#Gege out here wilding | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 1 year ago

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy - G.S.

Synopsis. He knows that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels. And you know that you want nothing more than to stay by his side. After meeting an alluring cowboy at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, both of you are sure of one thing - this must be fate.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, wild west! AU, cowboy! Satoru, mayor’s daughter! Reader, Satoru is SO DOWN BAD, angst, kinda slowburn, friends-to-lovers, bartender! Nanami, cunnilingus, oral sex (female + male receiving), unprotected sex, gun violence, pet names (m’lady, my love, + others), tumbleweed bandits, reader and Satoru are both going through stuff, Gege cameo, swearing, author’s daddy issues come out.

Word count. 12.1k (I’m scared)

A/N. You know how hard it was to make this all cowboy-y. Anyway that’s off the bucket list.

Art by @_3aem on X.

“So, you itchin’ for a beating from me or yer’ wife?”

Glowering down at the drunk old pervert as he waddled away in fear, you sigh as you dust down your heavy skirts. Typical. The sun beats down on your face as you look up at that familiar faded banner.

Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon

The only bar in your little town of Rustcliffe, and by default the only one around for miles. You hated this place - not the saloon, no, the handsome bartender there was always a sweetheart. But at some point, the comfort of your quaint old town had become too comfortable.

But that’s a story for another time. Right now, you were here to drag your father back home - per usual.

Rolling your eyes at the cacophony of drunken voices carrying from inside, you step through the dust-bitten swinging doors.

What hits you first is the stench of cheap alcohol, and then the inebriated camaraderie of the men around you. In the dim lighting of the saloon, you squeeze through the crowded tables and make your way to the bar.

Not a hair out of place, as usual, Nanami lights up when he spots you. “Well, it’s been a while. Here for the mayor again?” he speaks over the boisterous laughs around you.

You flash him a smile, “Yeah, you know my father. Fraternizin’ with the voters and all that.” you wave off your father’s excuse to come down here.

“Certainly takes his job very seriously.” Nanami chuckles, “You’ll find him over by the window, in the back.” he points.

Tipping your head in thanks, you walk the treacherous track to take your animated father home. When you come in view of his table, you find that he wasn’t alone. Damn, it was always harder to convince him to go when with other people.

You know your father has spotted you by his lively laugh and gleeful shouts, “Ah, my daughter! My beautiful daughter! Whatcha doin’ here? Come come! There’s someone I wan’ introduce you to.”

A smile slips out unintentionally at his almost-endearing pride. You mentally prepare yourself to say some awkward hellos to some of your father’s old drinking buddies before dragging him home.

Upon reaching your father, he immediately pulls you into a drunken embrace, wrapping his slightly rocky arm around your shoulders. “This is the daughter I was telling ya about! Prettiest girl in town! Hell, maybe even the country, knowin’ ma girl.” he prattles.

In his jovial state, he abruptly turns to face whoever he was drinking with, unsteady on his two feet. Probably another old geezer, you assume not taking your eyes off your father until you could make sure he won’t collapse on the bar floor for the third time this month.

Finally, you look up.

Your eyes meet blue.

Blue, blue summer skies.

To Satoru, you were the most gorgeous girl he’d ever seen. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you menacingly threatening that creep outside through the window, every word the mayor said went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the other. Too entranced.

And when he introduced you as his daughter? Shit, it might just be fate.

“C’mon now boy! Cat got yer’ tongue? What happened to that sharp mouth of yours?”

The booming voice of your father snaps Satoru out of his captivation. Damn, he must’ve been staring for too long.

Mentally praying you weren’t spooked by his speechlessness, he finally speaks, voice slightly shaky at your presence, “Ah- Good day m’lady. Apologies for my impoliteness, the name’s Satoru Gojo.” he tips his crisp white hat. Gently grasping your hand in his, he places a delicate kiss, looking up at you as he awaits your response.

You gaze, slightly awe-struck, at his ethereally beautiful white locks and the impish grin from where he held your hand. His lips were so soft.

“Oh!” you startle at the clap of your father’s hand on your shoulder. Shit, you were definitely staring too long. Rushing to introduce yourself, you quickly interject a “Nice to meet you, Satoru” before your father starts leading the conversation once more.

“Satoru here is a traveler, arrived jus’ today! Told him people like us could never, I mean imagine, right?” he slurs.

Your ears perk up at this piece of information, “Oh? Are you really a traveler, Satoru? How admirable.” you gush, previous bashfulness forgotten. Was that…a blush spreading across his face? Couldn’t be - your town's whiskey was known to give people rosy cheeks on occasion.

“Thank you, m’lady. It’s nothing special really, jus’ staying here a while.” he barely gets the words out before you father bellows a tangent - “Don’ be shy, boy! How wondrous traveling is, kids these days could use some toughening up!”

Both of you rush to catch your father as he sways with a passion seen only during election rallies. It takes the two of you to steady the man. As he continues babbling half-lucidly, you cock your head sweetly at Satoru, “Help me take him outside?”

Satoru thinks his knees might give out then and there.

The air is chilly by the time the three of you step outside, sun making its way below the horizon. Despite your father’s protests that he can ride home on his own, he knocks out as soon as Satoru gracefully mounts him on his horse. Carefully saddling behind him, you try to make sure your father doesn’t fall off of Satoru’s beautiful white Quarter horse.

“You really don’t have to escort us home, Satoru. My ol’ man wouldn’t even feel it if he fell, I swear.” you insist as Satoru holds onto the reins from the ground, feeling bad for bothering him.

“It’s no trouble. After all, Gege seems to like him very much, hm?” Satoru remarks as he turns to his stallion, who attempts to bite him in response, “Can’t say the same for myself.”

“Hmm, how can I be sure yer’ not a serial killer?” you tease, reveling in the sharp laugh it draws from him.

“You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me, m’lady.” he hums, eyes sparkling with mirth. There’s a lull in the conversation as Satoru pulls on the reins to start walking you down the road, the rhythmic clip-clop! of the horse filling the still air.

“So you travel?”

“This is a nice town.”

Both of you speak at once, anxious to fill the silence, only to sputter self-consciously.

“You can-”

“No no, it’s only customary for a lady to go first.” he hums, looking up at you.

“Tell me stories of your travels.” you breathe out, eager for any crumb of escape from your little town.

As you made your way home to the sprawling family ranch, the night adorned itself with twinkling stars that matched the mischievous glint in Satoru’s eyes as he told you bizarre tales from his life on the road.

“IN MY DEFENSE, it was dark an’ that tumbleweed was shaped suspiciously like a lowly bandit. Hey- don’t laugh- it was a very heated standoff!” Satoru exclaims animatedly as you cackle.

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Even bandits woulda run away from your clownery.” delighted at the way the moonlight illuminates the blush that tinges his ears.

Making a fool of himself, Satoru’s stories have you laughing until your cheeks hurt, wishing you could experience them too. You almost forget about your father’s deafening snores and the bite of the wind.

But Satoru does not. Brows furrowing as he catches your slight shiver, he mentally berates himself for forgetting his manners. How dare he let a lady suffer the cold while he still had his fuckin’ coat! What a sorry excuse for a cowboy, this is worse than that time he accidentally lassoed a rattlesnake.

Hastily shrugging his coat off, he passes it to you with a sheepish smile on his face.

Face heating up against the cold draft, you breathe in the smell of pine, amber, and something so Satoru. Clearly not as affected as you are, Satoru launches back into his stories.

If Satoru thought his knees were going to give out before then he knows they’re about to now. He aims to keep his eyes steadfast on the road as he recalls his endeavors, because he’s aware that even one glance at you all wrapped up in his coat wouldn’t be too good for him.

Making out the warm lights in the distance, his heart falls as he realizes his time with you is drawing to an end. You seem to share similar sentiments, as you sigh silently.

Once again, a silence falls upon you two (well, three if your slumbering father counted) - but this time, it was serene. You could almost drift to sleep if it wasn’t for your mother’s frantic calls for you from the front porch.

“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried! I didn’t think it would be so late out!” she frets as Satoru helps you get down from his horse. Hands on your waist searing into your skin.

Clearly awoken due to the commotion, your dad stumbles his way down and towards your red brick villa.

“Ah, honey! I’m home…somehow…you know, I met the most interesting fella Something-toru. A wanderer, real interesting.” turning comically to Satoru, he exclaims in delight “Something-toru! How didya get ‘ere?”

Stifling his laughs, Satoru backs away, claiming he had to leave before your father roped him into more rounds of drinks. Which clearly didn’t work because your mother approaches him, “Stay, Satoru, stay! Can’t have you sleepin’ underneath some tree when you escorted our darling daughter all the way out here.”

Any refusals are immediately blocked out by your very inebriated father yelling out in agreement, claiming he wanted to listen to more of Satoru’s “funny lil’ stories”. Your parents head inside - well, more like your mother heads inside with your father in tow - having taken his speechlessness for agreement.

As you follow, you turn to Satoru, a strange part of you gleeful at the fact you won’t have to part with him for now. “We’ve got an extra room, and it’s got yer’ name on it. The stablehand will stall Gege, c’mon, it’ll be a lot better than the ground.” you grin.

“Hey! The ground can be very comfortable.” Satoru declares defensively, yet follows you inside anyway.

It’s only rushed goodbyes and promises to talk tomorrow morning as the housemaids fuss around Satoru. “Goodnight m’lady.” he’d winked as your head housekeeper clutched her pearls at his dirty boots on her recently polished hardwood floors.

That night, as you lay in your childhood bed, you realize that you still have Satoru’s coat on. Whether from his coat or something else entirely that you did not want to explore, you felt so warm inside.

---

Morning dawns with the symphony of the Western meadowlark that nudges you gently awake - usually. Today, it’s abruptly shattered as the door bursts open and someone barges into your room. Judging by the thud of hefty boots, you knew very well who it was.

“Rise n’ shine, m’lady!” Satoru’s voice - way too cheerful for six in the morning - chirps out.

It’s been a few days since Satoru has been staying with you. Now more a friend than a guest, you expect he’s come to wake you up for a morning ride with Gege, watching the sun rise as you exchange silly banter. But it’s so early…

“What do you want, Something-toru.” you grumble out from in-between your comfy covers. You secretly delight at his whines of “How dare you not remember my name, I even told you about the rattlesnake lasso!”

The warmth of your bed and the melody of Satoru’s voice has you sluggishly falling back asleep - that’s before he promptly sits on your bed. The force of it bouncing you both, making you sit up with a laugh.

Satoru was on your bed.

Satoru was on your bed. Shit, after what your father told him this morning, he wouldn’t blame you if you kicked him out with a punch to his pretty nose right this second. Mentally slapping himself a million times over, he hurriedly gets out the reason he was sent in to wake you up in the first place, “Ah- Um, the mayor is meeting with…someone important, wanted you to come down and meet him. Well, if tha’s all then I’ll be going, Gege won’t brush himself, sadly.”

And before you could get another word out, he’s swiftly out the door.

Satoru was on your bed. Your cheeks slightly heat up as you realize you didn’t mind?

His words ring in your ears as you get ready for the day - if it was someone important, then you might as well dress to impress. Impress someone else too. Shaking off these strange thoughts from your mind, you make your way downstairs, nose wrinkling at the smell of tobacco that greets you.

You’ve always hated the stench of the overpriced tobacco your father brings out to impress guests. “There she is! My daughter!” your father smiles, beckoning you over. “There’s someone who’s here to see you.”

Grimacing at the cloud of smoke, you take a seat on the plush sofa beside your father. He gestures at the man seated in front of him, “This here is Naoya.”

Despite his sharply handsome features, you shift uncomfortably at the way he watches you like a predator appraising his prey, eyes following your every movement. Apparently approving of what he saw, his lips curl into a smirk, “Your future husband.” he says saccharinely sweet.

What the fuck?

“Father?” you panickedly turn to him for answers, voice strained at your attempt to keep it even. But your father merely guffaws out a laugh, “Well well, nothing confirmed just yet. But you know with the way things are going with the re-election, might as well get to know a suitor and...” his voice trails off as he takes another puff of his cigar.

“My apologies sir, I refuse.” you drone out, looking straight at Naoya. You don’t miss the way his smirk grows leeringly as he mutters “You don’t have too much of a say in this matter, sweetcheeks.” The audacity.

Apparently your father doesn’t hear, a more grave expression taking over his face, “Now I’ve talked with Naoya, you’re of marriageable age. And as young as I feel, I won’t be around forever. You need someone to take care of you, dear. We’ve talked about this.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you abruptly stand up, disturbing the smoke around you. “I can take care of myself.” you spit out venomously, storming your way to the heavy front door in an attempt to run away from this situation.

In the dim sunlight filtering through the curtains, Naoya watches in amusement as you stomp out of the room. Hilarious, the feisty ones were always the best.

Over the mayor’s ramble of apologies, he grins “No don’t worry about that. She’ll be mine either way.”

The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as you slam it shut, echoing your frustration. The brisk air is a temporary relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.

“Talked about this” your ass. Every conversation - if you can even call them that - was a heated warning about being married off before you end up a spinster. You couldn’t care less about ending up alone if it didn’t mean living life with a man that talked to you like that.

Your thoughts block out the crunch of the gravel beneath your boots as your feet subconsciously lead you to the stables, where you used to play hide-and-seek as a kid. More recently, though, it has become an escape from conversations like these.

Approaching its familiar wooden doors, you catch a glimpse of Satoru, back turned and meticulously grooming Gege.

Sensing your presence, he turns with an easy smile that quickly fades as he notices the deep furrow of your brows. “Hey there, m’lady. Everything alrigh’?” cerulean eyes flit across your face worriedly.

“Oh yeah, everything’s great. Just got introduced to my absolute asshat of a future husband.” as if Satoru’s concerned expression makes something in you snap, the words tumble out along with your tears.

“I don’t even- The way he looked at me- Can you even believe?”

Satoru was about to rip apart whoever this load of horse manure was that made tears streak down your pretty face. Throwing his brush down - which Gege didn’t quite appreciate - he quickly envelopes you in his arms, letting you muffle your sobs.

“Hey hey. It’ll be alright, we’ll work something out. I promise, m’lady.” he consoles.

Eventually, as your cries die down, you look up to see the rising sun casting a soft glow on Satoru’s features, illuminating the sincerity in his gaze.

The determined glint in his eyes emboldens you, “Yer’ right, I will not be forced into a marriage, especially with someone like Naoya. I’m not anyone’s property.”

A subtle warmth is present in Satoru’s gaze as he utters, “Tha’s my girl.” before reeling back and backtracking immediately, “Ah! I mean- good for you m’lady. Naoya ain’t the one. Anyway, tell me about this ‘asshat’.”

You raise a brow teasingly at his rapid change of demeanor, before plopping down on the hay, launching into your first impression of Naoya and why the rumors downtown of him making babies cry were probably true.

The sun shines high in the sky as you lay there in peaceful silence, only to be broken by the doubt weighing heavy on your mind. “I’m scared.” you admit.

Satoru turns from his place beside you from the hay, “It’s alright, you got Gege and myself beside you. If Naoya ain’t the one then he ain’t the one.”

Your eyes meet his twinkling gaze, “Yeah, he’s not the one.”

The air grows charged with something unspoken as the silence stretches out. Satoru can feel the tips of his ears burning at your words - stop it Satoru, she didn’t mean anything by it. As always, he retreats into humor to break the crackling silence.

“I’d help you hide the body, y’know. Then you can have a shotgun wedding with whoever you want to share your days with.”

“Oh yeah? What if he turns out just like that asshat?” you challenge.

“Well, if it doesn’t work out, you can always run away with me. Fightin’ tumbleweeds together.” Satoru makes light of the situation, in an attempt to etch that beautiful smile on your face once more. It works, as you throw your head back and laugh.

“Yeah, I’d love that.” you get out in-between giggles.

If someone looked at you like Satoru did, you probably wouldn’t mind marrying them. A voice whispers in the back of your mind, sending your brows furrowing once again.

Meanwhile, Satoru finally had a name for your future not-husband - Naoya.

Urgently getting up and removing the hay stuck to your clothes once you hear your housemaids calling for you, you leave Satoru with a grateful smile that had him swooning out loud immediately after the stable door shut - to the very visible judgment of Gege.

It felt like a knife in his chest when the mayor tittered secretly to him about your future husband this morning, thoughts of you getting married plaguing his mind all morning. Well, if you were happy then it’s fine, isn’t it?

He was halfway through imagining you in a beautiful dress of white when you’d arrived with a cloudy expression covering your gorgeous features. If Satoru had thought hearing about your fiancé was like being stabbed, then the despair on your face made him feel like he was completely cleaved in half.

You deserve someone that deserves you. Probably not him. Certainly not Naoya.

Walking back to the house to fetch his riding gloves, he’s lost in the thoughts of standing off against a faceless man calling himself your husband when he bumps into somebody.

“My apolog- Asshat?” Satoru blurts out at the man testily raising a brow at him.

“Excuse you, barn boy?” he fumes, at the nickname that slips by. Ah, he’s done it now. Lips tweaking into a forced smile, Satoru grits out, “Ah, apologies, sir. Cowboy tendencies.”

The air is tense as Naoya mutters, “Keep those to yourself.” He moves to walk past Satoru, before stopping close enough to utter words meant for only him to hear, “And stay away from my future bride. I saw the hay on her skirt, yer’ insane to think you’d have a chance, barn boy. Go back to wanderin’ around.”

Satoru stands rooted to the spot as Naoya walks off, too many emotions he can’t name whirling inside him. That morning, he stalks off for his longest ride since arriving at Rustcliffe - not coming back with Gege until well after midnight.

---

To Satoru, long rides always mean interesting dreams. Right now he was in a tap-dancing competition against a one-eyed alligator who looked suspiciously like your father. It’s a shame - he was winning too - that the competition is suddenly crashed by an angel calling for him.

“Satoru…Satoru!”

An angel that sounded like…you?

“Satoru if you don’t wake up I’m feedin’ your boots to Gege.”

His eyes shoot open, yet his sleep-addled brain still struggles to process you standing over his bed, soft hands shaking his bare shoulders lightly. “Angel?” he rasps out.

You huff out a laugh, “No, I’m here to drag you to hell - or close enough at least.”

Face burning at already making a fool of himself before noon, he sits up in bed, blanket sliding off to reveal his toned upper-half.

Shit, it should be illegal to casually have a body like that.

Trying your best to avert your eyes from the dips and curves of his sculpted body, you continue, “My father’s holdin’ Rustcliffe’s annual Harvest Hoedown in a few weeks, the whole town’s gonna be there. You made it just in time for some dancing lessons.”

“What makes you think I need dancing lessons?” Satoru raises a brow playfully. You take a brief moment to admire the way his sleep-tousled hair curtains his alluring eyes, before replying in an ominous tone, “I need dancing lessons.”

Wow, you really did need dancing lessons, Satoru notes as he stifles a laugh when you step on the poor instructor’s foot for the fifth time this afternoon.

Locked in the stuffy studio, he recalls the way your father demanded that you not step one foot outside until you mastered the upbeat waltz for the hoedown - putting Satoru in charge of making sure you don’t slip away. “It’s stupid really, he’s never had a problem with me sitting out before. All because that asshat will be there…” you’d muttered hotly on the way.

Ah yes, that asshat. Sleep weighs heavily on Satoru’s eyes from riding all night long, yet his words still ring painfully in his ears. Who did he even think he was to have a chance with you?

Well, it’s alright, Satoru will be out of this town in a few months, and you’ll marry some man of your choice that could give you everything you could ever want.

The only thing that snaps Satoru out of his overthinking tirade is the abrupt pause of the music and the heavy sigh the dance instructor lets out - clearly having taken a break for his own sake rather than yours. You shuffle sheepishly across the polished floor to where Satoru stands, “Was it worse than you thought?” you grimace.

“Well, you always do find a way to surprise me, m’lady” he teases, chuckling at your dramatic groan. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the instructor rushing outside for a smoke. Hopefully not because of your dancing…

You scoff in defense as Satoru’s cackles grow louder - having thought the same thing. “Well, I’m sure the great Something-toru is much better on his feet.”

Instead of retorting, he steps one heavy boot onto the waxy dance floor, holding out a hand expectantly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

“But, there’s no music?” you raise a brow, yet you place your hand in his much larger ones. Soft, his hands were surprisingly soft. And so warm.

“Did I mention I was a great singer too?” he grins, a small dimple at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer.

Shit, it was way too hot to be cooped up in a dance studio. Or maybe it was just Satoru’s hand around your waist, making your skin burn through your heavy skirts. They flow around you as he glides you gently across the floor.

You train your eyes steadily on your feet - partly out of necessity, and partly out of fear of meeting Satoru’s intense gaze.

The only sounds filling the small studio were the squeaks of your boots and Satoru’s soft humming of a nonexistent tune. It was beautiful, his voice. It reminded you of calm summer days.

“Ah- sorry!” you panic as you step on his toe, only for him to pause his melody and huff out a laugh.

“Step on them as much as you want, m’boots are thick.”

You’re sure he meant this only to bate your embarrassment, but something about his words and the warm endearment in his gaze have your cheeks heating up. You focus on your steps in silence as he guides you patiently, tenderly.

Pride grows in your chest as you start stepping on his boots every six steps instead of two. Satoru seems to have noticed too, “Hey! You’ve improved, m’lady.” he whispers, as if afraid to break the stillness in that humid room as you two continue your silent dance.

Loud clapping from the doorway makes you two jump apart, shattering the serene bubble you’ve found refuge in. “Brilliant! I thought I’d come across my first hopeless case, yet you’ve worked absolute wonders Mr. Satoru!”

Your escape is quick, you urgently drag Satoru out the door before he can be forcibly recruited as a dance teacher.

You heave out a sigh of relief at your freedom from the treacherous clutches of the dance studio. Merciless sunlight stinging your face, you begin to make your way through the dusty hustle and bustle of Rustcliffe in the afternoon.

Now, all you had to do was avoid bumping into your father for the rest of the day and you should be fine!

Speed-walking by Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon, you’re confused when you’re faced with a few more drunken stares than usual. Surely your new skirt can’t be that flattering?

With a jolt, you realize you’re still grasping Satoru’s warm hand in his. Dropping it as if it burned, your cheeks heat up at the mirth on his features. “Not that I’m complainin,” he grins, “but warn a guy next time you manhandle him. S’not good for the heart, m’lady.”

Rolling your eyes at his joke, you begin pointing out the things to see as you walk the familiar old roads of Rustcliffe, detailing the town gossip.

It really was not good for his heart, Satoru was sure he’ll drop dead very soon one of these days because of you.

