap between you. his lips meet yours in a tender yet passionate kiss. his free hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your head for better access as he deepens the kiss.

after a moment, he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “like this... follow my lead and let instinct take over.” feeling overwhelmed but also strangely exhilarated by gojo's expert touch, you nod, trying to follow his instructions. your hands tentatively reach up to rest on his shoulders, holding onto him for support as he continues to guide you through the kiss.

as he pulls away again, you can't help but whimper softly in protest. but then you see that teasing smile on his lips and realize there's more to come. his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, gojo chuckles softly at your reaction. “oh? did you want more already?”

without waiting for an answer, he captures your lips once again in another searing kiss. this time though, he adds a new element— his tongue slips past your parted lips seeking entrance into your mouth. the sensation is overwhelming and intoxicating all at once. you find yourself responding eagerly, mimicking gojo’s movements as if driven by some primal urge.

pulling back after what seems like eternity but was probably mere seconds, gojo gazes down at you with satisfaction. “see? that wasn’t so bad now was it?” but before giving you time to respond, he leans in once more for another tantalizing kiss.

moaning softly into the kiss, you wrap your arms around gojo's neck, pulling him closer. your body feels electrified from the intimate contact, and you can't get enough of his taste, his scent, the way he makes you feel.

when he finally breaks the kiss again, you're left panting and dazed, struggling to regain your composure. “th-that was... s-satoru,” you manage to stammer out, your cheeks flushed a deep crimson. looking up at gojo with hooded eyes, you bite your lip and murmur, “more please... teach me everything...”

a low chuckle rumbles from within gojo's chest as he takes note of your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. “mmm... you're quite the eager student aren't you?” he leans down to capture your lips once more in a long, slow kiss that leaves both of you breathless when it ends. pulling back slightly, gojo looks into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“i’ll teach you everything... but remember, practice makes perfect. so let's keep practicing until we've perfected this art form together.” and without waiting for another word from you, he dives back into another passionate kiss— this time taking things even further than before.

lost in the whirlwind of sensations, you forget all about being shy or inexperienced. all that matters right now is gojo and the way he makes your entire body tingle.

your hands roam freely across his back, feeling every muscle beneath his shirt. you press yourself closer to him, wanting nothing more than to lose yourself completely in this kiss. every flicker of gojo's tongue against yours sends sparks shooting throughout your body. each brush against your sensitive lips draws moans from deep within your throat.

breaking away from the kiss momentarily, you gasp for air while looking up at gojo with lust-filled eyes. “more... please don't stop...” gojo grins wolfishly at your plea, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, “as you wish...”

he trails hot kisses along your jawline and down the column of your throat, occasionally nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. one of his hands slides underneath your shirt, skimming over your stomach and ribcage before cupping your breast.

at the same time, his knee nudges your legs apart as he settles himself between them. the pressure of his hips against yours sends jolts of pleasure through your core. returning to your lips, gojo kisses you deeply, passionately, pouring all of his desire into the embrace. when he finally pulls away, you're both panting heavily.

“how do you feel now? ready for round two?”

your mind is foggy with lust, unable to process coherent thoughts beyond the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. all you know is that you crave more of gojo's touch, more of his kisses, more of everything he's doing to you.

arching into his touch, you press your breast harder against his palm, silently begging for more stimulation. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction against the hard length of gojo's thigh. when he asks if you're ready for round two, you can only nod frantically, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form words. your lips seek his out once more, demanding another scorching kiss.

this time, as your tongues dance, you start to explore gojo's mouth with yours, learning the contours and depths of him. a satisfied growl escapes gojo as he feels your breasts pressing into his hand and your hips grinding against him. he loves seeing how responsive you are to his touches, how eager you are for more.

sliding one finger down from your breast, he teases along the waistband of your pants before dipping beneath the fabric. his digit traces lazy circles against your heated flesh, drawing soft whimpers from deep within your throat.

breaking off from the kiss, gojo looks down at you with a burning desire in his eyes. “let's make sure this second round is even better than the first...” with those words, he plunges two fingers inside you, curling them upwards to stroke that sweet spot hidden within. at the same time, his thumb finds its way to your clit and begins circling slowly around it.