He couldn’t rip his eyes off of you as you animatedly talked about granny Wei wrestling Mrs. Davidson for her secret brownie recipe.

Shit, he was really getting in too deep.

Night falls fast, a deep shade of blue.

Saying your goodbyes to Nanami at Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon - at a time you knew your father wouldn’t be around - your heart swells as Satoru excitedly rambles about “Good ol’ Nanamin! What a chip off the old block, we became fast friends y’know?”

You didn’t expect your mission to avoid your father to turn into an impromptu Rustcliffe tour. But watching Satoru’s face light up as you told him silly little stories of your childhood, you wouldn’t have changed it one bit.

Sent off with a cheery “Come back soon deary!”, you’re exhausted by the time you say all your goodbyes to the people of the town.

“You’re loved, y’know?” Satoru speaks up out of nowhere as you steady yourself behind him on the saddle.

“Hm?” you ask, fatigued from spending the day walking around town. A large hand caresses your cheek to rest your head against his back, tightening your arms around his waist.

Lightly snapping the reins, he repeats, “You’re loved.”

You drift on his words gently to sleep, the clip-clop! of the horse matching the deafening beat of your heart against your ribcage. If only you could be like this forever.

SLAM!

You wake up with a start, only to find yourself…hovering? Surely there must be a valid explanation - you really didn’t feel like doing an exorcism right now.

It takes a while of your nonsense to realize you’re being carried by strong arms supporting your back and legs.

“S-Satoru?” you ask blearily.

“Shhh, forgive me, m’lady. Didn’t think that damn door would be so loud.” he responds, bed creaking under his weight as he softly sets you down.

Smiling down at your incoherent mumbles, he whispers softly “It’s alrigh’, you can rest now. Goodnight m’lady.”

Struggling to rip his gaze from your gracefully sleep-addled one, it’s only the thought of someone in the house catching him in this position that makes him stand up.

A hand - uncharacteristically swift - grasps his wrist, stopping his tip-toeing to the door. “Satoru…” your groggy call of his name sends shivers down his spine. Hesitatingly following the gentle pull of your hand, he kneels beside your bed.

“Yes, m’lady?” he breathes.

You surge forward, sleep hazing the practical side of your mind. Acting on pure instinct, your soft lips meet his.

Satoru freezes in surprise as a beat passes. One. Two.

He stays in the same position when you flop back onto your pillow, soft snores filling the otherwise pin-drop silence. His lips burn as he brings up a hand to touch them in disbelief, stifling an euphoric laugh.

You startle awake in the middle of the night, after some questionable dream about Satoru carrying you to the bed and you kissing him.

Imagine. Ha!

Settling back into where you were carefully tucked into bed, you snuggle the warm coat at your side.

Wait. Shit.

---

If either of you remembered what happened that night, neither of you mentioned it.

Oftentimes, you questioned whether it was a dream. The only thing keeping you from fully believing so being the intensity in Satoru’s stare whenever his eyes briefly flickered to your lips and the hasty retreats whenever it seemed like you would bring up the topic.

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

In fear of messing up the comfortable camaraderie you two had, you continued this magnetic dance of normalcy. But honestly could you really consider it “normal” if each gaze was charged with something neither of you could describe?

But why wasn’t he saying anything? And why did he not want you to?

You could only imagine the worst.

Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. Well, probably a bit below heaven, because - ideally - there you’d be his wife and Gege would actually like him.

It’s alright, even if just for a sleep-hazed second, he was yours. And he didn’t want to hear you apologize for it.

Still riding the euphoria of that brief kiss, he goes about life as usual, sure that you would be one of his favorite stories from his travels.

---

“WELCOME ALL TO RUSTCLIFFE ANNUAL HARVEST HOEDOWN! WE GOT HARVEST, WE GOT HORSES, WE GOT SOME HOE- Oh- what? yes, dear that was on my script…” your father’s voice bellows across town from the loudspeaker.

You breathe in the warm, candy-scented air, fairy lights illuminating the colorful stalls selling everything from candied apples to binoculars (“Spy On Your Neighbors Without Worry!”).

Place ringing with the bustle and chatter of the town, you think it feels like something out of a picture book.

A warm smile finds its way onto your face, you’ve loved the Harvest Hoedown since you were a kid. Here, you can forget the longing for something more, the rows at home about your looming engagement, and most of all - you can almost forget Satoru.

Ever since that kiss, you’ve found it hard to face him. Sure, the banter and half-joking schemes to murder Naoya are the same. But your heart clenches every time he looks at you with a tender melancholy, losing the words to apologize for taking advantage of his kindness.

“Come come! It’s startin’!” you hear gleefully from your left. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re pulled into a circle of bodies dancing to an upbeat tune.

Laughter bubbling out of you as you lose yourself in the song, you turn to your right and see…your dance instructor, who is very visibly (and audibly) praying for his feet. Dramatic. You’ve learned a lot recently with Satoru’s help.

Oh, there he is again. For someone that leaves place so swiftly, he sure is set on living permanently in your mind.

Hidden amongst the audience, Satoru cackles at the distress on Mr. Dance Instructor’s face. Little did he know, with a bit of Satoru’s magic you’ve improved - stepping on his toes only once every fifteen steps!

He was so proud of his girl.

Ah, except you’re not. You’re so much more. And he’s reminded of that every time you averted your eyes from his during dance lessons, the proximity of your bodies doing nothing for how out of reach you felt to him.

He rips his gaze from you, walking away from the growing crowd. Where was that damn drinks table again?

It’s past twelve as the townsfolk start pairing up for the hoedown couples dancing. You’ve usually sat this one out, not one for the complicated steps nor the intimacy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy your parents waltzing in their own world. How nice it must be. Your supposed asshat of a dance partner was over by the drinks talking with some men, barely looking your way.

Guess the dance lessons were for nothing. Frustrated and slightly tipsy, you move to make your way off the dance floor.

Suddenly, a large hand blocks your view of the exit. Who the-

Satoru.

Ears tinged a pretty red, and eyes slightly dazed, he hiccups over the rich music “Would you- dance with me, m’lady?”

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way his face flushed your favorite delicate pink - but you slide your hand into his warm one, “I’d be honored to, Satoru.”

A strong arm pulling you flush against his body, faces only inches apart. His hot breath fans you as Satoru murmurs, “Looked s’beautiful tonight. Best dancer in town I’d say.”

“Only cuz’ of you, Satoru.” you chuckle at his genuine tone as he steers you across the dance floor. Feet in perfect sync, the waltz fades into the background as you look into his tired eyes.

“Nah, tha’s all you, m’lady. I’m nothing much.” he grins morosely.

Your brows furrow at his words, clearly something was wrong. And this wasn’t the place to talk about it. “Come with me.” you utter, pulling him along with you to a place you knew he’d love.

Little ol’ Rustcliffe wasn’t called that for nothing.

The air is tense, the chatter of crickets fill the silence between you two as you guide him to your haven, hand still tightly in his. It’s a steep walk uphill from the outskirts of town, a place you’d stumbled upon during one dashing attempt to escape from this town as a tween.

“Finally here.” you exhale as you reach your destination, fireflies lighting the way.

“Hah- If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were tryin’ to murder-” Satoru’s voice dies in his throat as he drinks in the view before him.

The twinkling lights of the entire town of Rustcliffe reflect in his eyes like constellations. Townsfolk barely discernible from this distance, yet the soft jovial music carried over. It was beautiful.

Satoru looks at you in awe as you lay down on the ground and point upwards, “Tha’s not all, cowboy.”

Quickly getting on the ground beside you - albeit at a safe distance - his mouth gapes wider at the perfect carpet of stars above him. A celestial version of what he saw below. He turns his head to see you bathed in the moonlight. This place was beautiful.

“Satoru, are we okay?‘ you voice out in concern. He’s taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. You cut off his scramble to make a joke, “I’m serious. Please talk to me.”

He can never win against you.

Heaving out a sigh, “Maybe. Who knows. But whatever it is, please don’t apologize for that kiss, let me have it.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, “Let you have it? Satoru, why wouldn’t you have it?”

“M’lady, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re like fireworks. Captivating and fierce. That kiss was a mistake, and soon enough you’ll find a rich, handsome-”

“I only want you.”

“I’m leaving soon.” he retorts.

“I only want you.” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I’m leaving m’lady.” he argues.

“No- Satoru-”

“And I’m childish. I’m insecure. I’ll never be able to provide for you the way you deserve.” he plows on, emotion cracking his voice.

“Satoru, I love you.” you breathe out.

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat, the silence was deafening. “What was that?” he turns, voice quiet with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, cowboy, but you’re like blue summer skies. And I just so happen to love blue summer skies.” you huff out, finally understanding the reason for his behavior these past few weeks.

“I don’t expect a huge mansion, or some enormous ranch, or even a cowboy that knows the difference between a lasso and a rattlesnake. I just don’t want anyone else, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And…you’re sure? Really sure?”

“Yes.”

Silence punctures your conversation once more, broken only by a loud cackle. You turn in disbelief at his change in demeanor, “All cheered up now, Satoru?”

“Why would you have feelings for me? Was it the tumbleweed story that did it for you?” he gets out through laughs. It was contagious, and soon enough you yourself joined him, clutching your stomach.

In the thoughtful silence that follows, you find yourself inching closer to him until your faces are mere centimeters apart. “Blue summer skies and fireworks don’t go too well together.” he breathes.

“We’ll make something work out, remember?” you hum.

Your first kiss with Satoru was a sleep-addled mistake.

The second was when his lips capture yours as if they were the source of life itself.

Rolling on top of you, he’s careful to not rest his full weight as his lips don’t leave you, tongue caressing yours. Satoru tastes sweet - like hard candy and your father’s bottle of Baileys. Pulling away a hair's breadth, he whispers against your lips, “Let me be yours?”

“You probably say this to all the girls, hm?” you tease him, as revenge for making you wait so long. He softly bites your lips in retaliation, relishing in your drawn-out whine. “Yes, fine. If only you’ll let me be yours.”

Clearly approving of your answer, he continues his dance with your lips. Barely parting to breathe, as if it hurt to leave you.

And it did. A low groan sounds from the back of his throat as Satoru kisses you with the desperation from these past few weeks. His hands stayed firmly cupping your face, as if scared to move elsewhere. Yours, however, was wandering the expanse of his back, and it was driving him insane.

“M’lady…” he breathes out at the feeling of your legs wrapping around his hips, a warning.

You knew where this was going and you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything so bad. “Satoru, I need you.” you mutter, words punctuated by pecks to his swollen lips.

Maybe that’s the trigger that sets him off. It’s not long before Satoru is kissing you again. Pinning down your arms with one hand, he rolls his hips into yours. You gasp as you feel the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers.

He was so big.

Your pussy drips with anticipation and fear of what was about to come.

Satoru thinks he might be getting whiplash, how was it that an hour ago he was moping in his loneliness and now he’s got you underneath him? Silently thanking whoever was up there, he wanders a hand down your body. Fingers trailing teasingly above where you wanted him the most.

“Tell me what you want, m’lady.” he rasps. Now Satoru is sure he’s getting whiplash when you grind your hips up into his hand, whining “Need you- on me.”

Skirts hastily pushed up, Satoru shuffles so his face is right hovering right above your pulsing core. In the cool moonlight, he can see the way you get wetter at each hot breath on your cunt. “Please Satoru.”

You were not good for his heart. Surging forward so he’s nose-deep in your pussy, Satoru’s tongue flattens against your swollen folds. His eyes roll to the back of his at your taste. You tasted better than the candy at the hoedown.

Your desperate whines for more send blood rushing to his cock, twitching achingly against his trousers. Leisurely dipping between your folds, he watches with blown-out eyes as you grind your hips deeper into his face, keeping a firm grip on his soft locks. Using him.

Shit, if this was your reaction to him teasing you…

Your whimpers of pleasure and lewd squelches of your cunt fill the night air as he plunges his tongue inside your clenching hole, fucking you at a merciless rhythm. His brows furrow as his tongue dips in and out relentlessly. He sinfully loves the burn of his scalp as you pull his hair to angle him just right.

Thumb harshly circling your clit, Satoru thinks he loses a bit of his sanity at every moan of his name that leaves your pretty mouth. “You taste s’good. So perfect for me, m’lady.” his voice sends vibrations to your pussy that have you feeling your heartbeat banging in two places.

“Hngh- Satoru, don’ stop!” you mewl as his nose catches on your clit, clamping down on his tongue. He continues his movements, breathing you in so sinfully. Air was overrated - Satoru Gojo, famously daring traveler and devilishly handsome, dies here between your legs. He wouldn’t even mind.

“Cum in my mouth, m’lady. Please.” he begs, voice muffled by your dripping cunt. He locks eyes with your fucked out ones as he pulls you by the thighs impossibly closer to him. He never wanted to part.

The stimulation of his voice in addition to his fingers and tongue becomes too much. “Satoru! Hah- M’ gonna cum-”

Tears spring to your eyes as you cum all around Satoru’s tongue. He doesn’t let up his harsh abuse of your pulsing pussy, groaning as he laps up your juices - your slick pooling at the corner of his mouth.

He was so greedy for you. Shit, this is so much better than he’s imagined every night he’s fucked his fist in that lonely room.

As both of you attempt to catch your breaths, the chattering song of crickets and distant music from the Harvest Hoedown fill the air once more. Satoru looks at you with a devious glint in his eyes that has your cunt twitching once more.

You’d felt his rock-hard length. And you wanted it now.

“Satoru. let me feel you in my mouth, please.” you murmur. Kneeling before him, you look up at him with eager eyes. At his slow nod, you give an experimental squeeze to the large imprint of his cock, thighs rubbing together at Satoru’s drawn-out hiss.

“Oh, m’lady. You drive me insane.” he groans.

Cursing the heavy trousers that cowboys wear, you fumble it down his legs. Muscles, creamy thighs come into your view, making your mouth water.

In the dim lighting, you see the precum drip down Satoru’s flushed cock. The prominent vein down his side glistens prominently. Shit, he’d never fit in your mouth let alone your cunt. But you wanted it so bad.

Satoru’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base.

It was filthy, it was debauched. You absolutely loved it.

Satoru lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, m’lady. You’re just hah- too good.”

Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as you speak about something that has been on your mind for a while now, “Satoru, don’t you think we’re past formalities now?”

“Well, I could call you my goddess?” he smiles. “Or my angel? Or-” Satoru chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth - partly because you needed him to shut up, and partly because you cunt ached with need.

“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper - nose meeting the snowy white hair on his pelvis.

Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your pussy drips once more at how desperate Satoru was.

His mouth drops open in a silent gasp as you move to take his tight balls into your mouth. You admire the dazed look in his darkened eyes. “Oh god- I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum in your mouth, m’lady.” he murmurs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continue your ruthless pace.

As soon as your lips are around his cock once more, Satoru comes fast and hard with a gravelly moan. Hot spurts of his seed dribble down the corner of your mouth as you take it all in.

Ah, this wasn’t what you had planned when you brought him here - but you sure weren’t complaining.

Satoru just about passes out when you stick out your tongue to show you’ve swallowed every drop of cum he gave, cock twitching once more. He needed you in a way that would make a hooker blush.

Finding his voice, “As much as I’d love to ravish you right here, m’lady, I think you deserve somethin’ a bit more comfortable.” He swats at a mosquito attacking him as you grin devilishly.

---

Gege has never flown across the dry ground of Rustcliffe faster.

Wind in your hair and Satoru’s arms warmly around your middle, you feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your back - matching your own. You admire his moonlit profile, the light casting an otherworldly glow over his cloud-like hair. You could probably go anywhere if it was by his side.

You’ve never been happier to see that familiar ol’ ranch.

Navigating your sprawling villa, you find, is close to impossible with a relentless Satoru pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

“Satoru…we gotta make it to the bed.” you giggle, drunk off of him rather than the liquor from before. He sighs impatiently, before promptly lifting you off of your feet. His hat and hip holster falling to god-know-where as he runs up the stairs to your bedroom with you in his arms.

The thud of heavy boot echoes throughout the empty house - your parents still at the Harvest Hoedown. It reminds you of the night you first kissed him. As he slams your door shut and pushes you against it, however, you never in your wildest dreams would have thought that it’ll lead to this.

Tongue tangling with Satoru’s, feet still not reaching the ground. You don’t think you’ll make it out of this alive. Nor will Satoru.

Satoru is definitely not making it out alive.

He’s barely stepped a foot into your bedroom before he’s got his hands all over you - groping and teasing every inch of your body he can find. Your legs wrapped around him, he holds you in the air, hands roughly squeezing your ass.

His lips don’t leave yours, tasting himself on your tongue - even as he bunches your skirts around your hips. Exhaling in relief as his hands meet your bare lips, he holds a finger to your pulsing core.

You whimper at the feeling, still sensitive from before. He drinks in your mewls of pain and pleasure, lips curling into a smug smile. “Still sensitive, m’lady? You poor thing. How will you take my cock if yer’ like this?”

Your groan of impatience turns into a panicked whine as Satoru moves towards the bed, “Maybe we should tuck you in bed for now? Continue this tomorrow?”

Reading the challenge in his eyes, you immediately free yourself from his hold. His confused gaze soon turns into a surprised one as you push him roughly onto the bed, straddling him after.

“You always do surprise me.” he laughs out between the magnetic kisses you leave on his lips. Buttons fling across the room as you rip his shirt in impatience - fingers too dripping in lust to work through them. You’re sure if the same could be done to your heavy prairie skirt, then it would’ve suffered a similar fate.

You run your hands along his sculpted body greedily, as you’d wanted to since the first time you saw him shirtless. He hisses at the friction and the impatience at wanting to do the same to you, fingers fumbling with your complicated clasps.

After much frustration and curses on whoever invented corsets, you’re finally exposed in front of Satoru.

Shit, he really should call you his goddess. Because in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he thinks he’s in heaven as you sit atop him, bare and needy for him. Fuck Naoya. Fuck any faceless suitable husband. Eyes half-lidded and lips kiss-bitten, you’re like this because of him.

Grinding his now-bare hips against yours, a low groan rips from his throat at the feeling of your swollen folds spreading against his aching cock. Your dripping slick mixes with his as he continues rutting into you.

“Ah! Enough teasin’, Satoru- Want you inside me.” you whimper sinfully.

Your words make Satoru snap. Wordlessly, he sheaths himself inside you with a sigh of relief. Moans leave his throat unrestrained as he bullies his cock deeper and deeper inside your hot cunt. “Fuck. S’tight, your pretty pussy is suckin’ me in so good m’lady.” he hisses out, brows furrowed in pleasure.

Satoru could feel himself losing more and more of his sanity every time your plushy walls clenched down on him as he pulled out to fuck up into with harsh thrusts. It was so animalistic, the way your perfect cunt couldn’t bear to part with him.

Your slick drips down his length and onto his heavy balls each time he rams into you at a merciless cadence. Soft yelps of his name leave your lips every time his tip kisses your cervix.

Ah, this time he was actually going to pass out. Your pretty whines, your dripping cunt, the way your tits jiggled so enticingly at each thrust - it was all too much.

Angling you slightly with his bruising grip on your hips, Satoru smiles with satisfaction at that one spot that makes you convulse on his cock. Abs burning at the pace, he hits it over and over. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder, moans of his name leaving you against your will.

You were sure to be absolutely covered in marks tomorrow.

But that was a problem for later you. Right now, all you could focus on was grinding your hips down to meet Satoru’s thrusts, eager for him to hit that spot even harder. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the painfully good stretch of your snug cunt. So full.

“K-keep going, Satoru. Don’ stop, please.” Your rickety bed creaks in protest at each relentless thrust, overpowered only by the stinging smacks of his balls against your ass.

It was so filthy. So debauched. And you absolutely loved it.

As Satoru’s hands sneak down to draw rough circles on your clit, you feel yourself getting closer and closer towards cumming. Leaning down to capture his lips with yours once more, you whisper against his mouth, “Satoru, I’m- Hngh-”

He connects his sweaty forehead with yours, “Mm. me too. Fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up. You want that, m’lady?”

Just the thought of being so full of Satoru sends you over the edge. You cum with a lewd moan of his name, cunt clenching so impossibly tight around his cock.

“Ah! Shit.” Satoru grits out at the way your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly. Your whimpers as you gush around him sounds like music to his ears.

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums. A part of his soul parting with him that night. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, strained whispers of your name leaving his mouth as if a prayer. As if you were his goddess.

A feral part of him keeps bucking his hips into you, letting you ride out your highs together. Fucking his cum deeper and deeper - claiming you as his.

You do the same in your own way - biting down on Satoru’s exposed neck. Hard. His strong arms wrap around you to keep you from moving away, letting you use him as you please.

Cum drips down your legs, staining your blanket.

As your highs finally bate, you blink out the haze from your eyes. Looking up at Satoru from where you were snuggled into the crook of his neck, admiring the innocent blush adorning his face and his glossy, bruised lips. Both of you so overstimulated and euphoric.

“Got any travel stories like this?” you chuckle out, half-delirious and exhausted from what just transpired in this room.

“Not at all.” Satoru breathes out, pulling you closer to him, closing his hazy eyes to the sex-filled air.

That night, squeezed into your warm single bed, Satoru tells you stories of before his travels. You’re unsure if your parents are home yet, and right now with Satoru in your arms - you don’t care.

You listen as he rambles about growing up in the quaint town of Summer Pass. How he was raised with beautiful parents, a wonderful life. Yet, since the passing of his best friend, he’d taken up what the two had been dreaming of since they were children - wandering the world.

“I’m afraid, if I stay too long then it always ends up hurtin’.” he whispers into the still night. Caressing his hair, you pull him into your warm embrace. Your heart weighs heavy as the back of your mind pangs with the realization that Satoru will still leave despite this.

Both of you fall asleep reminiscing talks of your childhoods. In your exhausted state, maybe you misheard - but you could’ve sworn by the “I love you, m’lady.” Satoru whispered against your lips right before you closed your eyes.

Limbs intertwined till you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts, you have the most peaceful sleep in a long time.

You’re unsure when Satoru snuck out of your room. The only evidence of last night being the washcloth on your bedside table that he’d tenderly cleaned you up with, and a singular button from his shirt at the foot of your bed.

Cheeks heating once you catch sight of it, you make your way down to breakfast in your most well-covered dress.

What you certainly didn’t expect was to be interrogated by your mother. “So…” she begins. ”When did you come home, darling? We didn’t see you at the hoedown after midnight.”

Ah, suddenly these scrambled eggs just did not want to go down your throat. “Jus’...went to see somethin’ interesting.” you respond, eyes meeting with Satoru’s amused ones across the table as he subtly plays footsies with you underneath.

---

Sneaking around with a secret cowboy boyfriend doesn’t just happen in books, you realize. It’s a lot easier since Naoya is around a lot more often than usual. The only thing he might be good for may be keeping your parents entertained…

Since then, Satoru, you conclude, really does not like L-words: namely, Love and Leaving.

Despite his breathless confession that night, Satoru hasn’t said anything more about his feelings towards you - nor when he’ll be leaving.

It’s okay, you have time. You console yourself, as you lay in bed with him after he’d snuck into your room as per usual, pulling his warm presence closer to yours. But Satoru’s inevitable departure looms closer and closer like a dark cloud above your head.

It’s only two months after that night, when you’ve retreated from another engagement conversation you shut down, that Satoru brings it up. Hands intertwined and watching the sunset on top of your father’s barn, he utters in an uncharacteristically grave tone “I planned to leave next week, m’lady.”

Your heart pricks at his words. You knew this was coming.

Clenching your fists in self-assurance, your words tumble out.

“Let me come with you.”

“Let me stay with you.”

The nostalgic lullaby of the world around you is deafening as you and Satoru reel back in synchronized surprise.

“You- stay?”

“Wait- huh?”

Brow raised, you gesture at him to continue. “I just- I thought maybe I could stay here. Build a life with you, if you’d like, m’lady.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Satoru - who smiles brightest when talking of his tales of travel - was offering to settle down?

“W-what? Satoru, why would you? You love traveling.” you sputter out in disbelief. His smile grows, as does the warmth in his eyes. “I’ve found something I love a lot more.” he murmurs, with a playful bite to the crook of your neck.

You crack a smile at his sincerity, though you shake your head in disagreement. “You should be out there explorin’ the world, Satoru. And…I want to be right by your side.”

“I thought you loved this place?”

“I do.” you sigh. “But I feel so trapped.”

Resting your head on Satoru’s shoulders, you admit how dear Rustcliffe is to you - although oftentimes you try to deny it - and how you want to leave just as much.

The stars wink at you two mischievously by the time you’re done, a twinkle that matches the look in Satoru’s eyes as he announces, “So~ We run away together in a blaze of glory. End scene, credits roll, Gege win’s best actor.”

“Exactly. Although I prefer the term unannounced relocation.” you hum, relishing in his bark of laughter. “Now, c’mon, cowboy. We gotta get up early for that damn election rally tomorrow.”

Heading back home as inconspicuous as possible is always tedious. In addition to praying away your swollen lips, you head in innocently at different times.

Hurriedly greeting your housekeeper, you attempt to make a swift escape to your room. Only to be blocked by…Naoya?

“We meet again, sweetcheeks.” he smiles, stepping closer towards you. Determined to stand your ground, you stare menacingly up at him. “Hello, my apologies for being so unavailable to meet these days. Business, y’know.” your voice steady.

“Ah, yes. I know.” he hums dangerously. Looming closer to your face, you smell the tobacco on his breath as he mutters, “It’s no matter, your father and I have gone through with our conversations. You and I will announce our engagement tomorrow at your father’s rally. That is final.”

“I’ve talked with you about this, I’ve screamed at you about this. I will not marry you no matter what my father nor anyone else says.” you grit out through clenched teeth.

“Why? Got anyone in mind? Think it’ll be anyone else your father approves of?” he raises a brow, delicately raising the neckline of where your dress had dripped down - where Satoru had nipped before.

He knows.

“Not at all.” you smile sweetly. Not waiting for a response, you run upstairs. Seems like running away in a blaze of glory might have to hurry up.

Twisting and turning the entire night, you don’t get a wink of sleep, mind a whirlwind of how you’d get Satoru and run away before the announcement.

It was terrifying.

---

Parading around town in an itchy engagement dress under the boiling sun on your father’s collection of purebred Italian horses (+ Gege) wasn’t exactly how you wanted to spend an ideal morning. But it wasn’t the worst.

You snuck glances at Satoru riding in front of you, looking devastatingly handsome as ever.

Naoya had been terrifyingly quiet all morning. You could feel his penetrating stare on you, scrutinizing every movement and every conversation. He rides beside you - your soon-to-be husband.

As the procession ends at your father’s podium, where he proudly takes a stand. As he plows on with an inspirational speech that has the audience in cheers, your mind runs a mile a minute as you slip away from the stage. Even in your gauzy white dress, it’s easy to get lost in the animated crowds of Rustcliffe - which you and Satoru use to your advantage.

This was happening. You were going to finally leave.

Heart clenching at the sight of your jovial parents onstage, you take a long look before turning away. It’s okay, it’s alright. This is something you’ve been wanting for years.

Brain whirring at the letters you’d send them on your travels, you miss the harsh gaze following you.

“Satoru!” you gasp at the blur of white and black that embraces you as soon as you step foot into Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon. The bar, empty for the first time in years since your father’s last rally, was your hastily chosen place of refuge.

Nanami, who wasn’t initially too keen on being involved, had sympathized once he saw the look on your face. “Alright, but if anyone asks - you two were never here. Not too good for business, y’know.” he’d stated, permitting you two to do whatever you please.

Although, it probably was worth noting that he’d almost taken it back once Satoru tackled him into a hug with a joyful squeal of “Nanamiiiin~!”

“C’mon now. I’ve got our bags saddled on Gege. We’ll leave immediately.” Satoru voices, snapping you out of your reminiscing. Rushing to give Nanami a farewell hug, your heart lurches as he whispers “Goodbye. Promise you’ll write.”

This was really happening.

Nodding in promise, you finally turn to the open door and step into the dusty sunlight. Satoru leads you to where Gege is impatiently waiting for your quick getaway. You could almost laugh at the sheer exhilaration coursing through your veins.

You were going to get out.

You grip onto Satoru’s shoulder for support as he circles his arms around you to lift you onto the seat, slightly shaking at the intoxicating adrenaline.

You were finally going to be free.

“Leavin’ so soon, sweetcheeks?” a chilling voice slices through the air. One that you know way too well. Your heart stops, as does Satoru’s hands in midair - before he sets you down slowly.

Body moving against your will, you turn to the deceivingly sweet voice behind you. Naoya.

A cold sweat breaks out across Satoru’s forehead.

He stares down Naoya’s hand hovering over the holster at his hip. “I knew there was something off about you, barn boy. You think I’d be outmatched by someone like you?” he hisses, resentment poisoning every word.

Satoru does what he does arguably the best, “Oh c’mon asshat, don’t be so melodramatic. We’re just going on a little adventure.” he smirks.

“Don’t I know of these adventures.” Naoya spits out.

Agonizingly slow, Naoya draws his gun. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the three of you stand frozen, searing sun casting eerie shadows across the desolate road.

BANG!

Naoya’s first shot tears through the deafening silence. Narrowly missing the bullet, Gege whinnies in fear before running off to safety. Satoru skillfully maneuvers you two into the shadowy alleyway beside Ol’ Rustcliffe Saloon.

In the blink of an eye, he presses you close to the dust-bitten wall as he pulls out his gun. “Stay here.” he gasps out.

With lightning speed, Satoru retaliates - firing back-to-back shots at Naoya with a speed and precision that has him scrambling for cover behind a barrel.

The gunfire echoes throughout the quiet town, these familiar streets becoming a battleground. Despite both parties shooting from their impromptu covers, neither are invincible.

A stray bullet harshly grazes his arm, blood painting the ground a deep crimson. Fuck, this really burned like a motherfucker. But he was still alive - he still had to protect you.

The standoff intensifies, stray bullets flying off in every direction. They splinter holes through the rustic shop banners. You could only be thankful that the town was at the rally, confident you’d never forgive yourself if anyone died on this road today.

Satoru fires off shots with uncanny accuracy, years of defending himself on the road coming in handy. Yet, he was losing blood. So much blood. He realizes with a jolt that his vision was slowly blurring.

Breaths labored and slumping forward against the wall, he aims one last shot at Naoya. Fuck. Shit. Dear lord, if you’re up there, please don’t let my love die here.

A finger pulls the trigger. The bullet flies through the air as if in slow-motion.

It hits metal.

Naoya’s gun flies through the air, clattering onto the sun-scorched ground as he is finally disarmed. The beginnings of a grin curl Satoru’s lips before he heaves out a heavy sigh. Eyes closing and body collapsing forward, the last thing ringing in his ears being your harrowed scream.

“No no no no. Satoru please.” sobs wreck your throat as your hands frantically check for Satoru’s pulse. In your panicked state of mind, you barely register the crunch of gravel nearing towards you two.

“Shit. The fuck is it that you even want?” that dreaded voice sounds ominously in your ears. “To travel? I can fuckin’ take you places.”

Sagging on the saloon wall for support, Naoya clutches his bleeding side as he observes the two of you. In an instant, you’re in front of Satoru’s body protectively, hand steady on his discarded gun pointed right at Naoya’s head.

“Leave, before I shoot your brains out..” you threaten, voice deceptively steady.

“I thought I could be the one to break you - the mayor’s wildchild daughter. But why the fuck do you put yourself through this?” he continues, voice strained with anger.

“Because he is the one I want. I refuse your proposal, and I am not sorry for it. Now leave.”

You were standing up now, the cool metal of the barrel pressed firmly to his forehead. Finger hovering above the trigger.

“I believe the lady said to leave.” Nanami’s voice startles you both. His normally stoic face was etched with anger.

Despite his injuries, Naoya manages to glare at Nanami. But, realizing the odds are against him, he backs away, but not before venomously promising “This ain’t over, sweetcheeks.”

He leaves a bloody trail as he limps out of sight.

“Told you this wasn’t good for business.” Nanami sighs at the chaos. With Nanami’s help, you carry Satoru inside - body moving on instinct as your mind races to process everything that happened.

The empty bar now serves as an improvised hospital. Laying Satoru down on a table that acts as a makeshift bed, propping his feet up in a desperate attempt to recirculate his blood. You desperately tear the intricate of your engagement dress into bandages, hurriedly wrapping it around his injured arm.

The atmosphere is taut, air once thick with the stench of alcohol now reeking of blood and the dusty antiseptic Nanami had brought to you from the very back of his shelves. The methodic ticking of the bar clock sounds like gunshots to your ears.

His reassuring presence is probably what keeps you sane as you stare unmovingly at your hands, stained a dark red from the blood seeping through Satoru’s clothes.

You must have been sitting there for hours. Maybe even days. Or it might have even been just a few minutes.

All you know is a flash of blue, and you’re surging forward, heart racing. “Satoru?! Satoru! Please say something.” you cry out, tears streaming down your face once more. Nanami quietly makes his exit to the back, leaving the two lovers to their privacy.

“Satoru.” you breathe out, relief flooding your body and a smile forcing its way onto your face as Satoru’s half-lidded eyes meet your worried ones.

“M’lady.” he whispers weakly. His uninjured arm shakily cups your cheek, and you lean into his warm touch. “I would never have forgiven myself if I left you alone, m’lady.” he rasps, eyes boring into yours. “Couldn’t have fought off the tumbleweeds yourself.”

You let out a watery laugh. There he is, the man you love.

“I love you, Satoru.” you speak in a hushed tone, as if anything louder will throw you back into your nightmare. His smile grows, blue summer eyes flooding with silent tears.

“I love you, too. So, so much. Wherever you go s’ where I belong, my love.” he utters words meant for you - and only you.

Your heart swells at the indescribable emotion on his face. “Then, rest well. We have to make our getaway in a blaze of glory, remember?”

It wasn’t a blaze of glory, more like a teary trail of apologies and thanks as you embrace Nanami farewell - for the second time today. He hugs Satoru too, but only begrudgingly after he bemoans about being on the brink of death any second now.

You step outside once more, hands shaky at what awaits you.

In the distance, you hear a frantic call of your name. You turn, only to have your parents barreling emotionally into you.

Word seems to have spread around town about what had happened, and your parents were first to come to you - your father running off midspeech.

Through your hurried stream of tears and recollections of what happened, you managed to bawl out “I-I’m so-”

Words which are quickly hushed by your equally emotional parents. “Please don’ apologize.” your mother soothes.

“If anything, I should. I’m so sorry for tryin’ to coop you up here, my dear. I was a scared, insolent man. S’hard to not see you as my little girl, I hope you can forgive me, my darling.” your father sighs shakily. He looks a lot older than you remember him.

Grabbing both your parents into a tight embrace, you whisper out the words “I love you, and I promise to write.”

With a final hug goodbye from your parents - to both you and Satoru, you take a seat in front of him on the now-calm Gege.

“Ready m’lady?” you send a teasing glance at Satoru, who positively swoons overdramatically.

“Oh yes, Mr. Brave n’ Handsome cowboy.” he responds in a theatrically high falsetto. “Travelin’ the world won’t be all sunshines and rainbows, y’know? If you want a way out now then jus’ say the word.” he warns in his normal voice.

“Trynna get rid of me already, cowboy?” you raise a brow playfully. He wraps his arms securely around your waist. “Just sayin’, wouldn’t want you to regret a single thing.” he murmurs softly.

“I won’t. As long as we win against those tumbleweeds, right?”

Huffing out a laugh, “Can’t promise ya that, my love. You’ll jus’ have to take a chance on me.”

The snap of reins. A last look at your waving parents, and your little town of Rustcliffe. You ride into the horizon with your white dress billowing behind you - on what you and Satoru would later consider blazing glory.

---

“Didya hear about the mayor’s daughter? Last I heard, she was kidnapped by a rogue cowboy a couple years back, snatched her straight off her feet on her wedding day!”

“Hogwash! I heard she went quite willingly - the boy was quite a looker, you see. Stabbed her fiancé in his sleep before riding off into the sunset!”

Nanami stifles a laugh at the scandalized gasps echoing around the table as the old drunkards run the gossip mill.

In a subtle motion, he discreetly tucks away a photograph, its back adorned with enthusiastic handwriting and a…hoofprint?

Taj Mahal sprawling in the backdrop, two identical heads of white hair grin mischievously in the photo.

Yet, yours takes center stage.

A/N. Did this in two days, anything is possible kids (I need to lie down). Reblogs are so so so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

9K notes · View notes

0wlettie · 3 months ago

Text

⏾⋆.˚─── caleb x fem!reader

⏾⋆.˚─── synopsis: lonely and feeling ridiculously horny because of your period, you decide to pass the time as you wait for caleb to come back. you're expecting your cycle to be finished when he does, so you have no issue with taking care of yourself. in his bed. but, he unexpectedly comes back early and catches you in the act...

⏾⋆.˚─── tags: 13.4k, gege usage, heavy talk of periods/sexual activity while on a period, like seriously i go into heavy detail so if you're uncomfy w/that kinda stuff i'd definitely skip this one, down bad reader, like super down bad reader, light angst, porn-without-plot, frottage, masturbation (reader), multiple orgasms, blood, like, i'm so serious there's a lot of blood in this fic, you've been warned, D/s dynamics, under-negotiated kink, light degradation, pet names (baby, pipsqueak), soft!caleb, but he's still wild af so there are some choice lines here, tbh reader is wild af too, they're both incredibly weird about one another, inappropriate evol usage, kissing, just so many kisses in this, crying (but make it sexy), this has a lot of feelings in it and i'm not at all sorry for it, fingerfucking, overstimulation, dirty talk, period sex, unprotected sex

⏾⋆.˚─── ao3 if you prefer ;)

⏾⋆.˚─── a/n: i'm so serious ya'll this is just absolutely disgusting filth that came to me during my own cycle, high as shit and way too horny for my own good. that combined with the one sc of this recent period sex fic with sylus…the thought in my head grew even LOUDER so yea, here this is. if it's not your cup of tea then please, by all means skip because i'm so serious, this is like, so fucking nasty and unhinged it's embarrassing. i'm warning you please heed the tags this is a lot ;;; title derived from Nasty by Tinashe because duh lol Minors Do Not Interact (ageless blogs who follow will be blocked without hesitation)

Being mindful of your period dates never came easy to you. Your particular cycle is pretty regular, but you have so many things going on in your head that those dates are pushed to the far, far back of your thoughts. Until you wake up one morning and you find yourself recreating a horrific murder scene underneath your sheets. Except in this instance, you were wide awake when you felt the inside of your underwear begin to stick to your skin. You’re just lucky you were able to get up before you inevitably stained the sheets.

Your stomach spasms, and you hiss as you curl up on your side, burying yourself into the dark brown comforter you're currently wrapped in. Your hands rub and squeeze the pudge of your belly, trying in vain to soothe the cramps currently attacking you. But they don’t do a thing to help, and you’re forced to curl up even tighter, digging your knees into your chest. This is the absolute worst and you wish you could just make it stop with your thoughts alone.

‘Maybe I should get a tracker? Or have it in my calendar?’ You let out a shaky sigh, fingers digging into the red and black pajama pants covering your legs. ‘Or maybe I should tell gege to remind me.’ The thought makes you wheeze out a laugh, groaning in pain when your uterus internally fists your guts—and not in the fun way. ‘Well, at least he’s out on a sudden mission. I should be done by the time he comes back.’ You think wryly, wincing when another sharp pain stabs through your abdomen. You were supposed to spend your vacation with Caleb, but right when you made it to Skyhaven, something urgent came up. He had just enough time to take you to his home before he set off for whatever Farspace Fleet mission he had to complete.

You’ve come to learn that answering your texts or returning your calls was always fifty-fifty when he was out on a job, so you’ve had very minimal contact with him since. Three days have passed without much of anything from him, and in the cold and empty apartment left behind, your only solace is his bedroom. With a king sized mattress and state of the art window dimmers, it resembles more of a cave after you make yourself comfortable. Presumptuous of you and certainly rude, but you honestly don’t care. You missed your gege, and now that he was back in your life, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away; even if it meant crossing some boundaries.

You glance down at the hoodie and sweats you’re wearing. Even the boxers you have on now are his—lined with a thick pad in case you leaked around your tampon before you could get to the toilet. It’d be fine for the hoodie. But wearing his underwear and pants, while on your cycle? Risking staining his clothes with your blood? That was a level of strange you never thought you’d fall to, but here you are now; wearing his clothes while you wait for him to return from his top secret Colonel mission that he's not allowed to tell you about. You’re thankful you’ve got plenty of time to spare this visit—especially since this will technically be the first time you’ve stayed over since you reunited.

Your boss had actually forced you to take a couple of weeks off. You’re a bit of a workaholic, and with your job as a pencil pusher for the Hunter Association, that means that you’re constantly busy. There’s a ridiculous amount of paperwork involved with Hunters—property damage, travel costs, medical insurance files, new weapons costs, uniform costs, and the list goes on and on. It doesn’t help that you have no life outside of work, either. The few friends you have from college are now married and have whole families and careers to worry about. You can’t even remember the last time you saw them.

Your only focus was work—even more so in the months after losing Caleb. No family and no friends, you spiraled into the one constant in your life. You never went home, falling asleep at your desk far more times than you can remember. You used the free access to the Hunter training gym to shower, and used the cafeteria and vending machines to eat and drink. Toughed out the worst of your periods with nothing but work driving you. And because your department was so understaffed, no one batted an eyelash and allowed you to continue your unhealthy working habits.

And you probably would have done so for the rest of your miserable life too, if not for Caleb's sudden reappearance. Adorned with a new uniform, a new title, and a somewhat colder personality than you were used to, it shocked you so bad that you had no choice but to take some time off to figure out what the hell was going on. He still hasn’t fully explained to you what happened either, despite your many questions. Has just given you bare bones explanations to your blatant prodding; unsubtly changing the subject when he couldn’t say more. You wanted to be angry, and at first you were so fucking furious that you honestly didn’t know what to do with yourself. But that morphed into a desperate sort of joy after thinking it over for a couple of days. You could stay mad at him; avoiding his calls and texts, not answering your door, etc. Or, you could accept that you might never find out the truth and allow Caleb back into your life again. Allow your gege to come back like how you’ve wished him to in the countless sleepless nights you’ve had since the accident.

It was an easy choice after that.

Gradually, your life became less and less about work, and more about reconnecting with Caleb. And gradually, you began to revert back to the person you used to be. Your department also hired more people to help lighten the workloads, which led to an investigation into the crazy amount of overtime your department had accrued, which leads you here now a month after Caleb’s reappearance; four weeks of paid vacation with orders to use it all, because you still had at least three more to take before the end of the year.

And what better way to spend that vacation with the one you loved most?

‘It would've been nice if I remembered my period dates, though. I only have a few stray tampons in my bag, and this is the last backup pad in the pack I bought. I would order stuff, but I don’t even know if I can make it to the bathroom, let alone all the way to the front door. Can OTTO pick it up for me, maybe? Or maybe the lil robot will give me another one of those excuses not too.’ You groan into the pillow your face is buried in; squeezing your eyes shut when that tight fist in your belly tightens and twists. You want to scream, but frankly, you’re so tired that you can’t muster up the energy. It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with this level of pain, and it was only the beginning of day two. Sure, you had the occasional bad cramp or your pussy ached every time you got up and moved, but that was usually between the third and fourth day. Maybe the stress had affected you somehow? Or maybe it was your diet? Whatever the case, it leaves you damn near immobile as you lay in Caleb’s bed.

You’ve got something random playing on your laptop behind you, and you let your thoughts drift as the pain in your abdomen ebbs and flows. Wrapped in your gege’s clothes, lying on his bed, drowning in his familiar and comforting scent, and knowing that he’s coming back to you lulls you into a light doze. The pain turns into a background sensation to you, blurring your perception of time until it becomes unrecognizable. You don’t know how long you spend in that state, only that you’re suddenly jolted up by the familiar pulse of heat that flares up in your cunt.

You fly up and out of the bed, windmilling to try and save you from tripping over the covers when you nearly faceplant. You hop around until you’re free, racing off to the bathroom once your bare feet hit the floor. You continuously chant inside of your mind to ‘please don’t leak, please don’t leak, please—’ all the way until you pull your pants down and sit on the toilet.

Five minutes later, you’re rewrapping yourself in the covers, with a fresh tampon and only the smallest of dots of blood on your pad. Your laptop is playing still, but this time you face it, taking in the time. 9:41 p.m. Later than you expected, but that also isn’t very surprising either. You readjust the laptop and settle into the covers.

You pull up the hood around your ears, taking in a big breath of the remnants of Caleb’s cologne and laundry detergent found in the soft cotton. Your body instantly relaxes, a sense of warmth and comfort overtaking you. Eyes glazing over, you snuggle deeper into the covers, rubbing your feet against the smooth fabric. The leg on the pants you’re wearing shifts after your leg moves, pulling down awkwardly and rubbing the seam on the crotch directly against your clit. Your hips jerk forward instinctively, causing the seam to brush against you again.