“feel good?”

a loud moan tears itself from your throat as gojo's fingers delve deeper, hitting spots inside you that you didn't even know existed. your back arches off the bed, pushing your chest towards him. his thumb on your clit is pure torture— each circle sending waves of pleasure radiating outward. it feels incredible, too much and not nearly enough all at once.

your nails dig into gojo's back, leaving red marks where they claw at his skin. “‘toru. . .” you gasp out between moans, “feels so good...” your hips move instinctively against his hand, chasing after that elusive climax that seems tantalizingly close but always just out of reach.

gojo's eyes darken with lust as he watches you writhe beneath him, your face contorted in pleasure. he loves seeing you like this— completely uninhibited and at his mercy. “that's it baby, let go. give in to the pleasure...”

he increases the speed of his fingers, pumping them in and out of you at a rapid pace. his thumb presses down firmly on your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. gojo leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to mix pain with pleasure. his other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“come for me. i want to feel you fall apart on my fingers.”

the combination of gojo's relentless fingering and relentless thumbing sends shockwaves of ecstasy crashing through your body. every thrust of his fingers, every circle of his thumb pushes you higher and higher until there's no turning back. a strangled cry rips from your throat as you finally tip over the edge. your walls clench around gojo's fingers in rhythmic spasms, pulsating with each wave of orgasmic bliss that washes over you.

your entire world narrows down to the feeling of gojo's fingers inside you and his thumb working magic on your clit. the pleasure is so intense, so overpowering that it threatens to consume you whole. as the last tremors subside, you collapse back onto the bed— spent yet utterly satisfied.

gojo continues to pump his fingers slowly inside you as you come down from your high, milking every last drop of your release. once your spasms have ceased, he withdraws his fingers with a satisfied smirk.

“look at you, coming undone so beautifully for me. you took your lesson well, i must say.”

he brings his fingers to his lips, sucking your essence off them with a low hum of appreciation. “delicious. . .” leaning over you, gojo captures your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, letting you taste yourself on him. after a moment, he pulls back with a mischievous glint in his eye, “but we're far from done, sweetheart. there are still plenty more lessons to be learned... and i'm just getting started.”

even though you're still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, a fresh wave of arousal surges through you at gojo's words. the thought of what else he might teach you sends tingles racing down your spine.

you manage to push myself up onto your elbows, your heavy-lidded gaze locked onto gojo's handsome face. “show me, teach me everything...” without waiting for him to respond, you reach down and unbutton your pants with shaky hands. the cool air hits my overheated skin as you peel off your clothes piece by piece, exposing more and more of yourself to gojo’s hungry eyes.

your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you lay bare before him— vulnerable yet filled with anticipation for whatever comes next. watching you strip off your clothes, gojo's cock twitches eagerly against his own trousers. he lets out a low chuckle, admiring the sight of your flushed skin and swollen breasts.

“i love seeing you like this— open and willing. it's incredibly arousing...” he moves closer, his blue eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of exposed flesh. reaching out, he runs a single finger down the center line of your body from collarbone to belly button, savoring the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch.

“now, let's see how well you can please someone.”

with that said, gojo starts unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. his throbbing member springs free— long and thick— standing proudly erect against his lower abdomen.

“are you ready to take me on?”

your breath hitches in your throat as you watch gojo undo his belt and unzip his trousers. the sight of his erect member makes your pussy clench in longing. in response to his question, you nod vigorously, unable to form words due to the intense desire clouding your senses.

you reach out tentatively towards him, wanting nothing more than to wrap your fingers around his shaft and guide it towards your needy entrance. but instead of taking control, you wait patiently for him to initiate contact again.

as you lie there before him— naked and wanting— anticipation builds within you like never before, finally realizing that gojo is going to be the one who took your virginity. gojo smirks at your eagerness, enjoying the way you stare hungrily at his manhood. he steps out of his trousers and kicks them aside, revealing himself fully to you.

“there's no need to rush... we've got all night.”

he positions himself between your spread legs, leaning down to tease the head of his cock against your slick folds. the tip rubs gently against your clit, spreading your wetness across both areas. looking up into your eyes, gojo gives you a wicked grin, “relax and enjoy the ride...”

slowly, he begins pushing into you— stretching your tight walls deliciously wide around him. each inch that enters fills you up more completely than anything ever has before.

“feels fucking amazing doesn’t it?”

“fuck!” you cried in pain the moment he's bottomed out inside you. your nails digging into his biceps and eyes tightly shut from the pain of your virginity being taken with his massive cock.

at your sharp intake of breath and pained cry, gojo pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sudden fullness. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, offering reassurance despite the fierce grip of your nails on his arms.