The warmth and comfort from before grows sweeter, almost. Slow and syrupy, a different sort of heat builds up beneath your skin. The breath you let out is weak, turning into a ragged moan when you move your hips again. A hazy fog settles over your mind as you grind your pussy into the coarse fabric of your gege’s sleep pants. Even if the pad and feeling of your tampon reminds you of the awful mess going on in between your legs, you find that the continuous gush of your slick and blood turns you on more. It mixes with the pain, making everything all the more intense for your mind to take in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” You mumble out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you desperately swivel your hips. One hard grind has the tampon in you shifting, and you bite into the fabric of the hoodie pressed against your face when a sharp burst of pleasure tightens that coil forming in your lower gut. You move to try and hit that angle again, but you can’t seem to find that exact spot. You whine, furrowing your brows as a piercing ache travels up from your cunt, shivering when you rub against your clit so hard it sends sparks traveling down your spine.

But it’s not enough. None of it is enough for you.

You try to move faster, rubbing harder against the cloth but nothing seems to work. You’re teetering along that thin ledge, so close yet so far from reaching the peak you crave. It’s enough to make the tears blurring your vision fall, a helpless sort of feeling welling up beneath your ribcage. You can’t bring yourself to reach down and slip your fingers beneath the layers covering your lower half. The thought of it embarrasses you too much. So you’re forced to grind against the cloth covering you, like some desperate and feral thing, fuzzy-brained and moving on the pure instinct to feel good. It’s as humiliating as it is arousing, so despite the flush coloring your face, you continue your movements. You breathe in when more wetness gushes from your cunt, eyes rolling into the back of your head when more of your gege’s scent filters in through your nose. The mental blur suddenly sharpens, and you have a crystal clear image of your gege in your mind.

‘Caleb.’

You can picture the look he’d give you if he realized what you were going through; the slant of his brows concerned, a sympathetic light in his eyes as his mouth curls into a little frown. He’s helped you before, during the worst of your cycles. Holding you within the warm cradle of his arms, playing with the strands of your hair and talking you through the worst of your pain, rubbing a soothing hand over your soft tummy when the cramps made you tear up and cry out for his help. Another part of you wonders how he’d look at you now, with you frantically humping the fabric of his pants; desperate and needy for the sudden urges flooding your mind. It excites you even more, trying to picture his reaction, what he could possibly do to you when you’re so vulnerable.

“Gege…” You don’t even realize you’ve spoken, memories of Caleb blurring your shaky vision. Like how big he felt wrapped around you, his chest pressed to your back while his palms slowly rubbed your stomach. The rough pound of his heartbeat as you felt it through the thinness of his shirt, his breaths quiet and warm as they puffed against the skin of your neck. New images branch off from the memories rolling through your head—little ‘what if’ moments that feed off the darker parts of your thoughts. They flick through your thoughts like a slideshow, showing you what you’ve been craving ever since you realized the true scope of your feelings towards your gege.

The heat burning you from the inside out grows hotter, the noises from your throat loud and pathetic even to your own ears as you helplessly grind back and forth, flashes of Caleb spurring you on. Fantasies of yours that haunt you no matter the time of day. Of his hands and the way they’d easily sink into the flesh of your hips. Of his lips and how they would plant messy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck. Of the deep cadence of his voice, whispering all kinds of dirty things in your ear as he toyed with the sensitive bud of your clit. Of his strong arms and how easily they’d hold you down to the bed, the heavy press of his body keeping you trapped underneath him as he bucked against you. The snap of his hips as they’d meet the backs of your thighs, the loud and obscene sounds mingling with the wet gush of your cunt; the tip of his cock railing you so deep that you’d be screaming—

“Fuck, gege, please—!” You choke when your orgasm sneaks up on you, legs snapping closed and spine arching so deeply that you feel a muscle in your back jump. Your entire body trembles from the aftershocks, mind whiting out completely as your brain fries from the intensity. A long string of drool slides down your chin as your eyes stare blankly ahead, chest heaving from the rough breaths you intake. Phantom touches to your hips and thighs make your hips jerk as another gush of fluid seeps through the tampon, and you let loose a loud groan.

You’re expecting the fire in your veins to calm, but if anything, the frenzy gets even hotter. You don’t feel satisfied in the slightest, and a sob builds in your throat when you realize that fact. The way your cunt aches with the need to be filled; the raw desire to have your gege buried inside of you, shaft covered in a mix of your cum and blood. You feel dirty just thinking about it, but that feeling doesn’t stop you from jerkily reaching out to snag a nearby pillow. You quickly drag it within the tight cocoon wrapped around you, stuffing it in between your thighs. The first grind against it has you sobbing, the tears returning to blur your vision as you flip yourself to rest on your stomach.

You squeeze your legs together when you feel a particularly wet rush of something slide onto your pad. You push your face harder into the pillow, moaning loudly when you buck your hips forward. You can feel a definitive wetness stick to your cunt after moving, the dizzying mix of shame and arousal spreading through your veins like liquid magma. Your knees sink into the soft bedding as you spread them, one of your hands cupping your tit as the other slightly holds you up.

The pain of your cramps is long gone, replaced with the itch of arousal that refuses to go away. No matter how many times you try to work yourself over, you can’t pass that peak again. It leaves you crying desperately into the pillow, its surface soaked from your tears and drool. Your thighs are completely sticky and gross, the fabric of his boxers sticking to the half-dry fluids staining your skin. Sensitive and shaky, you’re no closer to finishing than you were what feels like ages ago at this point. You need more than just fantasies, now. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. You need him to help you, to drive away that burning itch that drives you insane with need and want. You need Caleb—you need your gege.

“Caleb, gege, need you so bad. Please, please need you…!” You whine, your words garbled from behind the pillow in your face. Your hand plays with the heavy sag of your tit, rolling the hard bud of your nipple as you rut against the pillow wedged between your thighs. You can’t stop your fantasies from returning, the images of Caleb touching you, of him kissing you, of him finding his way home in the tight clutch of your cunt. You can feel yourself leak through the layers of Caleb’s bottoms as you breathe in his scent again, a sick sense of pleasure lighting you up from the inside. You feel like such a creep, using his clothes, his underwear, his bed as a tool to help you jerk off. But it also gets you so hot and bothered that you can’t stop even if you wanted to. The thought of marking up his stuff with the scent of you, with your blood, your cum and spit and tears; all of it tips you closer and closer to the edge. No matter how guilty and dirty it makes you feel, you begin to rush towards that end faster and faster.

So lost in yourself, you don’t hear the distant ‘click’ of a door opening. Nor do you hear the sharp clap of shoes against tile, the sound growing louder and closer as you continue your frantic movements. It’s only when you’re reaching the end of your desperate chase, your pussy tightening around the tampon inside of you and the buildup of your orgasm cresting, do you realize that the door to Caleb’s room is open and the lights are being clicked on. You have no time to react, your eyes rolling into the back of your head when you finally reach the end.

“Gege!” You moan into the pillow underneath you, thighs twitching erratically around the pillow in between them. Your arm gives out on you then, and your entire body slumps forward to fall flat on the bed. A cracked whimper falls from your lips, hips kicking forward when the movement draws a weak spurt of something to slip down one of your thighs. It’s deathly silent for what feels like an eternity as your body shakes and your mind returns to you. You could say that you were finally done—that being caught in the act of jerking off in your gege’s bed has sufficiently killed off any traces of arousal, but you’d be a fat fucking liar if you did. You can feel the barest of traces of those nagging embers, smouldering quietly within the aching pit of your stomach.

“...Welcome back, gege.” You croak out after turning your head to the side, seeing Caleb still dressed in his fleet uniform. You think it’s the exhaustion that’s making this a lot easier for you to handle. That and the rush of endorphins in the aftermath of your second orgasm. Otherwise, you don’t think you could’ve looked Caleb’s way at all, wrapped in his comforter and looking like a debauched mess on his bed. Your chest heaves for breath as you watch his painfully still form, the angle of his uniform cap hiding his eyes from you. All you can see is the tight pink line of his mouth, teeth clenching so hard that you can spot a vein throbbing at the edge of his jaw. Your breath catches and you hate yourself a little more when you realize that this side of Caleb is getting you hot all over again.

“Welcome…back.” He echoes your words back, an incredulous kind of deadpan to them that would be funny in any other context. The coldness of his tone combined with the rigidness of his body spells nothing but trouble for you, your cunt fluttering around the tampon inside of you. Ignoring the sudden need to grind into the pillow still held by your trembling thighs, you sit up using your arms. Shakily, you attempt to get into a sitting position, but when moving causes a thin trickle of the mess in your bottoms to seep into the blanket, you freeze. You’re left in an awkward position, half-balancing on your spread knees; hair askew and face sticky with tears and drool.

“...welcome back, huh.” He laughs underneath his breath, darkly unamused. You open your mouth to try and explain yourself, though you don’t even know how you would, when you pause. Caleb reaches up to take off his hat, carelessly tossing it aside with one hand while the other begins undoing his uniform coat. Your mouth goes dry when he stalks forward, both hands now joining in on undressing him. Each article of clothing is thrown to the ground, leaving a trail from his bedroom door all the way to his bed, until he’s clad in nothing but his uniform pants and a plain white tank.

Your eyes dart across the broadness of his shoulders, tracing along the defined lines of his biceps and veiny forearms; the sharpness of his collarbones and the chain that glimmers against them. You’re so distracted by staring at him that you nearly miss his words.

“Alright, time to get up!” His smile is wide, voice oddly chipper; a complete one-eighty from his previous mood. But you aren’t fooled by his faux cheer in the slightest. You can see the lingering heat swirling within his eyes, the barely there threat lurking around the curve of his smile.

“Huh?” You stare up at him, visibly confused and a little uncertain—the high quickly losing its potency and your mind coming back to you fully. He doesn’t blink as he meets your stare, that smile on his face getting the slightest bit wider.

“You’re lookin’ a little sweaty there, so I figured maybe you’re a little hot underneath the covers. Unwrapping yourself seems like a good first step, right? So c’mon, up you get.”

You swallow when you get what he’s telling you, but your legs refuse to cooperate. They feel like they’re made out of jelly, the way they shake beneath the mean look in your gege’s eyes. Your gege who’s usually so kind and sweet to you seems anything but right now, clearly teasing you in your obvious flustered state. Not to mention, the blanket is hiding the disgusting mess you’ve made of his things. You know he’s going to find out anyway, but a part of you just can’t be the one to reveal how much of a pervert you are. Your shame, your desire, your pain—all of it whirs through your head, warring with one another and causing your hesitation. Your shaky and stiff limbs. The quiet rings out for a few moments as you helplessly look at him, the words stuck behind your teeth. Caleb thoughtfully hums, cocking his head to the side—like he’s thinking really hard on your silence. You both know why you can’t speak, it’s clear he can read it in your expression, but he still waits until you're squirming before he gives you an out. An out that’s accompanied by a truly patronizing look on his face.

“Ah, I see. I think I understand, you must need gege’s help getting up, right?” He sounds as if he’s talking to a small child; that lilting coo of his voice oozing condescension. Your mind goes blank when he leans forward, his eyes staring down at you, soft and cruel all at once. You feel small all of sudden. Too small to carry all of the different thoughts muddying up your mind. Too small to focus on difficult to explain emotions and urges. Too small to do anything but listen to your gege Caleb. You slowly nod as a subtle haze takes over your mind, and he takes that as blanket permission to reach out.

“Don’t worry, baby. Gege’s here to make everything okay again.” Slowly and watching you carefully, he untangles the blanket from around your body. You’re looking back at him as the fabric slides off and away from your shoulder, so you get a front row seat to the exact moment he catches sight of your lower half. His face goes through rapid-fire changes, too quick for you to catch. But the one he settles on makes your belly go warm, your heartbeat stuttering harshly. Helplessly fond, his lips drop into a more comfortable looking half-smile. A genuinely sweet affection lights up his eyes, momentarily encapsulating the dark look from before.

You flush so hard that you get dizzy from the rush of blood. Why is he looking at you like that? You can’t take it, not when you’re absolutely covered in dried blood, cum, spit and tears.

“That’s why you’re so upset then, hm? You had an accident while playing in gege’s bed?”

“Caleb!” You get a reprimand in the sound of his teeth kissing the back of his tongue. You whine out a soft ‘gege’ and you're comforted by his warm hand cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the hottest part of your soft skin.

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, you know. Accidents happen sometimes, and you’ve always been a messy girl, even when you try not to be.” He smiles when you shake your head furiously. You open your mouth to show him just how much you disagree with that statement, but you’re stopped when he lightly pats your cheek.

“How about we get you all cleaned up first. You can’t be very comfy covered in all that blood.” Before you can agree or disagree, though, he easily picks you up. You stare, wide eyed, as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom; uncaring about the blood rubbing off onto his shirt and bare skin from touching the inside of the blanket. Like he has no issue with your period blood staining the color of his skin, like you just haven’t seen him be grossed out by less egregious things like wasabi-flavored marshmallows. You think you black out for a moment from the whirlwind of emotions flooding your brain, because the next thing you know, you’re standing on your feet while Caleb starts the shower for you. You blankly stare at his back before you notice something in the corner of your eyes. A second pair of clothes and the last of your tampons sits on the sink, and notably, they’re his clothes rather than yours. Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel, and your eyes dart up and away because of it. You meet your own gaze in the mirror above the porcelain bowl in your haste.

There really is no hiding what you were up to, not when your face still reads like you’ve been railed within an inch of your life, eyes glossy and lips bitten red. You watch as your cheeks grow a deeper pink in real time, and you quickly focus on something else when it grows to be too much. You glance at your lower half, flicking between the heavy black swath trailing up the middle of the crotch to the wet droplets pooling underneath your feet. ‘You had an accident while laying in gege’s bed?’ ‘You’ve always been a messy girl.’ Oh you’re going fucking crazy replaying those lines in your head. It feels as if your face is on fire from how hot his voice gets you; how dirty you felt when he called you messy.

Your attention shifts to Caleb when the abrupt sound of water bouncing off tile startles you. Eyes drawn to the hunch of his shoulders, you follow the bunch and flex of his traps and deltoids as he adjusts the water temp. Your pussy throbs as your eyes trail down the curve of his spine, tracing over every dip and bulge you can see underneath his tank and pants. His feet are bare, and you idly wonder when he got rid of his socks before the sharp echo of his voice snaps you out of your daze.

“Water’s ready. I’m gonna bring in some fresh towels after you hop in, forgot to replace ‘em before I left.” He’s fully facing you now, so you’re able to see the direct aftermath of him carrying you. You feel as if you’re about to combust from the heat boiling beneath your skin, your mouth suddenly filled with so much saliva that you have to swallow. Knowing and seeing are two different things, that’s clear to you when you feel absolutely unhinged at the wild picture Caleb makes.

His hands are streaked with blood all the way up to his forearm, some of the lines rubbing off a watery pink from the shower. The entire lower half of his tank is wet, a few parts darker than the others as your blood starts to dry. You can see how the thin, wet material molds to the outline of his abdomen, able to perfectly trace those deeply cut grooves as he shifts. His pants seem relatively safe, save for the long drips you can see at the bottom of the leg. Then your eyes naturally drop to his feet, and there too are drops and streaks of your blood, and most definitely your cum, splattered across the tops. He shifts his footing slightly, and the vein that briefly pops out disturbs a droplet, which then breaks and curves down to drip onto the floor.

He doesn’t even seem to care or notice the blood. Actually, he doesn’t seem to care about any of it at all.

“Take as long as you need to, alright? I’m just gonna grab a trash bag and fix up my room before cleaning myself up. Also, I’m not sure when you last ate, but I’m pretty hungry. It’s late for delivery, so I’ll whip us up something to eat after. Maybe we can watch a movie or something if you aren’t too tired?”

Why isn’t he bringing up the obvious? Why is he just looking at you like normal, speaking to you as if he doesn’t know what happened—what you did in his bed. Why is he not grossed out when he’s covered in your fucking period blood; something that is even disgusting to you, and it comes from your body!

“Just leave all your bloody stuff in the corner right there, I’ll come pick ‘em up when I drop off the towels. I left you some of your tampons, but I noticed you didn’t have anymore? I can make a quick stop at the convenience store, I’m pretty sure they’ve got something to tide you over until the morning.”

You can’t help but look at him like he’s gone insane.

“Why are you being so normal about this?!” You don’t mean to get loud, but you do anyway. Caleb hardly flinches, staring at you with a raised eyebrow. Like you’re the crazy one here for being upset that he isn’t. You can feel the familiar burn of tears and it makes you want to scream. God, you fucking hate being on your period—you usually aren’t this emotional. Nor are you this impulsive when it comes to your urges, yet here you are. Trying to face the consequences of your actions, waiting for him to call you out, but he doesn’t. He’s acting like nothing ever happened at all. But the bloody proof is right here in front of you both and it just confuses you even more. His face instantly changes, and he steps a bit closer with his hands raised; like he’s reaching out to comfort you.

“I know it was an accident, pipsqueak. You didn’t mean it.” The soft tone of his voice paired with his gentle smile nearly has you smack him, and seeing that, he changes his hands in a placating gesture instead. But you shake your head a moment later, the anger bleeding into a deep seated guilt. Because you like the way he looks now. With your blood and cum staining his body and clothes. You enjoy the fact that you’ve bled on him, that you’ve marked him in a way that no other woman will. You’re a complete and utter creep and you need him to see that. Need him to understand, because you don’t deserve to be looked at with so much affection…with so much love. You blow out a shaky breath. You know what you’ve got to do; even if it’ll make you feel so much worse, you just have to get him to realize that you’re weird. Hastily, before you can lose your nerve, you step forward and crowd against Caleb until you’re pressed close together. His eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t move away from you. You grip the necklace dangling in between his pecs, tugging until he’s forced to bend down to your level.

“How do you know I didn’t mean it?” You ask quietly, the tips of your noses barely touching as his hair gently brushes against your forehead. The expression on his face falters and you feel how he tenses against you. You swallow, but continue despite how sick you are with nerves.

“How…how are you so sure that it was an accident, that I’m embarrassed because I feel sorry about what I did?”

“Pips—”

“Because I don’t. Feel sorry, that is. I’m not at all, in fact, I like the fact that you caught me. I like the fact that you’ve got my…my fluids smeared all over you. Like you’ve been marked by me, as if I have any right to claim you as mine.” You choke on the rush of words spilling from your mouth, raising your palm to cover Caleb’s mouth when it looks like he’ll speak again. His eyes bore into you, his pupils blown wide enough to leave only a thin ring of purple surrounding it.

“S’really gross, gege. I’m really gross! I’m a disgusting, perverted freak and you shouldn’t be so nice to me when I completely ruined your clothes and your blanket! Do you know that I’m wearing a pair of your underwear? That I made such a mess because I couldn’t stop myself from jerking off in your bed? That I lost control because I’ve missed you so much and being surrounded by your things drove me insane? If I had just been normal, or if I’d have ran to the bathroom, then none of this would’ve happened. I’m the literal worst, you know I am.” You ignore the fact that he’s now walking you backwards, hands guiding you by your shoulders as you babble, lost in a haze of self-pity. You run out of steam when he presses your back against the wall, and you jolt when the chill seeps through the back of his hoodie. You peer up at him with watery eyes when he wraps one of his hands firmly around your wrist. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly pulls your hand away from his mouth.

You watch him silently, not even trying to put up a fight. What’s the point in fighting now that your shame is out in the open?

“You are not the worst, so stop saying that.” His voice is rough; quiet and ragged in a way that means he’s trying his best to stay in control. Your heart throbs hearing the strain, and you freeze when he raises his other hand to gently touch the bottom of your face. The look in his eyes is intense; something so tenderly affectionate, yet deeply consuming. It’s a look you��ve seen in glimpses, but never fully directed at you when you’re like this—vulnerable and oh so small beneath his large hands and looming figure. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to turn away from that unbearably complex look in his eyes, but he keeps you in place with his fingers at the edge of your chin. You can feel the intense stare he’s giving you, and as much as you want to avoid it, you just inherently know that you can’t. Nothing you ever do escapes Caleb, and this is no different. So, reluctantly, you open your eyes and meet his stare.

He gives you a lopsided smile.

“No one gets to be mean to you, including yourself.” You sigh and roll your eyes a bit, acting as if your entire face isn’t on fire. As if you don’t feel warm butterflies fluttering within the space in your belly hearing him say that.

“Besides,” he trails off, your attention snapping back to him when you hear the heavy tone to his voice. His eyes are half-lidded, the fingers on your chin gently trailing down the side of your neck. He’s watching the path the calloused pads of his fingers trace, eyes growing darker when his nails cause goosebumps to arise along your skin.

“I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I were to judge you.” The idea clicks in your mind faster than you can truly comprehend, and automatically, your eyes drop to his waist. He was careful to keep a distance between your bottom halves, and now you know the reason why. The bulge that greets you is prominent and big; big enough for your cunt to clench around your tampon when you try and imagine taking it inside of you.

“...” You open and close your mouth, your face heating up so quickly that you feel lightheaded. You can hardly believe what you’re seeing, but it’s as clear as day in front of you. Your eyes flick up to Caleb’s, teeth snagging on the fat of your lower lip when you see the rising flush spreading across his cheeks and nose. It’s oddly cute and it’s not an expression you’re used to seeing on him.

“So just relax, okay? There’s nothin’ to get worked up over. S’just you and me here. And you know I’ll always take care of you, no matter what you need me to do.” The unspoken implication within his words makes your already thumping heart race all the faster. He can’t…is he..? A part of you wants to deny what he’s saying; deny what he’s trying to tell you. But that part is small compared to the needy ache welling up behind the space of your ribcage.

“...you mean you want this, you want me—”

“Always.” The subtle tinge of desperation you can detect momentarily blindsides you, and you don’t bother stopping your words anymore when it fully registers in your mind.

“Even when I’m..I’m on my—?” You jerk your head to gesture at your lower half. Caleb hums softly, leaning forward while bringing your hand to rest on his chest. You can feel the rapid pound of his heartbeat as he cages you against the wall, pressing his free arm to rest above your head.

“You think a lil mess like that is gonna scare me away, pipsqueak?”

You shake at the cajoling tone of his voice, brain going a little empty at the look he gives you. The fingers gently grazing your flushed skin shifts to the heavy drag of his palm as he cups the underside of your neck. You can feel the rapid flutter of your pulse as it beats a harsh rhythm through your jugular, eyes glued to his face as he brings himself closer.

“I’ve always cleaned up after you before, haven’t I? What makes this time any different?”

“Gege, I’m too old to–!”

“You’re never too old for gege to take care of.” He dismisses easily, and you have no rebuttal to the utter surety to his voice.

“...you seriously want to…?” You have to ask again, have to make sure that you aren’t losing your marbles. As repetitive and annoying it has to be to say the same things over and over again. Caleb reassures you with ease, gently nuzzling the tip of his nose against your temple. You lean into the pressure, eyes closing when you feel the warm puffs of his breath as they brush against your skin.

“Just wanna take care of you, baby. In whatever way you need me to.”

It clicks for you, then. That Caleb is serious about what he says—is serious about taking care of you in that way. You groan low in your throat at the realization, wordlessly wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling yourself further into his chest. You feel his breath stutter when you press close, his already hot temperature rising as you rest your cheek against his. Neither of you speak as he slips his hands down to rest on your waist, the only signal for his sudden movement the slight shift of his feet before he picks you up. You gasp, fingers grasping the rounded out muscles of his biceps as he curls his hands on the backs of your thighs, spreading your legs and slotting his waist in between them. He presses close, and your hips instinctively buck against the pressure rubbing against your cunt, legs wrapping around his waist to lock at the small of his back.

Could you really have this?

Is he really going to give this to you?

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, crossing your arms behind his shoulders and squeezing tight.

“...help me.” You whisper, curling your hands into fists. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you aren't sure if you’re terrified or excited; maybe a bit of both, if you’re being completely honest.

“Help you with what?” He asks, and you want to scream at how calm he sounds, at how he’s forcing you to verbalize what you want.

“Gege—!” You whine, pointedly rocking your hips forward to convey what exactly you want. But it’s clear he’s having none of it, stilling your movements with the use of his Evol. The pressure is gentle but firm as he holds you back, a casual kind of dominance that has you stifle a moan within the sweaty and warm skin of his throat.

“You’re a big girl, right? So be good for me and use your words. Tell me what you need.”

You shake in his arms, your entire body going hot at the sound of his voice. The tone of voice he uses when he’s scolding you, like you’re some unruly little kid in need of a stern talking to. You feel so small, then. Too big for the shame keeping your desires lodged in your throat. Too big to worry about right and wrong when your gege is here now, willing to give you what you want if you just open your mouth and ask. So what’s holding you back, then, if you let all of your worries fade? If you follow your gege’s lead, everything will be alright because he’s never steered you wrong before.

“Need…need you to touch me, gege.” You almost sob, nails digging into your palms as you spill your guts. “Need you to make it stop hurting; need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” The hands on your thighs tighten, his voice growing rougher as he pulls you against him; bugle rubbing against your through your layers. You whimper, biting your lip as you desperately try to move. But his Evol has you stuck, clamping down and keeping your body in place.

“Please, gege, please fill me up—” You gasp when he groans and hefts you higher into his arms. This dislodges you from his neck. so you’re forced to stare at him as he swiftly pivots and heads towards the still running shower. The tops of his cheeks are flushed a warm pink, and his eyes look dark underneath the overhead lights as he clears the short distance in mere seconds. You can’t seem to stop the flow of your whimpering pleas as you tilt forward, whining into his ear and rubbing up against him as he moves. It’s driving you crazy how much you want him inside you. More fluid—a mix of blood and slick—gushes out to wet your pants, and you can feel it leak onto Caleb as he slides the shower door open.

His dick twitches against you in the confines of his pants as he steps into the shower, fingers digging into your thighs tight enough for you to feel it. You shiver when the heat envelops you, your already warm body getting hotter as the warm spray pelts your skin and clothes. Within moments the clothes you’re wearing stick to your body, but that becomes unimportant to you when Caleb presses you against the wall again. He keeps you there with the use of his Evol, your legs bent at the knee and spread out. You whine when he shifts back to look at you, freezing to stare unblinkingly at your position. The line of his jaw goes tight, and you see his shoulders move as he inhales deeply. You try to beg him to come closer to you, of course, not wanting to be apart for a second, but your complaints die on your lips when he grabs his tank from the back. He slips it up and off his head, rivulets of pink-tinted water smearing through the blood covering him and tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. Absently, you hear the distant wet ‘smack’ as it lands on the ground, but you’re too focused on the way that glinting silver chain sways against the sharp dip of his collarbones as he steps closer to you.

“You sure about this, [✦]?” The sound of your name is jarring, and you snap your eyes up to meet his. He’s serious as he regards you, his hands hovering over you as if waiting for your permission to undress you. You swallow at the weight in his gaze. It’d be intimidating, you think, if you weren’t so keyed up and ready for him to touch you. If you couldn’t see how excited he is for you, as much as you’re excited for him.

“Mhm, want you so bad, gege. Please, please touch me.” You feel tears bead at the corners of your eyes, the need coursing through you itching at your skin painfully. His expression softens at your words and he wastes no time in crowding closer, cupping the side of your face with one of his large hands. He gently brushes them away with his thumb, bending down so close that you feel his breath puff against your parted lips. The look in his eyes is intense; so many emotions flitting through his eyes too fast for you to catch. All you know is that your heart is quaking within your chest, a dizziness flooding your mind as his eyes drop to your lips.

“Okay.” His voice is almost lost within the steady pitter-patter of the water beating along the shower tiles, and for a moment, all you two do is stare at each other. The tension is thick between you two, growing thicker as one beat passes, then two, then three, until he finally moves.

Your eyes close when his lips meet yours, and it feels like fireworks are going off behind your eyelids. His lips are chapped, but still soft and warm as they move against you; the hand cupping your cheek titling your head for a better angle. You eagerly try and reciprocate as much as you can stuck in place by his Evol, cunt tightening when you hear him groan into your mouth. The kiss gets messier as he plasters himself to you, his other hand landing on your leg as he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip.

You instinctively open your mouth wide, keening when his tongue slips in. He explores your mouth, almost cautiously at first. As if he’s trying to be gentle and ease you into more intense kisses. Soon, though, that restraint seems to waver the longer you’re pressed against each other. Your own mind is barely hanging on by a thread, hips uselessly jerking forward, trying so hard to rub your achy clit against him and scratch that itch inside of you. But he isn’t close enough for you to, hips resting just barely out of reach. Uncontrollable whines fall from your mouth, muffled but constant as you two meet again and again, need lighting you up from the inside and turning your brain to mush.

By the time he pulls away from you long enough to breathe, your pants are soaked with more than just water. This entire time blood and slick have been leaking out of you, staining the already ruined sleep pants and sticking them uncomfortably to your skin. You try and wiggle, wanting to take your clothes off but mind too lost to really come up with a coherent thought. Caleb’s chest heaves as he looks at you, the hand on your cheek trailing down to rest at the base of your throat; the other slides further inward, stopping just shy of where the bloody crotch of your pants begins.

“Want these off?” One look at your face and he seems to know what you want without hesitation. You can only nod in confirmation, shakily breathing out when he repositions himself. Eyes flicking from your face to your body, slowly, he begins undressing you. He strips off the hoodie first, and you only realize that you’re not wearing anything underneath a split second before he gets it off you. He tosses the drenched fabric to the side, landing in a nearby corner with a pathetic ‘squelch’ you could hear even above the harsh spray of the water. It makes you wince a little, embarrassment flooding your belly with butterflies when your eyes flick to the hoodie and back to Caleb. Your heart thumps almost painfully in your chest when you see where his eyes are at; glued to your chest and the sway of your tits as you breathe. The look on his face sends a pulse of heat racing through your body down to your throbbing cunt, arms twitching to come up and cover yourself, but staying in place underneath the weight of his Evol.

“Gege!” You whine at him, needing to say something to get him to actually move. Needing something to distract you from the burning of your cheeks. Your voice comes out louder than you intended, though, echoing off the tiled walls and leaving a faint ring in your ears. He blinks, as if snapping out of a trance. Inhaling another deep breath, he brings his eyes up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth curling into a small smile. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of the sweats clinging to your legs, leaning down to buss a kiss to the side of your temple. His Evol releases your legs and they fall limply to hang, though your feet still don’t touch the ground as he keeps your upper half glued to the white tile.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just too pretty for me to ignore, baby. Can’t help but get distracted.” You shiver when he ducks further down to speak into your ear, your eyes locked onto his hands as his knuckles press into the wet skin of your tummy. With your lower half now free, you squirm and buck your hips. The feeling of the clothes sticking to your skin is starting to make you upset, and you need them off of you right now.

“Hurry up and take ‘em off, gege. I don’t like how they stick to me—s’gross.” You wiggle around some more, but stop when he chuckles and pushes his knuckles against your belly.

“Alright, alright. Settle down and be just a little more patient for me, okay?”

You groan, but do as he says, stilling your jerking hips with a slight pout. He places a kiss on the tip of your ear, leaning his head against yours for a moment before he moves. You watch as he slowly peels the wet fabric down your hips, fingers snagged into the waistband of his boxers as he goes. The weight of his stare is heavy and present as more and more of your lower half is revealed, and your eyes widen when he starts to crouch down and follow the path of his hands. It ends with him resting his knees on the tile, pants and underwear pooling at your ankles while he stares up at you.

You want to look away from him—don’t want to maintain eye contact when you’re entirely bare before him, with him so close to you and the disgusting mess in between your legs. But you also can’t look away from the expression on his face. The naked hunger as he slides your ankle from the pile on the ground, bending your leg until it rests on his shoulder. He does the same for your other, and before you know it, you’re completely spread open for him to view; his face level with your cunt. There’s still some space between you two, but it’s clear that he intends to close it as he leans forward. It makes you clench down again on the tampon inside of you, and you panic when you realize you have to remove it still. You’re speaking before you can stop yourself.

“W-wait!”

He immediately freezes in place, eyes creasing in concern as he glances up at you.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to stop?”

You bite your lip, legs twitching with the need to close and hide yourself. Stupid of you to get so carried away that you didn’t think about how exactly you were going to do this. You need to take your tampon out, as well as wash away the dried mess sticking to your inner thighs. Most of it was wiped away from the water, but a few stubborn spots still faintly tint your skin. You can’t just jump into everything right away without taking care of that…right?

“C’mon, talk to me, pipsqueak. If you need a break, or if you need me to stop we can. I won’t be upset.”

He’s so earnest and reassuring that your nerves immediately lessen. You breathe out slowly and shake your head.

“N-no, no. That’s not…no I want this. It’s just…” You groan when the words get stuck in your throat. Your hands twitch with the need to to touch him, to try and ground yourself so you can explain. Something must show on your face because the worried lines of his face ease and you suddenly have the use of your upper torso again. Your entire weight now rests on his shoulders, and your reach out to lace your fingers through his wet hair. You use one hand to slick it back and away from his face, your other dropping to cup his cheek. He doesn’t move any closer to you, but he does lean into the grip you have on his face. You watch him for a few beats longer before quietly getting out your thoughts.

“...gotta take it out, b-before we do anything. Y’know, my…” His eyes widen a bit, and they flick to the place in between your legs for a moment before they return to your face.

“That’s all?” He asks and you nod. “You still wanna do this, then?” You nod again, vigorously enough to make you slightly dizzy. His laugh is so quiet that you almost miss it, but you do see the endeared amusement on his face that has your face feeling unbearably hot.

“Alright.” He looks contemplative for a moment as he stares at you, something forming behind his eyes as his hands come up to rest on the outside of your thighs. Your breath stutters past your lips when he inches forward. He doesn’t break his gaze away from yours as one of his hands slide along the plush fat of your thigh, following along until he ends up gripping the curve of your asscheek. Your hand slips from his cheek and you anchor both of them to the strands of his wet hair, eyes wide. He hums, eyes going half lidded as he shifts so that he’s closer to your cunt, cheek brushing against one of your thighs.

“You want me to help you?” You make a startled noise, jerking when his fingers lightly squeeze your cheek, fingers dragging down until they meet the crease between your thigh and ass. You shiver at the look he gives you, genuine with an underlying darkness that excites you in a way you think should scare you. Like he’s almost…enjoying the idea of taking it out of you. You somehow get even more flustered at the thought, your voice coming out weak as you protest.

“I can do it myself, gege. You don’t need to…” It's hard for the words to pass through your lips, voice growing faint as his eyes grow wide and puppyish—as if he’s trying to plead with you.

“Mhm, I know that you can, but do you want to? Don’t you want gege to take care of it for you?” He trails his fingers up higher, closer to your cunt as he watches you, waiting for your answer. You want to say no, but how can you when confronted with that face? Your hesitancy crumbles within seconds, and you give him a nod as you avert your eyes from his. He doesn’t push for a verbal answer, and even though you refuse to watch him actually do it, that doesn’t mean that you can completely ignore what’s going on.

You can feel his fingers as they gently graze the outside of your cunt. It doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for, and you jolt with a whimper when you feel him tug it out of you. You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel blood rush out as the tampon leaves you. You have no idea what he actually does with it, but you refuse to even look in his direction or ask. Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to describe the tumultuous feelings bubbling within your gut. So many conflicting emotions are spinning around in your mind, and it blinds you a little to your surroundings. So it takes you completely by surprise when you feel his fingers return to your cunt, rubbing along the slick skin of your folds until they meet the edge of your hole.

Your eyes pop open with a startled gasp, fingers tugging at his hair in your shock. Snapping your head down to look at Caleb, you notice he’s already looking back at you and when your eyes lock. He traces around your hole, teasing you with the idea of entering but never fully committing to it. You rut your hips forward, trying to catch the tip of his fingers, but he easily evades it, a small smile curling at his lips. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, but he’s far enough away from your cunt you can’t feel his breath. You don’t know if you want him closer or not, or so you tell yourself.

“Eyes on me, okay? If you look away, I'll stop.” And before you can even react to that, he slips his finger inside of you. Your nails dig into his scalp when you feel the thickness of his finger glide against your walls, a whimper falling past your parted lips as your cunt clenches down tightly. He groans low in his throat, teeth digging into his lower lip as he pulls his finger out. You don’t have to wait long at all until he slides back in, slow and searching as he turns his head to plant messy kisses along your thigh. He eyes you still, nipping at your skin with his teeth when he brushes against a spot that has your legs twitching where they hang on his shoulders, back arching from the pleasure skirting down your spine.

“There we go.” He murmurs, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when one finger turns into two, the coil forming in your belly getting tighter. You're leaking so much that you begin to hear it over the loud spray of the water, a consistent ‘squelch, squelch, squelch’ as water, blood and slick wet his fingers. Your mind is completely filled with the stretch of his fingers, the rush of pleasure as it drowns out your shame and embarrassment. You buck into his hand with a loud moan, tears pooling along your waterline as you try to keep your eyes on him. It’s hard to meet that stare directly, but you force yourself to. You don’t think you could take it if he stopped now, not when you’ve been thinking about this for so long.

But you want more. Want more than the steady pace he keeps with his two fingers. You need something bigger, something to really give you the stretch you so desperately crave.

“Gege, please, want—” You choke on a whimper when he scissors his fingers on the pull out before slipping back in, brushing against that spot once again.

“Mhm, what do you want? Talk to me.”

Except when you go to open your mouth, all that comes out is another loud groan when he scissors his fingers, inserting a third digit that has you tugging at his hair again. You can barely speak as he fucks you with his fingers, teeth and lips leaving marks all over your thigh. You tug at his hair, trying to get him to stop so you can breathe, but that seems to only egg him on. He hisses into your skin, teeth digging in hard as his fingers thrust in and out of you faster. It’s driving you insane to feel this way, the heat boiling beneath your skin turning your thoughts to mush. Water droplets fall into your eyes, and you blink them away quickly, lips parting with a loud whine when you feel the barest hints of his fourth finger lightly stretch your hole. You nearly scream when your back arches sharply, the tight coil suddenly snapping as your orgasm rushes through you like a wave. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your thighs clamping down around his neck as you shake uncontrollably.

“Thaaat’s it, baby. There we go, lemme have it.” Caleb groans into the skin of your thighs, fingers stilling in their thrusts, instead focusing on rubbing at the fleshy spot inside of you that milks your orgasm for longer. The pleasure lighting you up from the inside seems to go on for an eternity, slick and hot fluid gushing out of your cunt and wetting his fingers and your skin as he continues to work you over. You quickly grow sensitive, but if anything, your hips jerk into his fingers, body and mind still craving more even when you start to squeal from overstimulation. You don’t even realize you’re chanting the words ‘more more more gege please gimme more’, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as you clench around the thickness of his fingers.

You jolt back into awareness when your legs are roughly spread open and are pressed into the water-warmed tile behind you. It’s an awkward position for you, your entire lower half exposed from the depth of the stretch, a muscle in your leg twitching as your thighs make contact with the wall. The blood and cum coating your skin and the hair on your pussy gets cleaned off by the warm shower spray, the water making you shiver as it glides across your sensitive body. You blink the mix of water and tears out of your eyes, watching as Caleb stands up to his full height, face a deep-seated mask of hunger and need.

There are traces of new blood flecked along his skin, most of it centering on the fingers of his right hand of course. You even notice a few splotches along the dips of his chest, at the corner of his jaw and dripping down his happy trail to stain the band of his pants. It should make you feel disgusted, but your arousal only grows as you see some of your blood streak with water from the shower.

“...one more.” You barely can make out his mumbled words before he’s advancing towards you, one hand cupping the underside of your jaw and tilting your face up, the other immediately falling between your spread legs to land on your throbbing clit. The first touch of his fingers has your entire body flinching, an almost inhumanly guttural moan exiting from your open mouth when he mercilessly begins to rub. You quickly find that your arms are free when they reach up to wrap around his shoulders, your nails digging into the corded muscle.

“Give me one more and I’ll fuck you, okay? Need to, fuck, need to see you come like that again.” He pants into your mouth, nose to nose as he touches your clit, eyes feverishly desperate as he damn near begs you. You can only sob out in answer, tears blurring your vision when the pressure starts to build up within you again. Faster, this time, and all the more intense as you’re forced to just take what he’s giving you, your lower half held so tightly that you have no chance of running away from the wave rolling through you. And it bulldozes right into you, your voice pitching into a scream and cracking halfway through, bloody red welts left on his shoulder blades by your nails as more tears stream down your face.

You hiccup when his fingers gentle their movements, shivers traveling up your spine when he slides his fingers down the seam of your cunt. He litters your face with kisses; trailing them across your lips and cheeks, to the corners of your eyes and your forehead, even placing one on the tip of your nose. Breathless and wanting, he murmurs little encouragements into the kisses he gives you. ‘Good job, baby’ and ‘You did so well for me’ and ‘Good girl’. All of them serve to turn your mind into slush, a perfect way to distract you as he slowly inserts two of his fingers back into the tight clutch of your pussy. You weakly jolt when you feel it, brain melting out of your ears as he stretches you as wide as he can on his fingers.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Gave gege exactly what he asked for. So beautiful when you break apart under me. ” He plants a tender kiss near the corner of your lips, staring down at you with a crazed, love-drunk expression that makes your heart thump inside of your chest, a feeling so profound and deep that it makes you ache.

“Gege…” Your voice barely carries through the noise of the water, but the shape of your mouth says it all. He offers you a lopsided smile, gently nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours.

“Still want me?”

You don’t even have to think before you’re nodding your head up and down, garbled pleas falling from your lips as you try to push yourself closer.

“Yes, yes, please, gege, please—” He shushes you with a fond huff, thrusting his finger in one last time before pulling them out.

“Relax, alright? Gege’s gonna take care of you, just be patient. Can you be a good girl and wait?”

“Mhm, I can, I can.”

He hums and gives you a quick peck before backing away slightly. The hand on your jaw falls down to touch the waistband of his pants, and between one blink and the next, he’s completely tossed his bottoms off and you finally get to see what’s underneath. Your pussy clenches when you realize just how fucking huge he is; thick enough that your hand would just barely wrap around him fully and long. There’s a definite weight to the flushed shaft of his cock, hanging low even when he’s fully hard. A gush of slick leaks out of you, sliding down your cunt and the curve of your ass before the shower washes it away.

You want him so bad you think you’d actually die if he doesn’t get inside of you soon. You try your best to stay still and listen to your gege, but it’s hard when all you want to do is sink down on his cock; fuck yourself on it so hard that your mind fucking breaks from the pleasure of it.

“That’s a nice expression you’ve got there, pipsqueak.”

The grin in his voice is dark and smug, but you can’t even be mad at him for it because he’s earned it, in your opinion. Still, though. That doesn’t make handling the embarrassment any easier.

“Please…please don’t tease me. I’ve been good, right? I’ve been so good for you, gege, please fuck me.” You reach out your arms to him, a pleading look on your face as your lips tremble with the strain of not whining and crying out like a baby. You’re so close to doing just that it’s not even funny anymore. It’s all worth it, though, when Caleb easily caves and moves back toward you, his dick meeting the side of his thigh with a loud ‘smack’. A broken moan falls from your lips at the sound, and you think you have a bit of an out of body experience because the next thing you’re aware of Caleb’s face is close to yours. One of his hands is gripping your inner thigh, the other on the base of his cock.

“You ready?”

You truly don’t have the breath capacity to voice your agreement, not when you can feel the blazing heat of his bare skin seep through your own. You make some kind of squeak-grunt, because he slowly starts to rub himself against your cunt. Your eyes are glued to the way your blood covers his shaft, clumps and long strings of your cum spreading along the multiple veins you can see. It’s gross, it’s so fucking distgusting but you can’t help that it gets you even wetter, more fluids leaking out and smearing on his skin.

“Eyes on me.” He says, but he doesn’t wait for you to follow, simply using the force of his Evol to tip your head up.

“Deep breath, okay?” You nod and do as he tells you, bracing yourself for the stretch when you feel the tip of his meaty cock slide down to your hole. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again, chest heaving as you both watch him move.With your blood and cum slicking the way, he slowly eases his dick past the tight ring of your hole. Nothing, though, nothing could have prepared you for the sheer girth of his cock as he slides deeper, stretching you so wide that you think you’re being split open. Your breath knocks out of you with a wheeze, lips falling open; overwhelmed by the sheer amount of feeling igniting your nerve endings. Your fingers drag down his shoulders to his chest, your back arching as far as it can go. Your entire head would have bumped against the wall if not for Caleb’s Evol. Inch by agonizing inch he pushes inside you, bullying his way through your clenching walls as you sit there and take it.