“shh, it's okay... just breathe. you're doing great.”

once you seem more comfortable, he carefully starts to rock his hips, withdrawing slightly before pressing back in at a slower, more controlled pace. the movement helps ease the initial discomfort, gradually building the pleasurable friction between your joined bodies.

“see? this isn't so bad, is it? in fact, it feels pretty damn good already...” as gojo starts moving, the initial pain begins to fade, replaced by an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation. it's almost like your body is remembering how to accommodate something so large inside you.

you manage a weak nod, still struggling to catch your breath, “y-yeah... it's okay now. . .” emboldened by the gentle rhythm, you start to move your hips in sync with gojo's, meeting him thrust for thrust. a soft moan escapes your lips as the pressure builds anew, this time centered on the sweet spot deep within you that he seems to hit perfectly with every stroke.

mindlessly, you tangle your fingers in his white hair, pulling him down for a desperate, clinging kiss as if trying to merge your very souls together through the intimate act. gojo grins against your lips, pleased by your growing responsiveness. he deepens the kiss further, tasting your sweetness while continuing his steady thrusts.

“that's right... let go and feel everything...”

he breaks away from the kiss only to trail hot kisses down along your jawline and neck. with each downward stroke of his tongue against sensitive skin, he matches it with another slow plunge into your welcoming depths.

feeling your inner muscles clenching around him drives gojo wild; he can tell that despite being a novice at sex, you were born for this kind of pleasure. the combination of gojo's relentless thrusts and teasing kisses sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. your mind becomes a blur of sensations— the feeling of him filling you completely, the sound of his low growls echoing in your ears, even the scent that surrounds you is intoxicating.

a loud gasp tears itself from your throat as he finds that perfect spot again and again, causing sparks to fly behind your closed eyelids, “oh god! ’toru. . .”

your entire focus narrows down to the point where they connect— it's overwhelming but also addictive. you find yourself arching up into him instinctively, urging him deeper.

“please don't stop. . .”

hearing you beg for more spurs gojo on, his movements becoming more urgent and powerful. he grips your hips firmly, using the leverage to piston into you at a frenzied pace.

“fuck, you feel incredible, so tight and wet for me.” his harsh breathing mingles with yours as he chases his impending climax, driven mad by the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping his cock. “gonna fill you up so g-good, baby, mark you as mine...”

gojo's thrusts grow erratic as he nears the edge, his balls drawing up tight against his body. with a final, brutal shove, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and holds still, roaring out his release as hot jets of cum flood your insides.

your whole body trembles violently beneath gojo as his seed floods your womb. the intense heat and pressure trigger an explosive orgasm in you, sending shockwaves of pure bliss radiating outward from your core.

your inner walls clench and flutter around his pulsing length, milking him for all he's worth. a strangled scream rips from your throat as wave after wave crashes over you, leaving you drenched in sweat and utterly spent.

“oh fuck! s-ah!atoru!”

as reality slowly comes back into focus, you realize just how deeply connected you two are at this moment— physically, emotionally and spiritually. there's no turning back now; you've been claimed by him in every possible way.

collapsing onto you, gojo lets out a satisfied sigh as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm. he plants tender kisses along your collarbone and chest, marking you as his own in ways beyond mere physical possession.

“that was... incredible.”

still buried deep within you, he slowly starts to withdraw from your clenching walls, allowing them to stretch and contract around his softening member. each pull sends another jolt of pleasure through your system, prolonging the high.

“feel better now?”

despite having just given you the most intense experience of your life, gojo looks at you with genuine concern and affection. after he collapses onto you, his heavy weight provides a comforting warmth against your cooling skin. his chest rises and falls rapidly against your breasts, matching the frantic beating of your heart.

despite the exhaustion seeping into every fiber of your being, there’s an undeniable satisfaction that settles deep within you. you run your fingers lazily through his disheveled hair, feeling proud yet vulnerable at having given yourself so completely to him.

“that was... incredible,” you murmur softly, give him a tired smile, looking up into those captivating blue eyes filled with raw desire and affection.

with a contented sigh, gojo leans down to capture your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. his tongue sweeps against yours softly, savoring the taste of you mixed with the musk of their combined arousal.