“So fucking tight.” He mutters, voice choked as the grip he has on your thigh turns bruising. Like he can’t help but lose control. You pussy grips him harder at those words, causing him to let out a bitten off curse as he fully seats himself in you. The tip brushes against something in you that has a ragged moan tumbling from your lips, going cross-eyed as your fingers scrambling at his chest when Caleb shifts minutely.

You come.

It’s unexpected, how strongly your orgasm barrels into you. A surprise because you didn’t even realize you were close again, but here you are; a shrill scream leaving your mouth as your cunt clamps down so tight on his cock that you feel as if you’re sucking him in deeper; so deep that he has no choice but to stay within the wet warmth of your pussy for forever. You have no idea how long the wave lasts that time, everything around you becoming utterly meaningless in the face of such an overwhelming emotion. Coming back to yourself later, you blink the spots out of your vision, tears falling down your cheeks as you fight to breathe. He’s so…big; big enough that you’re positive you can feel him in your throat and you whimper when you can feel the scorching heat of him twitch inside of you.

Blearily blinking the last of the colors out of your eyes, you turn your attention to Caleb. He’s standing stock still, the hand that was guiding him now resting on your other thigh. His eyes are squeezed shut, lip stuck underneath his teeth as his entire frame subtly shakes. Veins bulging as a flush coloring his cheeks, it’s clear that he’s trying his best to give you time to adjust, to recover from your fifth orgasm of the night. But you don’t want that—you want him to fuck you, regardless of your current sensitivity.

“Gege…gege it's okay. Just—fuck, please move I’m ready, I promise—” You gasp when he suddenly looms over you, his eyes dark as the grip on your thighs turn harsh.

“You’ve gotta be sure, baby. I don’t know if I can hold back once I’ve started, so please,” He groans out when you clench down on him, “wait if you need to. I don’t mind.”

You whine and shake your head. You physically can’t wait any longer. Not when you can feel him like this.

“No, no, I promise I’m ready. It’s all I ever wanted, please don’t make me wait any longer, gege, please.”

You can physically see the moment he snaps.

“Don’t cry about it later then.”

And then he’s lifting your thighs in his wide and warm palms, pulling them up so that they rest on his chest. Your knees hook over his shoulders as he folds you in half, squishing you against the tile. It’s a tight squeeze and unbearably hot as your breaths mingle together, your arms bent at the elbows and stuck in the valley of your tits. But you don’t mind the position, not when you can feel all of him press into you, wet skin against wet skin. How can you care that you can barely breathe when you can feel how much deeper his cock gets in you? He shifts his feet, and the movement has you keening out loudly when the tip stabs into your cervix. He grunts out something too low for you to understand, but that all falls to the wayside when he plants his hands on the wall next to your head and really begins to move.

‘Plap plap plap plap’

Over and over and over again, the tip of his cock pounds against your cervix, the sound of his thighs meeting your ass loud and lewd combined with the moans you emit, but the noises he makes are even worse than that. He doesn’t stop talking to you as he fucks you against the wall, mouth pressed to your ear saying things so dirty and unlike the kind gege you know that it makes your head spin.

“Feel so good wrapped around me, baby. So warm and wet and fuckin’ tight.”

“She’s even better than I, ngh, imagined–fuck. You like that, pipsqueak? Like hearing how much I’ve thought about bending you over and wrecking this cute little pussy of yours?”

“Messy little girl, you’re leakin’ all over me. Hear that, baby?” ‘Squelch.’ “Y’hear how much she likes the way gege fills her up?”

It’s all too much for your brain to handle, embarrassment and arousal tangling up the wires in your mind. All you can do is take whatever your gege gives you, crying and moaning and whining as he repeatedly plunges the tip of his cock into the one spot that sends sparks lighting across your vision. You can tell he’s getting close when the filth spewing from his lips grows a lot more sweet, the pound of his hips growing faster and off-rhythm.

“You feel like a dream, baby. Sucking me in so fuckin’ good and moanin’ so pretty for me.”

“Never gonna let you go ever, ngh. Not when this is all I ever wanted—when this is all I ever needed.”

“You’re all gege’s, right? All for gege to look after, to make you feel good. All for gege to love.”

You feel as if your heart is about to burst out of your chest, your ears ringing with his words as tears fill your vision. He…he loves you? Like, like—

“Gege–!” You cry out, needing to see his face. You have to—you can’t say anything back until you do.

Without skipping a beat, Caleb raises himself up and meets your stare, bare and open in front of you. There’s no fake cheer or mean glint. All you see is Caleb to his barest and most pure form, stripped down to nothing but the deep love and affection in his eyes.

“I love you too, gege. Love you so much.” Your voice cracks over the words, tears dripping down your cheeks as you demand him with your eyes to come closer. And he does, easily engulfing you in his entirety. He drags his lips across your cheeks and lips, sharing breaths as he stares at you like you’re some cosmic wonder. Like you’re everything he’s ever dreamed of. He mumbles ‘I love you’ over and over again like a mantra, eyes going glassy and unfocused as his thrusts become more and more erratic. It takes one, two, three more pumps and it’s over for him. You feel it as his hips stutter and his face slackens, eyes fluttering shut as he leans his forehead against yours. Warm and thick cum fills you to the brim, mixing with the blood and slick. The sounds are absolutely filthy, but you feel anything but when his lips press against yours in the sweetest kiss you’ve shared all night. Your cunt squeezes even tighter around him once that thought settles, something that forces him to let out a high-pitched whimper that you’ve never heard him make before. It makes you proud, then. That you could wring such a vulnerable noise out of your gege. Groaning, he drops his head to your shoulder and allows your legs to fall and wrap around his waist. Using his Evol, he sets the both of you down gently on the shower floor, turning off the water and allowing you two to breathe in a calm quiet.

“...You mean it, baby?”

You don’t hesitate to answer, despite your throat feeling dry and achy.

“I mean it. Love you so much, gege. So, so much.”

He laughs, light and wondrous as he squeezes you in his arms, peppering more kisses along your sweaty hairline. You giggle with him, so, so tired yet so happy as you snake your arms around his torso and lean against him. As crazy as these circumstances are…you are glad that you were able to finally bridge that gap between the two of you.

Even if you had to expose a side of yourself you’d never expect to show.

abrupt ending is abrupt :D no but seriously this is sooooo crazy like, i'm still in shock that i've written this much for this idea; but i actually really ended up putting some of my personal feelings/experiences in this and it was kinda cathartic i'm ngl; now, if you'll excuse me, i think i'm just gonna go hide under a rock while i deal with all the emotions this made me feel ^^

#owlettie's works #owlettie writes #lads caleb #love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb #caleb smut #l&ds caleb #l&ds #lads x you #lads x reader #lads smut #tw periods

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strwbrychffoncke · 6 months ago

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"won't you stop with that look on your face?,, 2k words synopsis: zayne & caleb taking care of you..... contains: lnds zayne + caleb x f!reader (she/her used ,mc!coded) ,sick!reader ,worried!caleb ,doctor!zayne moment ,bickering (zayne + caleb) ,one use of "gege" ,you bicker w caleb ,caleb makes u tea ,kinda smug!zayne at the end ,v annoyed caleb LOL ,i think thats it note: (not edited!) another late night braindump of mine (short n sweet this time cause i started falling asleep while writing it lol??) this can be read as a sequel to "baby ,i care for you,, but can also be read by itself :x

the door to your cozy home doesn't allow more than three knocks to resound through the hardwood before its swung open for the guest by a certain impatient pilot.

"took you long enough," he frowns at the man standing at the entrance.

"apologies, i still had one last round of check-ins and was in the middle of handling some paperwork when you called. how is she?"

caleb sidesteps from the entrance as zayne maneuvers past him, letting himself inside the familiar home, slipping off his shoes at the doorway. caleb shuts the door before whirling around towards the indifferent doctor.

"in her room, where i've been taking good care of her the past couple of days."

caleb's voice is filled with pride as he leads zayne down the hall (not that he didn't know where it was already after so many years), filling the doctor both wild mild irritation and exasperation.

"you say that, yet you're the one who yelled at me to make a home visit to check on her."

caleb scoffs as they both arrive at your door, caleb gently pushing it open and entering with zayne following close behind.

you're sitting up in bed, sipping on some water when the two men from your childhood walk in, causing you to perk up as much as you can in your fatigued state.

caleb approaches the bed first, mattress dipping as he takes back his seat on the edge where he'd been accompanying you before, patting your head as you recap the bottle.

"doctor's here, finally" he mutters the last word but you catch it, causing a pleasant laugh to bubble up, the sound easing both men's concern for you, if even just slightly.

zayne approaches from the other side, assessing your condition from what he can see- immediately noticing your slightly-shivering form despite the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and comforter scrunched in your lap- before reaching a hand out to lay across your forehead to check your temperature.

"how are you feeling?"

his deep voice is soft, especially soothing to you that you know you could drift off easily if he continued speaking.

"i'm okay, really" you peer up at him, throat still slightly scratchy as you're still recovering from the initial soreness from a few days prior. "gege's just overreacting," you tease, reassuring smile making zayne crack a grin.

"i'm not- you're not fine!" caleb insists before turning to zayne.

"she's been sick for almost a week now, a week! that's way too long!"

"you seem to have a mild fever," zayne tells you, drawing his hand back, continuing to assess your physical condition before he responds to the agitated pilot.

"did you forget that, for how little she falls ill, this is usually the standard?"

his soft touches travel down your neck to your shoulders and down your arms, checking for any discomfort as he continues.

"shouldn't you, of all people, know that the best?"

caleb grits his teeth at the doctor's jab as he watches his hands examine you, looking at the way your shallow breaths escape your parted lips as you glance between the two.

you're only listening to their bickering, but you're too tired to think about intervening right now.

"of course i do, but when she's had an ongoing fever the whole time with congestion, and now a cough with headache and body aches when it first started as a sore throat, do you expect me not to worry?" he spits, pointed gaze aimed straight at zayne.

"it hasn't broken at all?" he looks up at you for an answer.

you're about to speak when caleb answers for you.

"no!"

zayne hums, unraveling the stethoscope from his neck, placing the earpieces in place before sliding the cool metal down your shirt, a small apology escaping him as you shudder at the feeling before checking your heartbeat.

"but it hasn't been consistent in temperature, correct?"

"nope."

zayne urges you to take a deep breath.

"its simply an indication that her body is having some difficulty fighting off the illness. since its gradually gotten better, i wouldn't say its something to worry about."

he moves the stethoscope, urging another deep breath from you.

"but-"

"in any case, for how good her immune system is at keeping her healthy, the drawback is that her body is quite vulnerable when sickness comes, so it usually lasts longer."

he moves the metal to your back to check once more, asking for one more deep breath.

"i understand your worry since her condition worsened before improving. but most of the symptoms have subsided, yes?" he's looking at you again when he asks this, and this time, caleb lets you answer.

you nod quickly before responding properly.

"yes! i had a headache when i woke up today, but it went away really quickly. otherwise, my cough has gotten better, and i'm still struggling with congestion," you unconsciously sniffle, driving your point. "i guess i've still been a little tired too? but i'm feeling much better than before!"

satisfied with his findings of everything being normal and reassured by your own words, zayne smiles down at you before withdrawing the stethoscope, turning his gaze to caleb fully once more.

"i thought you knew her better than anyone, why make a fuss about it all of a sudden?"

caleb's eyes narrow at the jab.

he's doing it on purpose.

"because, she-"

your harsh coughs halt their conversation, sleeved arm coming up to cover your mouth as both men's heads snap towards you.

the coughing fit is gone as quickly as it came, and thats when you notice their concerned gazes boring into you.

"don't you think that cough sounds pretty bad, doctor?"

"it's nothing extreme. you're taking medicine for it, yes?"

you nod.

"yeah," caleb pipes up, jabbing a thumb into his chest before continuing. "i've been giving her medicine for her throat, fevers, and even allergy medicine this entire time."

"he made me take so many pills... save me, zayne~" you sulk up at him; he gives a fond look in return.

"hey, it was for your own good!"

"you tried to feed me six different pills at once!"

"maybe because you needed all of them! do you really expect me to believe you would have taken any medicine on your own?"

zayne sighs at the two of you

just like usual. some things never change...

you huff out a breath, pout adorning your face.

"caleb?"

"hm? yeah?" he perks up, eyes glued to you awaiting your next words.

"can you make me some tea?"

"anything in particular?"

"chamomile?"

"sure thing, i'll be right back," he ruffled your hair again, side eyeing zayne as he passes him before he's out the door.

you let out a sigh, and zayne's eyes are locked onto yours.

"sorry to make you come out here, you must be tired," your words are remorseful, feeling guilty for, in a sense, making him work overtime.

"i told caleb i was fine, but he wouldn't listen. he was actually upset with me at first since i didn't tell him i was sick and had to find out himself when he came home and saw me," you share bashfully, thinking back to his worried expression and stern tone.

"well, i can understand him a bit," zayne's eyes drape over your bundled figure. "a certain hunter likes to think they're invincible, and isn't exactly the best at looking over their health."

"hey! i did take medicine the first two days, y'know?"

"did you take them consistently?"

crap, he got you there.

"well..."

"figures."

"you're so mean!" you whine, but the doctor only chuckles.

"well, if you're saying this, then i have no doubt you'll be fully recovered in another couple of days."

at that moment, caleb steps back in with a slightly steaming mug in hand, slowly walking over the the free side of the bed to hand it to you.

"here you are, pipsqueak, just the way you like it!"

"thank youuu," you smile, reaching out to grip the mug with both hands.

"careful, it may still be a little hot."

you nod, allowing the warmth seeping through the mug to warm your hands before taking a small sip.

a little sigh of relief escapes you, and the three of you engage in quiet conversation, neither man wanting to leave your side quite yet despite knowing that you were completely okay.

its later in the evening, your tea long finished, using the last remnants of it to wash down some medicine administered by caleb (who had nudged you before you drifted off, not letting you sleep until you took the medicine for your own good he repeated as you washed them down with the still-warm tea).

after that, it didn't take long for you to doze off to the hushed voices of your two favorite people, breaths evening out as you floated off into the land of dreams.

its silent for awhile after that, two pairs of eyes watching over you when caleb suddenly turns towards zayne.

"so? she's really fine?"

zayne's eyes drift towards the source of the voice.

"yes, so long as she keeps taking her medicine, she'll continue recovering well," he adjusts his glasses before continuing. "and anyway, from the looks of it she just seems to have caught a bad cold. the symptoms can last for a week or so; its really nothing to worry about."

caleb lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

what a relief.

zayne, figuring its about time to go home himself, stands from his spot, checking that he has everything on him when he speaks up again.

"its not the first time she's gotten sick like this. why were you so worried this time?"

caleb thinks for a long moment before settling on his answer.

"seeing her so weak and tired was just so..." he trails off, eyes taking on a distant look in them. "it'd just been awhile. even if i knew she would be fine, it was just.."

zayne nods, understanding crossing his features.

"i know what you mean." he glances over at your peaceful slumbering figure once again. "at least she had you to take care of her. who knows what her condition may be if she were left alone like this?"

caleb clicks his tongue at the thought.

"terrible, that's for sure. she really can't be trusted to take care of herself, especially not when she's sick."

"i'll be on my way now. even though the chances are low, if anything changes, don't hesitate to call me."

"sure," caleb nods, standing from his spot as well as he begins walking zayne to the door.

"thanks for coming over and checking her out."

"its no problem, it puts my own mind at ease as well."

zayne slips on his shoes before speaking up again.

"i'll check back in tomorrow. try not to fuss to much until then."

"ha-ha, whatever you say, doctor zayne."

"and next time, maybe don't yell so loudly through the line. i was momentarily concerned for my eardrums, and it certainly couldn't have been good for her headaches."

caleb feels irritation replacing the gratitude he'd felt just moments ago.

"sure, i'll keep that in mind."

zayne adjusts his sleeves before speaking again.

"though, since you know her best, i'm sure you could figure out what's good for her and what isn't, especially when she's like this."

the faintest smirk curls on the edge of zayne's lips at the growing scowl on caleb's face.

"you-!"

"well then, i'll see you in the morning. goodnight."

zayne's exit is curt as he exits through the door, all too satisfied at the reactions he drew out of caleb.

on the other hand, the deepspace pilot wanted to yell in frustration (though, managed to refrain from doing so at the reminder that you were fast asleep just a few doors down).

instead, only an annoyed groan escapes his throat as he clenches his fists, one singular thought circulating his mind:

that guy was really so annoying!

a/n: almost completely recovered ,this idea came to me after seeing sm posts ab zayne/caleb beef or everyone hoping that their beef would be crazy LOL -

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queenendless · 2 years ago

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😷🤒Sick Day(Adult!SatoSugu x Sick!Fem!Reader)🤒😷

A/N: Yep this is part of that SatoSugu Teacher AU alongside Moving Day and Nights.

Also, announcement. I have smut writing fatigue after just putting out one and I'm down with a cold right now. So that vampire AU gang bang piece is happening next month. I'm so sorry for this yall. Thanks though to everyone who commented on that and helped me decide.

But I will hopefully be posting a JJK Halloween piece to make up for it. A headcannon/ imagined scenario where the JJK cast celebrate Halloween with my ideal fave pairings in couples costumes and such in this what if AU. And yas it gonna be SatoSugu x Fem or GN reader, idk on that part yet.

All credit for JJK and its characters goes to the madman that is Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy!

Your throat feels raw.

Your nose feels stuffy.

And you kept coughing every few minutes.

You should have figured spotting a curse forming from a virus epidemic happening in the hotel across the street would pose a high ass risk of getting infected yourself.

But as a Window, it was your job, as life risking as it was.

The more people inside and around the building got infected, the Grade 4 grew closer to Grade 3. If it kept up, dozens upon hundreds would die.

"Ijichi-san. Disease curse. Transitioning from Grade 4 to Grade 3. Requesting sorcerer help here immediately." You struggled speaking over the phone as you kept coughing, dispatching the address to him, seeing the revolting curse grow in size as its toxic presence spilled, tripping as you tried keeping your distance.

Your head was pounding and you could barely focus as Ijichi-san panicked on his end.

"L/n-san!? L/N-SAN!"

In a moment of ailment, you dropped your phone, causing it to disconnect from the impact.

You were barely able to keep a grip on your phone or walk without faltering as you felt more drained with each passing moment. You blinked a lot as you tried staying alert, stumbling before collapsing against a parked empty vehicle on the street, sliding down to your bum just to rest your aching head against your knees, hugging your legs to your chest.

That curse's smogs began spreading down the streets, into traffic, and nearby occupied establishments.

Believing help wouldn't get here in time through the systematic process, you opted for your wild card, shakily picking up your now cracked screen device.

"Toru. Curse problem. Get here ASAP. Please." Texting the address in your feverish haste, you pressed send before curling in on yourself, welcoming sleep to rest your aching self.

In just under the next few minutes — more like moments — you felt a boom in the cursed energy atmosphere, that curse no longer being sensed. At last, it was done.

The shift from freezing metal to cozy soft fabric stirred you awake a bit. Along with the feel of solid warm arms draped around your shoulders and under your knees. Those big smooth hands squeezing your shoulder and your kneecap had you tugging weakly on the front of that top, pressing your face against your makeshift pillow, struggling to open your eyes as your hearing painted the picture for you in the meantime.

"A majority will spend weeks recuperating. The ones closest to the cause will spend months in the hospital at best. Still though, no casualties. Thank you for the help." High chances it was one of the many medics on site for post cleanup.

"You can thank the young woman here for that. She was the first responder, after all. I'll tend to her recovery myself. Sayonara." You know that voice right away, even when he was muffled, relaxing further in his hold.

"This cold isn't going away anytime soon. Too bad reversed cursed techniques don't make the common cold go away." Your half lidded eyes still had him swooning at how frail and precious you were in his arms.

You murmured, noticing him in his black long sleeved top, matching sweatpants, and face mask with the blindfold. "Blindfolded giant." That's when you realized a face mask was put on you as well, your muffled coughs hitting cloth.

You could already picture him beaming, grinning, as he laughed a bit.

"Correction. Your blindfolded giant, darling~ Now then, let's get you home."

°•○•°•○•°•○•°

Geto typing away on his computer, working on his latest reports.

Gojo straddling his lap, hugging him as he napped against his dear best friend slash hubbie.

The former smiling fondly at the motion before picking up where he left off was their situation before both men's phones began vibrating and ringing.

"Geto-san! L/n-san has reported a disease curse spotting! But she was cut off before I could get further details!"

"She just texted me the location." The sleepiness was wiped away, replaced with firm seriousness, as Gojo started getting off of him to get some shoes on.

"Ijichi-san, do not fret. Satoru will handle the curse." Geto calmly responded over the phone before speaking concerningly to his snowy-haired hubbie. "Toru, bring a face mask in case the affected area reaches where you land post teleport."

Said man smooched his hubbie in kind before slipping on the black face mask to match his current apparel. "Wait up for us, Sugu~"

Seeing you both back, teleporting into your home office, Suguru smooched Satoru the moment he took that face mask right off. Pressing the back of his palm against your forehead to double check for a fever, Suguru's dismay was warranted.

So being there when you awoke from your fever dream tucked in the middle of your guys' giant bed meant Suguru patting your now sweating forehead with a wet rag, you trembling from chills raking your skin followed by feeling warmer the next minute as you coughed into a tissue he handed to you.

"Well dearest, you've got yourself a nasty cold here." Suguru noted with a gray face mask on as well, seated by you on his side of the bed.

"Ah bah." Your raspy spat earned you a cough into your fist before you were offered a filled up water bottle by Satoru who was sitting behind you on his side; blindfold off but face mask back on.

"Welp, I exorcized the curse and brought your cute self back here. Plus I got that report to work on in your precious stead. So you're welcome." He gently ran his fingers through your hair to ease you in whatever way he could.

"Thank you Toru." You slowly sat up and were then handed some cold pills by Suguru to down some water with. "Thank you Sugu."

"Now that we've made our home Ground Zero, you are hereby confined to this room. Drink plenty of fluids. Take your medicine. Get lots of rest. Do you hear me, young lady?" Suguru's smart ass tone made you pout.

"Yes mom." You murmured raspy.

Satoru snorted behind his face mask to which Suguru whacked him in the shoulder across from him with narrowed eyes. "At least Megumi and the twins are living in the dorms now and Tsumiki was able to convince her classmate to stay at her place for a while. Meaning we three have the place to ourselves~"

"Does that mean … I have to sleep by myself?" You whimpered, cracking their resolve. "Neither the Gojo Geto bears, nor the Gojo Geto cats, not even the Gojo Geto giant round plushies can substitute for the real deal." You moped, pointing at said custom made toys lined up on the window seat on the far side of the room.

"Aww, Suguru, how can we deny our lovely sweetheart the company of her valiant handsome knights in the flesh, huh~!?" Satoru dramatized his own cries, muffled though.

Suguru sighed, consigning. "At least one of us should. Who else will be teaching the first years in the meantime?"

"Round robin, then? Last one left standing tends to that noble martyr and gets our dear sweetheart to be their own personal nurse in the end … huh …" That hum and those inquiring eyes could only bode mischief. "I volunteer Suguru to go first!"

"Not gonna happen, Satoru." He immediately denied.

"But to be fed by, bathed by and be doted on by our angel is heaven sent~!" Satoru gushed.

"Which is why you shouldn't be the only one getting that special treatment!" Suguru being jealous at possibly being left out on that.

"Hey!" Your strained shout ends in a coughing fit, curled up in bed, sniffling to which Suguru hands you a big enough tissue to blow your nose in. "I'm dying here."

"Hmm … Yu could fill in." Satoru suggested.

"He is working as a teaching aid part time. And he did say he could help out whenever we needed it." Suguru added.

"Plus Nanamin is on a business trip for the week~ He'll need something to do while waiting for his beloved's return~!" Satoru teased.

"That settles it then." Suguru was smirking behind that mask, you could just tell.

"How lucky you are, darling, to have the strongest duo be your own personal nurses~" Satoru was so smirking his ass off.

"Even though you'll literally get sick of me?" You shyly asked, squeezing your bottle, apprehensive.

"We have strong ass immune systems, Y/n. Comes with over a decade of immense training." Satoru prided on, kissing your flushed cheek.

"If we can risk ourselves in the face of death as sorcerers, this is nothing." Suguru assured, kissing your other flushed cheek. "I'll call Haibara."

"I'll start up a bath for us all. Thank you big ass bathtubs." Satoru clapped to that.

"What do I do?" Even when sick, tilting your head and batting those eyes made the duo smooch your lips at once.

"Just be a good little patient for us, alright, honey?" God that wink of Suguru's left you more hot than usual as he walked off to make that call.

"Besides, being sick with you means being granted a sick leave and getting paid for it! Ah, thank you, my darling sweetheart~!" Satoru did hug you, nuzzle his face in your hair, and left you a wheezing mess.

"Y - You're w - welcome!"

Well, on the bright side, at least you'll all be sick together.

Snuggled in bed, among discarded tissues, wrappers of cough drops, and smooshed in one big embrace of entangled limbs while binging nothing but sitcoms, movies, and anime.

You would eventually get better in a week's time then later tend to your two enamored, affectionate partners and get them back into tip top shape.

But until then, being in their cozy arms, sleeping smack dabbed in between them, that might as well be the key on your quick road to recovery.

The SatoSugu cure, indeed!

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confuzing · 12 days ago

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...So, that All the Shen Siblings Transmigrate AU? I wrote the Qijiu reconciliation in that universe. It's 1800 words long so I'm gonna read more most of it.

Yue Qingyuan woke in the dead of night and found himself unable to move from the neck down. A shadowy figure was leaving his room. He would be more concerned about this if he didn’t recognize the toddler the shadowy figure had left sitting on his chest.

“Shen Meishan,” he greeted her. “It’s nice to see you.”

Meimei giggled at him.

“Clearly your brothers are up to something,” he said. “Do you know what?”

Meimei answered, but she was unfortunately in that stage of babyhood where most of what she said was babbling, and he did not possess her brothers’ talent for interpreting her. He thought he caught the word ‘gege’ but that wasn’t much help.

“I see,” he said. At least his training in diplomacy had taught him what to do when someone was talking nonsense.

Meimei nodded solemnly, then reached out and poked his nose.

“Ding!” she said.

“Oh fascinating,” Yue Qingyuan said. “I didn’t know it did that.”

Meimei giggled again.

It had likely been the eldest Shen who had paralyzed him. Qian Cao doctors could do a lot with their acupuncture needles- though he wouldn’t put it past Shen Yuan to have found a plant or artifact that had the same effect.

He could hear a scuffle coming his way, so he’d find out soon enough.

The door to his room opened and he watched Shen Qingqiu be wrestled into the room by his brothers.

“Shen Qingqiu,” he greeted. He didn’t get a response but that was understandable, Shen Qingqiu was busy.

“Shen Xuan,” he continued his greetings. Technically it was Chen Xuan, but the eldest Shen had stopped protesting the name change months ago.

“Zhangmen-shixiong,” Shen Xuan replied calmly. Like he didn’t have his brother in a headlock, and as if he couldn’t feel Xiao Jiu biting his arm.

“Shen Yuan,” Yue Qingyuan concluded.

His disciple winced but then put on the same serene mask his siblings often wore and said, “Shizun.”

Surprisingly Luo Binghe wasn’t present. Shen Yuan’s ever present shadow was not welcome at whatever this was… that actually made Yue Qingyuan a little nervous.

Shen Yuan deliberately tripped Shen Jiu, allowing Shen Xuan to manhandle him down onto the bed beside Yue Qingyuan.

Meimei giggled at the ‘thump’ they made hitting the bed.

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Shen Jiu snapped at her with less than a quarter of his usual venom.

Shen Jiu was face down on the bed; Shen Xuan seated himself on his back while Shen Yuan sat on his legs. Shen Xuan also pinned Shen Jiu’s wrists.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled at full venom.

“We’re here to ask Qi-ge some questions.” Shen Xuan said.

The ‘Qi-ge’ made his heart freeze. Oh. That’s what this was about.

Xiao Jiu went wild, nearly succeeding in bucking his siblings off him before he seemed to surrender completely.

“He isn’t going to fucking say anything.” Shen Jiu said. “He never fucking does.”

“Well we’re gonna sit here until he does,” Shen Yuan piped up. “We have co-conspirators, you won’t be missed for some time Shizun.”

Ah, that’s where Luo Binghe was, possibly Mu Qingfang was in on this as well. If that was the case he could truly go unmissed for at least a day or so before anyone got suspicious and came looking.

“Now,” Shen Xuan said. “Why didn’t you come back for Shen Jiu like you promised?”

The familiar omnipresent guilt washed over him, but the audience didn’t change his response.

“I am very sorry for what I’ve done,” he said.

Having four Shens glare at him was a new experience- much more oppressive than just one.

Meimei crawled off his chest and went to sit in Shen Yuan’s lap.

“See?” Shen Jiu said. “This is fucking pointless.”

Yue Qingyuan had not met Chen Xuan before he became Shen Xuan. The eldest Shen had always seemed like a calm, level-headed, and sweet man to him. Now he watched the man get quietly furious just as Xiao Jiu did, before his face shifted into the cold calculating look Yue Qingyuan saw most often on Xiao Jiu or Shen Yuan.

Shen Xuan looked down at Shen Jiu. “I’m sorry didi.” He said, and bent to kiss Shen Jiu’s temple.

Shen Jiu couldn’t turn his head more than it was, but he clearly wanted to, squirming to try to get a better look at his older brother. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

Shen Xuan ignored him and locked eyes with Yue Qingyuan.

“He thinks you hate him you know,” Shen Xuan said. “He thinks you never intended to come back for him and that you threw him away like trash. Is he right?”

Yue Qingyuan was thunderstruck, that couldn’t be right- surely Xiao Jiu knew how much he adored him. He couldn’t-

Xiao Jiu let out a stifled sob. Yue Qingyuan tried for the first time since waking to move- but he couldn’t. The other Shen siblings on the other hand moved immediately. Both Shen Jiu’s brothers got off him, Shen Xuan pulling Shen Jiu up into a seated position to hug him. Shen Yuan and Meimei scooting over to hug him from the other side, sandwiching Xiao Jiu in the middle of his siblings. Xiao Jiu hid his face in Shen Yuan’s hair for a moment before looking over at Yue Qingyuan.

“Just say it already,” Shen Jiu said-begged. His eyes were wet. “Just say you hate me so we can stop fucking pretending.”

“Xiao Jiu is my favorite person in the world. I could never hate him.” Yue Qingyuan heard himself say.

Had Xiao Jiu truly thought this the whole time? Was that why he was so angry? Not because he was mad at him for being an idiot, but because he thought Yue Qingyuan was pretending not to hate him?

But of course that was why, he realized. His own agitation made qi surge between himself and Xuan Su on its stand across the room. After all Xiao Jiu had no idea how stupid his Qi-ge had been.

“You left me,” Xiao Jiu snapped. “And you never came back. What was I supposed to think?”

What indeed? What had the expected Xiao Jiu to do? He’d been so young when they parted, and so sensitive to any rejection. Of course he’s thought Yue Qingyuan had abandoned him. He really was tremendously stupid.

“I did come back,” Yue Qingyuan said. Explaining was like ripping his own heart out of his chest, like being alone in those caves again- but he’d endured it once for Xiao Jiu, he would do it again. “I was too late.”

“What?”

“I spent a week digging through the smoldering ruins of Qiu manor before my Shizun came and dragged me back to the sect. I thought you were dead. Seeing you alive at the Immortal Alliance Conference was the best day of my life.”

Xiao Jiu’s eyes were wide as saucers, his whole face a picture of shock.

“Gege let him up,’ he said eventually.

Shen Xuan stopped hugging him just long enough to remove the acupuncture needles from Yue Qingyuan’s neck.

He had the strangest sensation of something crawling all over him for a moment, but he ignored it in favor of sitting up so he could look Xiao Jiu in the eyes.

“Why did you take so long?” he asked.

Yue Qingyuan grimaced, but Xiao Jiu deserved to know.

“Qi-ge did something very foolish,” he said.

“He always does when I’m not there to keep an eye on him.” Xiao Jiu countered. “He’s simply an idiot I fear.”

The affection in those insults was a balm on his soul. He took a deep breath and spilled his guts.

“I was going to come for you as soon as I got my spiritual sword. I trained as hard as I could as fast as I could- but when I went to pull my sword… I thought I needed the best sword, the strongest, to save Xiao Jiu.”

“Xuan Su didn’t pick me, I forced the bond.”

All three Shen brothers gasped. Adorably, a beat later Meimei did as well.

“Can you do that?” Shen Yuan asked.

“Only if you want to literally explode.” Shen Xuan told him.

“How are you alive?” he asked Yue Qingyuan.

“I was a good enough match the sword didn’t immediately kill me- and then my Shizun bound my soul to Xuan Su’s qi. The process kept me alive, but Xuan Su remade my spiritual veins and bones to suit its needs- I was essentially qi deviating the entire time it was happening.”

“How long was that?” Xiao Jiu asked.

“A year. They sealed me in a chamber in the Ling Xi caves so I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“Except yourself!” Xiao Jiu hissed. “The chamber with the bloodstains…”

“Yes.” Yue Qingyuan said, eyes dropping. “I came for you the moment they let me out- but it was too late.”

Warm arms embraced him, he looked up to find Xiao Jiu hugging him, and glaring more.

“You absolute fucking idiot!” he snapped. “Why the fuck would you need a giant fucking sword to come fly me away?”

“This one is lost without his Xiao Jiu.”

“Clearly you half-wit!”

“You never draw your sword,” Shen Xuan said. He was clearly herding the youngest two Shens toward the door.

“When I do it burns through my own life-force.” Yue Qingyuan explained.

Xiao Jiu’s arms tightened around him. If he was lucky they would leave bruises.

“Does Mu Qingfang know?” Shen Xuan asked.

“Before tonight he was the only other person still on this plane besides me who knew.”

Shen Xuan nodded.

“Shen Yuan,” Xiao Jiu said suddenly. “Do not tell that little beast about this.”

Shen Yuan nodded and left, holding Meimei. Shen Xuan was right behind them.

Once they were gone Yue Qingyuan said. “He’s absolutely going to tell Luo Binghe.”

“I know.” Xiao Jiu grumbled. “I’ll threaten the brat into silence later.”

He eyed Yue Qingyuan. “I’m still mad at you,” he said. He had not let go of Yue Qingyuan yet.

“I deserve all the anger you want to give me,” Yue Qingyuan said. “I failed to save you, and then I let you suffer while I wallowed in self pity and shame.”

Xiao Jiu slapped him hard. “And you nearly killed yourself you stupid piece of shit!”

Yue Qingyuan was still stunned from the slap when Xiao Jiu kissed him hard, biting his lip until it bled. He was only just able to kiss back before Xiao Jiu pulled away.

He had Yue Qingyuan’s blood on his teeth as he spoke. “You aren’t allowed to die- do you understand?” He shoved Yue Qingyuan down on to his back and climbed on top of him. “I forbid it!”

“Of course, whatever Xiao Jiu wants.”

Xiao Jiu huffed and bent over him.

“Good,”” he snapped and bit Yue Qingyuan’s mouth again. “Don’t you forget!”

#svsss #shen siblings #all of them #qijiu #SY immediately storms into LBH's bedroom like 'Binghe you aren't gonna believe this!!!!'#this is about a year after they find Meimei #Also fuck past me for making Shen (Chen) Xuan and Shen Yuan's names so close together #It was a funny bit until I had to write about them both at once

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allpiesforourown · 7 months ago

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I'm sure you can tell from your notifications I've binged the entirety of your asshole roommate bingge au today, so here's my contribution

You know the meme of guys watching horror movies with girls so they'll be scared and cling to them? Well Binghe tried that, but Shen Yuan is extremely unphased by horror movies, so it usually ended up with Binghe acting scared so Yuan-ge would cuddle him (good, but he wants it to be the other way around.) Anyway, at some point he figures out that if he finds cool nature films to watch, Shen Yuan will grab onto him to point out cool facts. Basically,

Watching a horror movie:

Shen Yuan: Well that was fucking stupid of them

Binghe: *Exaggerated squeak of fear* Gege, I'm scared!

Binghe, internally: This is not going to work

Watching a documentary on the natural adaptations of various wild cats:

Shen Yuan, grabbing Binghe's arm: Oh, I love these! Did you know that margays can actually reverse their ankles 180 degrees to go up and down trees more easily? Isn't that cool? See- they've got a video. Gods, that looks so weird. But isn't it fascinating? Tropical birds actually evolved something similar-

Binghe, focusing on not sobbing because gege is looking at him with such a delighted expression and he's holding onto his arm and his eyes are so pretty and: Mhm

SO TRUE ... but also while they're watching horror movies and binghe is moping about yuan ge not being scared, shen yuan would be the one to go "binghe is being so quiet... I'll hold him, he must be terrified" and binghe is having the time of his life

#asshole roommate bingge au #svsss #bingyuan

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tojiscrack · 5 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏 (pt.1) (pt.2)

notes: i’ve received such lovely responses from the first smau that i thought it deserved a part 2 :) above i've linked pt.1 for those who haven't already checked that out <3

tw: light ageism (nothing too bad dw)

summary: he has the opportunity to show you the old lady he’d encountered before

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: mc here is as wild as any other mc that i’ve written, but with a little more vengeful behaviour (literally look who she’s been paired with, she has to be ready for anything LMAO)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumbir no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

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dontcallpanic · 2 months ago

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The absolutely incredible @teencopandthesourwolf who wrote something so deeply amazing I'm still recovering, tagged me to do the WIP Wednesday. Diolch yn fawr iawn cariad!

So happy Thursday, here's something small from the post apocalypse au where Stiles has a radio show and Derek realizes he's in love with the idiot while road tripping across America with his dad. Or something like that.

I do have funnies to share at some point but you can have some drama for a change instead. This is how Derek meets the Sheriff.

-------

"Where is my son?"

Before Derek can so much as blink the man - the Sheriff - is in his face, the long barrel of a pistol jammed beneath his jawbone.

"I won't ask again," the man says deadly quiet before he sucks in a deep breath and roars into Derek's face. "Where is my son?"

Derek flinches back instinctively but he can't go far, the wall is at his back and the gun is shaking where it's digging into his throat. Despite this Derek still manages to stand tall, pushing back as a wild, feral grin pulls at his lips.

"I don't know where your fucking son is," he growls out, pitching his voice low and menacing. "But if you don't get your gun out of my face, I guarantee you'll be in no position to find him."

And he means it, every word. He would even welcome it. He can feel the bloodlust singing beneath his skin, the ache to his jaw and the itching in his teeth. He wants to feel the flesh give beneath his bite. The satisfaction of the kill.

Give me a reason, he thinks - begs. Give me one fucking reason.

The sheriff's wild, searching eyes rake across his face, looking for any sign of deceit or weakness where there is none to find. He reeks of alcohol and desperation and the stench assaults Dereks senses, forcing themselves into his awareness like a desert storm. In this moment, the Sheriff is not a man who can be reasoned with and Derek feels his claws itching at his fingernails, his snarl growing deadly. He should rip him apart. He wants to rip him apart and put him out of his misery, but something deep inside him makes him hesitate, recognising with bitter familiarity, the recklessness of a man who has nothing left to loose but hope.

The second he feels the Sheriff loosen his grip on his shirt, he shoves the man roughly away, knocking the pistol out of his face with a snarl.

The gunshot echoes across the street as a bullet slams into the stone beside his head, but Derek is already clear, holding up one hand to stop the response, even as he hears the tell tale snick of at least five people thumbing the safety off their weapons.

The Sheriff staggers, intoxication making him unsteady on his feet but the hand that levels the pistol at him holds unnervingly steady.

"Tell me what you know," he demands and his voice is surprisingly firm and resolute. There's no tremor. If it wasn't for his heightened senses, Derek would be doubting his initial assessment.

All around, he can feel the watchful eyes pressing in on them. The whole town seems to be watching now. The chances of the Sheriff leaving here alive, should he choose to shoot Derek, are non existent.

"I don't know shit," Derek spits, taking a step forward, fingers reaching to curl around the gun at his hip. It's grounding and familiar and it gives him the illusion of still being human.

"Bullshit," the Sheriff spits back, jerking his pistol to the side to add emphasis to his words. "That's his dog."

-------

As always the biggest thanks go to @greyhavenisback (look!! It's Muttley!)

And then Very gentle no pressure whatsoever tags to @violetfairydust @patolemus @gege-wondering-around @novemberhush

Sorry If you've already been tagged!

#Tag games #WIP Wednesday #WIP whenever #?#Sterek #Eventually #derek hale #teen wolf #Nice things from nice people #Panic writing #Let me know if it doesn't make sense!#My brain stopped working halfway through editing #I've never been so glad for predictive text

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silver-cyn · 1 month ago

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Soft Kisses Against Skin You can also read it on A03 here.

“Gege! It’s good to see you again,” Hua Cheng says. He holds out a hand to Xie Lian who eagerly takes it, returning squeeze for gentle squeeze. “You as well, San Lang,” Xie Lian says mirroring Hua Cheng's affectionate smile. Even after all this time, he still feels the leap in his heart and the ripples of warmth in his stomach at just the sight of Hua Cheng.

He's flustered already, and so hurries after Hua Cheng when he gestures for them to sit on the divan facing the open window. Normally, Xie Lian would pause to admire the garden in full bloom, and the beautiful sculpture carved by Hua Cheng's own hands, but today he's even more distracted than usual by his gracious host and so spares it not even a glance.

“Tea?” Hua Cheng asks.

“Please,” Xie Lian replies, taking a seat first. His eyes follow Hua Cheng’s every move. The flutter of red robes as he takes a seat. The effortless grace as he pours Xie Lian’s tea. The bold and wild look of his hair framing his face and falling down his back. A few strands slip over his shoulder and without thinking, Xie Lian reaches out and tucks them back.

Hua Cheng makes a small sound, and Xie Lian quickly pulls back.

“I’m sorry. I wasn't think—”

“Gege can touch. Anytime he wants,” Hua Cheng interrupts, his dark eye looking straight at Xie Lian. There’s a rough hitch in his voice that sends a familiar heated shudder down Xie Lian’s back. His lips keep moving, and Xie Lian finds himself briefly distracted by the tone and cadence of Hua Cheng’s voice.

Images pop into his mind. Running his hand through Hua Cheng’s hair. Twining their fingers together. Pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, the space just below his eyes, circling the eyepatch that covers that dear one kept secret from the rest of the world. Fingers skimming beneath the open collar of his shirt to –

“Gege…” Hua Cheng murmurs but it's enough to break Xie Lian's blatant staring. He makes a sheepish sound as he meets Hua Cheng's twinkling eye and takes the offered tea from his outstretched hands.

“Are you well?” Hua Cheng presses again.

“Oh, yes, yes,” Xie Lian assures with a small laugh. Tension eases from Hua Cheng’s frame and he leans back against the divan.

“Then, are you here to help one of the others?” Hua Cheng asks politely, referring to those under his employment.

Xie Lian was well known and well-respected among Hua Cheng's staff. To the few alphas there were, Xie Lian was the exceptionally skilled omega they could safely spar against without fear of accidental injuries to his person. Indeed, they usually left his presence pleasantly exhausted and mildly annoyed at having been unable to land a single blow on the graceful omega. And for the omegas who requested it, during their heat, he provided a friendly shoulder of support and care for those who wanted to avoid the often-complicated ties that came with mating an alpha.

“No, not this time. I hoped…to have some assistance with my upcoming heat." Xie Lian scratches his cheek, trying to distract himself from the telltale warmth of his cheeks.

Hua Cheng’s body jerks in surprise, and the tea spills a few drops over his hand. He doesn’t notice, but Xie Lian does.

“San Lang,” He cries, fluidly setting both their cups of tea aside to take Hua Cheng’s hand in his own. He carefully looks at it, sees the skin is only barely red and feels relief. Still, he blows air over it as much to soothe himself as the skin.

“Gege, it’s all right,” Hua Cheng says, and his voice is hoarse with some emotion Xie Lian doesn’t dare to name.

Xie Lian makes a small sound of protest, and Hua Cheng chuckles and shakes his head, his eye gleaming with fondness. He easily flips their hands so his envelope Xie Lian’s and presses a soft kiss to Xie Lian’s knuckles.

It warms him from the inside out, but Hua Cheng freezes, releasing Xie Lian’s hands as if scalded.

“Apologies, gege! That was—”

“San Lang can touch. Any time he wants,” Xie Lian declares softly. He only briefly manages to maintain eye contact before he blushes and looks away, completely missing the brief slip of visible yearning on Hua Cheng's face.

“Gege continues to surprise me in the best ways,” Hua Cheng murmurs, drawing Xie Lian’s eyes back to him.

“You’re being insincere,” Xie Lian says, huffing out a breath that curves into an easy smile.