“mmm, i knew you'd be amazing...”

he pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes, his expression a mix of pride, adoration, and possessiveness, “you're mine now, in every sense of the word. never forget that.” gojo rolls off of you and gathers you close, cradling your body against his as he strokes your hair soothingly, “rest now, my little virgin. we've got a lifetime of pleasure ahead of us.”

nestled securely in gojo's embrace, you let out a happy sigh, feeling safe and cherished in his strong arms. your eyelids grow heavy as the aftermath of your intense lovemaking washes over you, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

in your dreams, you see flashes of the future— moments stolen from time, memories made with gojo, and a love that transcends the boundaries of life and death. when you awaken, you know without a doubt that you belong to him, and he to you, forevermore.

as you drift off to sleep nestled against him, gojo watches over you protectively. he runs his hand gently across your back, marveling at how different things could have turned out had he not intervened earlier today.

but fate brought you here, together. and though he may be many things— powerful mage, leader of jujutsu high school— nothing compares to how much he cares for this fragile human girl now lying trustingly beside him.

he smiles softly as he listens to your quiet breathing, knowing that whatever challenges await them both, they will face them side by side. for better or worse, you are his now.

“sleep well, my love.”

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

part two here

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

[murdrdocs]

80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT

logan doesn't trust you.

he doesn't know you well enough for you to have gained his trust, but he refuses to get to know you. there's no point. in logan's eyes, there's no reason for you to get comfortable.

you won't be here for long.

he doesn't care how much the studio believes in you, he doesn't believe in you. how could he? you're so fucking green that he can smell it on you. only starred in a couple movies before this one, both nothing compared to the expansive record that he has.

gum-smacking, lip gloss shining under the sun, flowy shirts, and tiny shorts. compared to his cigars, fitted jeans, and plaid, the two of you are polar opposites. even though logan sees something in you. that same arrogance he had at your age. it just looks different on you.

you confront him first. standing beside his car in the studio parking lot, resting your hip on the door like it’s your vehicle. you’re blocking the entrance, lazily smacking your gum as you squint at him.

logan doesn’t say anything. he stands there, hands on his hips, his restless fingers tapping against the worn leather of his belt. he shamelessly lets his eyes rake down your body, taking in the natural shape of your tits through your loose shirt, the expanse of your legs barely covered by your tiny shorts. briefly, logan wonders if you’re shaved like some of the other younger girls he’s filmed with.

he finds himself wanting to find out.

he’s wearing his shades, the thin wire-framed ones with brown lenses. he knows they aren’t opaque, he knows you can see the path his eyes take, but he doesn’t care. he holds off a smile when you adjust your stance and scoff.

“what’s your problem with me?”

logan shrugs dismissively.

apparently, his nonchalance upsets you even more. he expects you to give him some speech about how rude he is, how you deserve to be here just as much as he does, how you earned your spot in this production. whatever your little brain can come up with.

but you give him none of that. you push off of logan's truck, step out of his way, and saunter off with a final call of, "see you on wednesday!".

logan lets his eyes linger on the switch in your hips and the shape of your ass.

his eyes find that same spot on wednesday, his view unobstructed now as your bare skin is illuminated underneath the studio lights. he's just staring and he can't stop. his eyes watching the way your skin ripples as he fucks you from behind, following the curve of your back, all the way up to the crown of your head which reaches for him.

he knows at some point he's supposed to grab the ponytail you have. the director wants him to mess it up as much as possible, providing a good contrast from how dolled up you were before. most of that has been done naturally. for some reason, everything with you seems natural. logan's been in the game for a while, he's had to fake scenes before. it's part of the job description, to act according to how the audience would want the sex to go. but with you, logan doesn't think he's been acting at all.

the energy buzzes around his entire body the entire time. he doesn't ever forget that you're both being filmed, it would be hard to, but he loses himself in it. he loses himself in the way you know just what to do. the way you angle your body perfectly according to the camera position, the way you speak to him, the way you're so visibly remembering every single direction you were giving before filming began.

your competence is hot.

by the time filming is over and a production assistant is handing you a warm towel and your robe, logan's fucking spent.

you're just there grinning, watching logan down an entire bottle of water in one go. when he comes up for air, you stand before him, keeping your eyes on his.

"i see why you're known for your stamina," is all you say to him before you turn away and disappear, possibly unaware of the semi that was brewing beneath the towel covering logan's hips. 

the next time logan sees you, it's through a headshot. sitting on the casting director's desk, amongst three others, all labeled with names and facing him. he stands there for a second, hands crossed over his chest as he scans every picture.

"we just need to know who you think would be good for the next job," the casting director reiterates, his words smooth as they wrap around logan's mind.

logan doesn’t know why he’s pretending, why he's taking so long to answer a question that he knows the answer to.

he slides your picture up higher than the rest and leaves it at that.