“Never with you,” Hua Cheng returns, and the truth of that lovingly embraces Xie Lian. Hua Cheng shifts his body, angling it even more towards Xie Lian.

“Back to your request though. Of course, you can spend your heat here. I must be clear on what you need though. Are you looking for non-sexual comfort through your heat? Good toys to help yourself? Or are you looking to go the more traditional route?” Hua Cheng questions. His fingers catch the red pearl at the end of the single braid amongst the curtain fall of his hair; carelessly rubs it back and forth.

Xie Lian’s eyes follow Hua Cheng's movements, swallowing hard at how such simple actions could be so…distracting.

“The last one,” Xie Lian replies, clearing his throat to regain his focus.

“Do you have someone in mind already?” Hua Cheng thankfully abandons the red pearl to tap his fingers gently on the divan in the space between them. To Xie Lian's dismay, he also drops his gaze.

“Yes,” Xie Lian answers, allowing his hand to follow after Hua Cheng's, and settle on the divan.

The tapping pauses briefly before it continues.

“And which of my employees is lucky enough to help gege out?” He asks and though his concern is genuine there's something slightly off about his tone that instinctively has Xie Lian seeking to reassure.

“It’s not any of them, San Lang. It’s you," Xie Lian states simply. His fingers reach out to brush invitingly against Hua Cheng’s long and slender ones.

Hua Cheng’s single eye jumps back to meet his gaze, and Xie Lian basks in his attention; lets it curl around him and unconsciously moves closer to him.

“Gege is serious about this,” Hua Cheng says, and it's a question in every way but words. Even so, he reaches out to return Xie Lian's light touch with one of his own. The tension in the air thrums like a live wire, enough to raise the hair on Xie Lian’s neck.

“I am. I would never joke about this,” Xie Lian quietly affirms.

Hua Cheng nods his agreement, and Xie Lian hums encouragingly when Hua Cheng caresses the skin between Xie Lian’s thumb and forefinger.

"You're the person I trust most. You’re the person I…there’s no one else I want to do this with,” Xie Lian continues, each word heavy with certainty.

“Gege, more than anything I want to, but you should know I’m not an alpha,” Hua Cheng says softly. He doesn't pull back though, instead he wistfully slides his finger across Xie Lian's knuckles.

For so long with Hua Cheng, Xie Lian has been careful not to tip the scales between friendship and something more, so afraid of losing the most important person to him.

Yet now, with his heart and body brimming in their call for Hua Cheng, Xie Lian finds that he no longer wants to be careful. If there's even a whisper of a chance...

Abruptly, Xie Lian catches Hua Cheng’s hand to fully twine their fingers together.

“That doesn't matter. The only thing that matters to me is that it's you, San Lang," Xie Lian finally says. Hua Cheng looks stunned, and Xie Lian's courage stumbles over the small silence that follows.

“Only if San Lang wants to, of course. Only if San Lang feels…but if not, that's fine! I would still like to spend my heat here. Comfortably so." He looks away, starts to loosen his hold, but pauses when Hua Cheng tightens his own.

“Gege.”

Xie Lian looks up and all his thoughts flee when Hua Cheng brings Xie Lian’s hand to his mouth, presses a butterfly kiss to the center of his palm and then to the pulse at his wrist.

“Can it be that gege is the only one unaware of where he stands with me?” Hua Cheng whispers, placing Xie Lian’s hand over his heart. He draws Xie Lian closer, and now they're close enough for Xie Lian’s breath to flutter Hua Cheng’s lashes, and for him to see the pulse at Hua Cheng's neck beating fast.

Xie Lian's nose is suddenly flooded with Hua Cheng’s scent. It's deliciously sweet, like wine from amber grapes; intoxicating in a way that has Xie Lian tilting his head to chase after it.

“San Lang, something like this must be made clear so as to leave no room for— hmmphf!” Hua Cheng cuts him off with a kiss. For Xie Lian, there’s no surrender, only him opening in every way to welcome the taste of Hua Cheng's lips, the press of his body, and the grip of his hands. Xie Lian's own scent of citrus and cinnamon rises to greet Hua Cheng’s even as he clutches the front of Hua Cheng's robes to keep him close.

Xie Lian's stomach does a delicious swoop when Hua Cheng simultaneously hikes up his robes and bodily lifts him so that Xie Lian is straddling him. With their bodies this close, it's unmistakably clear how much they both want this.

Hua Cheng's hands are everywhere and Xie Lian, senses delightfully overwhelmed, takes pleasure in the heat that flowers and bursts from every point of contact between them. It seeps through his skin, quickens his heart, and blurs his thoughts.

And when Hua Cheng's hands find his hair, one hand gliding through the unbound strands while the other smoothly unravels the small bun atop his head and tugs, Xie Lian makes a sound in a range even he didn't know he could reach.

“Gege, was that too much?" Hua Cheng asks, pulling back slightly.

“Not at all," Xie Lian answers on a sigh, holding Hua Cheng's gaze. Then his eyes briefly lose focus as his thoughts turn inward.

"Maybe pull a little harder next time," he murmurs, playing absentmindedly with the strands of his hair. Xie Lian feels the full body flush that goes through him this time, and his eyes fly up in time to see Hua Cheng's eyebrows shoot up.

"What I mean to say is…you see your hands are very lovely, well, not just your hands, your everything actually, and—San Lang, stop laughing!"

But Xie Lian's laughing too. Laughing and kissing Hua Cheng's dear, beloved face.

"Whatever gege wants, I'm happy to provide," Hua Cheng says with a grin.

"Oh? Then does San Lang want to give me a demonstration of what to expect during my heat?" Xie Lian's half teasing and half serious, testing the waters, trying to see if — Hua Cheng stills and then stands up so quickly that it tilts Xie Lian's body forward, sealing the small gap between them and making them both groan at the heated friction of his movements. "Gege, you really will be the death of me," Hua Cheng says hoarsely. He pauses for a moment to catch his breath, then swoops in for another kiss that leaves Xie Lian breathless. Then he effortlessly shifts Xie Lian's body for a more secure hold and, walking very quickly, heads to the bedroom.

#xie lian #hua cheng #hualian #tgcf #my fanfiction #first a/b/o fic #talk about omega heats #but make it hualian and add in a love confession

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bliss-in-the-void · 2 years ago

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Gege Akutami, You Do Not Understand Gojo Satoru, and Here is Why

I was reading this article to help me cope with the traumatic events of Chapter 236 when a certain portion didn’t sit right with me.

Long post, click to read the full analysis:

(this is probably the most important post I've made so far)

Now, we all know that Gege doesn’t like Gojo. They don’t make it a secret in the slightest. Which is fine in itself, as an author you are 100% within your right to hate a character you created, and I respect that—it gives dimension to the dynamic of a story.

What I don’t care for is the reasons Akutami lists for their dislike of Gojo.

Reason #1 as stated in the above blurb of the article: Gojo doesn’t have depth.

To me, this is a wild statement to make as an author, but especially as the one who wrote Gojo. Where does he lack depth? Genuine question.

I believe he is an incredibly complex character.

He is the first sorcerer in centuries to be born with the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques, which automatically sets up so many nuances. Coupled with the fact that Akutami has stated that he grew up spoiled, that right there should tell you some things about why he is the way he is. He has a bit of an inflated ego when it comes to his powers. And why wouldn’t he? From the time he was born, the people around him treated him like some sort of God. How else was he supposed to grow up? He’s told his whole life he possesses unparalleled power, and he’s going to believe that.

Even still, it really isn’t as unchecked as Akutami seems to believe it is. Despite his distaste for authority, Gojo still reports to the higher ups, goes on missions, exorcizes curses, and works collaboratively with his fellow sorcerers. If he was really the giant egomaniac Akutami argues that he is, he’d say ‘to hell with authority’ and run off to do whatever he wants like Yuki. I mean, COME ON, this guy is the most powerful modern sorcerer and he still attended all four years of high school. He could have easily never attended—who was going to stop him?

He has a peculiar sense of humor that can get inappropriately timed in certain moments, but it’s obvious that it’s a deflection and a coping mechanism for the horrors of a sorcerer’s reality. He doesn’t just joke about death and dying because he doesn’t care. He cares too much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he suppresses and laughs it off. Moments like this are seen after Suguru dies in JJK 0 when he was clearly crying afterward, but had to put on a cheerful facade for Yuuta and the other students.

He is a very good teacher. It’s hard for a naturally gifted prodigy to effectively teach things which come automatically to them, and somehow he finds creative ways to do it. Teaching Yuuji to control cursed energy by using one of Yaga’s dolls and giving him a movie marathon? One of Yuuji’s favorite hobbies? Genius and so considerate for Yuuji. He’d just been thrown into the sorcerer world, learning all these new things, and Gojo decided to introduce a foreign concept to him through something familiar and comfortable to him. That is amazing, and the mark of a very kind, understanding teacher. He’s also really patient with his students. Yes, he gives them tough love sometimes by throwing them into missions, but it really is to make them strong. How else will they grow if they aren’t put under pressure?

His motivation for being a teacher is very selfless. He himself has stated that he isn’t suited to be a teacher, but that he has a dream to raise a generation of strong allies to prevent isolation from occurring like what had happened to Suguru. He felt guilty about growing apart from him, didn’t see the warning signs before he snapped, and regrets not being there for him more. His entire purpose now is dedicated to making sure the new wave of sorcerers have a tightly-knit network so that no one ends up alone and on a dark path like Suguru.

He constantly sticks his neck out for the helpless even when it’s far from his benefit. He paid off the Zenin clan to save Megumi, the child of the man who ruined his high school years and nearly killed him. He then raised him. He threatened the higher ups to keep Yuuta alive, and then did it again for Yuuji. He does this to preserve their youth, because his own was taken away from him. His whole life he’d been controlled by the higher ups and people around him because of who he is in the sorcerer world, so by waving his own status in front of authority to hold them back from his students, he acts as a sort of shield to take as many burdens off of their shoulders as he can so that they can remain carefree. As much as he can within his power.

With all of that being said, I really don’t understand where Akutami is coming from with lack of depth, but another argument I say to that statement is: well, you’re the author, give him the depth you think he’s missing. (Personally, I believe he’s one of the best-written characters in any anime I’ve seen).

Reason #2 is that according to Akutami, he doesn’t have a likable personality.

What about his personality is unlikable?

He is cocky, but not to the point where he stops caring about others, not to the point where he never considers how other people feel or how his actions affect other people, and not to the point where he never feels guilt and remorse about his shortcomings. Like I said, he lives his life trying to prevent his past from repeating itself, to save the fates of others.

I really don’t get it. In JJK 0, after Nitta gives her report on the shopping mall, Gojo thanks her and praises her. Would a cocky asshole do that? No. If you wanted to characterize him as unlikable, you could have made him dismiss her, or ignore her.

He makes pop culture references, he has endearing flaws like not being good at drawing, being a lightweight drinker, and overdoing it on the sweets. He’s funny, he’s kind, he’s considerate…he is a very likable character.

Honestly, the self-absorption he displays when he’s fighting is probably a result of his upbringing. Being told you have so much power you have so much power you have so much power over and over again instills this belief that yes, he’s needed by Jujutsu Society to fight curses as a weapon. As. A. Weapon. The Six Eyes & Limitless user is a formidable weapon, but what about Satoru Gojo, the person? The only time he feels useful is when he’s fighting curses. That’s where he gets his self-worth. We can see that expressed in this panel, from Chapter 236:

In the second half of Gojo’s second text bubble, he says, “でもどこかで人としてというより生き物としての線引きがあったのかな”.

This translates to: “But I wonder if somewhere there was a line drawn between being a creature rather than a person.”

Rather than having drew the line himself, being constantly treated like the strongest, being handed over the difficult missions, being relied on so heavily pushed him away from other people. It distorted the perception everyone had of him, and it distorted the perception he had of himself. He also believed he could never lose because he let his human side fade into the background. The world didn't need human Satoru Gojo, they needed sorcerer Satoru Gojo, the one who could bend rules to his will with his might, the one who could exorcise any curse and save the day no matter how bad things got. Why would he remain human when that part of him was treated as non-existent? The only person who did treat him as a person with weaknesses and flaws has been dead for eleven years. Of course that voice of reason is going to fizzle out.

How can you possibly vilify him for that? It would be a disservice to everything he has had to endure his entire life.

Reason #3 and the last point I want to touch on is when the article says, "Akutami believes that much of this adoration is based solely on his striking appearance, overshadowing his more abrasive personality traits."

Okay. Where to start?

Honestly, and I know this is probably not Akutami's intention, but that comes off as so condescending. It's so presumptuous. It's as if to say we're all going "ooh look at pretty man, pretty man do no wrong because too pretty" mindlessly with dilated pupils and drool coming out of our mouths. Uh. No.

Yes, Satoru is a good-looking character, but no, that is very far from why we like him so much as a character, and it's also very far from why he's so popular. Aside from all of the points I've made above explaining why he's so universally loved, I'll make another one that isn't superficial and tired.

He's so relatable.

This is a man so incredibly traumatized by his high school years that he is mentally and emotionally unable to move on. Suguru Geto was his very best friend, and for reasons he took too long to understand, chose to abandon their friendship for his own goals. For anyone who has grown apart from a best friend, this hits so hard.

Because of his upbringing it was hard to become close to anyone. But somehow, Suguru was able to break past his walls, and for that, he became entirely too dependent on him. This is common for anyone who finds it hard to make friends and get close to others. Once someone is allowed in, you cling so hard to them and imagine them being there for your entire life. So, when they leave, you take it entirely too personally.

Everyone has a right to live their own lives, and as we see with the divergence of Suguru and Satoru, sometimes our paths aren't leading to the same place. It's not personal. But Satoru took it personal, and that's so beautifully human. When you lose a best friend who was important to you, you think "I like being around this person, they put me at ease in a way no one else does", and you assume they feel the same way about you. So when they leave and show you that no, they didn't feel the same, it hurts. It's almost as if they're saying "I actually do think you're unlovable like everyone else, that's why no one likes you, you are too much."

Someone you thought was safe, isn't anymore.

That is such a relatable thing to watch a character go through! Especially someone as awe-inspiring and charismatic as Gojo! As an audience, we think, "he's just like me!" and we like him for it.

So, as I stated in the title, Gege Akutami, you don't understand Satoru Gojo at all. I commend you for writing such an amazing, iconic, universally loved character, but I will never understand nor respect the superficial way in which you perceive him.

#i know this is very extra #so don't attack me #but i do make some good points and i really just needed to get it out there #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujukai #jjk spoilers #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo analysis #gojo #gege akutami #jjk analysis

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marscantread7 · 1 year ago

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Hualian a/b/o (Hua Cheng can't control his scent around Xie Lian)

Everytime you read about omegaverse, you read about the omegas who can't control their scents and go crazy when their alpha is nearby. Anytime they get a whiff of their alpha's scent, they feel calm and relaxed or go a little crazy. Alphas are always the calm and collected ones, the only time you ever really see them going crazy over an omega's scent is when an omega's in heat.

Thinking of alpha Hua Cheng who can't control his scent around omega Xie Lian. Xie Lian's the calm and collected one until Hua Cheng's in rut and his cherry scent is all over the place.

Xie Lian thinks it's cute. How Hua Cheng's scent is always under control as he looks down on the residents of Ghost City. He's always calm and composed, carrying the room with his domineering presence, but as soon as Xie Lian is nearby his scent goes a little haywire. The scent of cherries turns overly sweet as Hua Cheng tries to hide his excitement.

"San Lang, this scent..." Xie Lian will mumble.

"Oh! Gege I am so sorry! It gets a little out of control sometimes."

"You smell so sweet San Lang."

And Hua Cheng's scent will intensify by 100, his cheeks flaming. He'll thank Xie Lian profusely.

"It's a bit embarrassing because Gege's scent is always neutral. It still smells good! Gege always smells good!"

And Xie Lian will just thank Hua Cheng saying it was part of his training as crown prince to keep his scent under control, and it just stuck all these years.

Xie Lian loves the way Hua Cheng's scent will sour when he gets jealous annoyed with other people for bothering them. Xie Lian will be cooking a meal for them, and Fu Yao and Nan Feng will make a random appearance, making Hua Cheng's cherry scent go from overly sweet to sour in a matter of seconds.

"Ugh! What the hell are you cooking? It smells rancid." And the whole time it's just Hua Cheng's scent.

That comment causes Hua Cheng's scent to sour even more, and he'll growl out, "If you hate it so bad, maybe you should leave."

And Fu Yao will groan and be like, "What is /he/ doing here?"

"If you have a problem with me being here, again, maybe you should leave. I was here first."

Nan Feng will cut in with a, "You're always with the Crown Prince. Should we be worried about your intentions with him? You are an alpha after all."

Hua Cheng will growl and stand up, and Xie Lian will release his flowery scent, placing a hand on Hua Cheng's stomach, holding him back.

"Nan Feng, that was unnecessary. San Lang has no strange intentions with me. We are friends and he enjoys hanging around me. If you guys are here to cause trouble with San Lang you can leave." And Hua Cheng's cherry scent will turn sickly sweet as he preens under Xie Lian's attention, leaning into his hand. It's at that moment that Fu Yao and Nan Feng realize the "rancid" smell was actually Hua Cheng's scent and they decide to take their leave immediately.

What kind of alpha just lets their scent leak out like that? Especially around an omega? Especially around the crown prince???

Xie Lian especially loves Hua Cheng's scent during his ruts. The smell of ripe cherries, ready to be picked, or in Hua Cheng's case, ready to breed. His scent drives Xie Lian wild.

The craziest thing about Hua Cheng is that he's a submissive little sweetheart during his ruts. Crying and begging his Gege to take control. Xie Lian will ride Hua Cheng, choking him, high off his scent. Hua Cheng will mount Xie Lian, crying and begging him to, "Gege, gege, please! Gege let me knot you! Please, please, please Gege!" And sometimes Hua Cheng will let Xie Lian mount him.

"Useless alpha. Letting an omega fuck you stupid during your rut. How pathetic. What would everyone say if they saw us?" Xie Lian will yank Hua Cheng back by his hair, pressing his lips to Hua Cheng's ear. "Their cold, ruthless Ghost King. Their feared alpha, crying on an omega's cock. Not just any omega either. A useless trash collecting God. What do you think they'd say? They'd call you a pathetic. Little. Bitch." And each word would be punctuated with a harsh thrust, Hua Cheng crying out. Hua Cheng's knot will form, and he'll cry out, "Knot, knot, knot!" And Xie Lian will just smack his ass, his other hand reaching out and just squeezing Hua Cheng's knot tightly.

"Stupid alpha. Knotting the air." He'll laugh meanly and squeeze the knot tighter, and Hua Cheng will just let out a weak moan as he releases all over the bed, the feeling of him squeezing around Xie Lian tipping him over the edge, causing Xie Lian to fill him.

Once Hua Cheng's rut ends and Xie Lian is down from his high, he'll apologize profusely for his behavior, saying he didn't know what came over him and he didn't mean any of what he said.

"You're not useless, pathetic, or stupid. San Lang, you are beautiful and smart, and the most perfect alpha ever." And Hua Cheng will blush, his cherry scent going all sweet and he'll reply with a, "It's okay Gege, I liked it a lot. You can be as mean as you want to me." And for a second Xie Lian's scent will slip up smelling like fresh flowers, before he gets it under control again. Hua Cheng feels very happy that day. He got his precious gege to let his guard slip and let his emotions show through his scent, and he won't ever forget this day.

Hua Cheng always gets embarrassed that he can't really control his scent around his gege sometimes, especially when they're around the residents of the Ghost City or other heavenly officials, but Xie Lian is always quick to reassure him that he's fine. "Those other people don't matter and I love your scent." So Hua Cheng says fuck it to the world and lets his scent go crazy around his precious gege. Xie Lian doesn't care, so why should he?

#heaven official's blessing #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #xie lian #hua cheng #alpha hua cheng #omega xie lian #hualian #switch xie lian #switch Hua Cheng #marshall cant write #top xie lian #bottom hua cheng #top hua cheng #bottom xie lian #fu yao #nan feng #san lang

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sugary-daydreams3 · 5 months ago

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Grief trapped in blue sunglass lens [Gojo's funeral fanfiction]

Summary: Now that the students and Jujutsu associates healed their physical wounds, they have no choice but to face the elephant in the room. Satoru Gojo is gone and everyone deals with the void in their own way before the funeral begins.

Word count: 6.4k

Series: Lost chapters I wish Gege wrote about

A/N: Made this because me and many other people didn't get to see a Gojo funeral nor the character's feelings on him being gone. This is one of my biggest gripes with the ending of JJK. I had no problems with Gojo dying but I feel that how he was handled physically post Yujo fight left much to be desired.

So I decided to write about (mostly) everyone's coping with Gojo's death and a funeral service for him. Forgive me if the funeral may seem culturally inaccurate. Hopefully, no characters come across as too OOC, but some of these characters are hard to get right when they don't have much room to shine their personality in canon.

Glossy nails trail the white engraved letters and numbers above the matte black. She forgot to give back his credit card. The last time she used it was Hallo--

Hall--

October 31st.

October.

That fucking month with that fucking day. Like an alarm that keeps ringing and a clock that won’t move forward fused together.

The month of horror, trick or treating, and bloody exploding eyeballs. The month were kids face real horror, not those stupid dumb skeletons, werewolves, and vampires. The kind of horror that will make someone either sample death or have it as their final meal.

31st should have ended with her rocking the clothes she picked up eight hours before that fight. Gojo should have been eating endless candy and telling them “Job well done!” in that stupid annoying comforting voice of his. Not boxed away and expecting his students to come out on top in the chilly wild.

She didn’t even see him die. She didn’t get to say her final words to him that just would have amounted to...

“If you die your card is mine forever. So die, okay?”

She couldn’t even say her fucked up, dark, cruel joke that was a mask of “Please don’t fucking die”.

Why couldn’t I move?

Why wasn’t I awake?

Why wasn’t I present?

Who wants to hear recollections of what happened between October 31st and December 24th? She wanted to help out with the Culling Games. She wanted to see the great battle of Sukuna vs. Gojo. She wanted to finally meet this Yuta kid and see everyone’s reaction to him coming back. She wanted to save Megumi when Yuji couldn’t. Picking up the pieces of Yuji’s mistakes. Being that deciding factor that could have prevented so much bullshit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why wasn’t I here?

Her only eye stings, blinking two tears to fall on the muted black card. The heartache trails down to the 2754 of the four-part row of digits. Nobara quivers her lips as she tries to swallow down pills of regrets, exclusion, and despondency.

Residing dust forces a couple of coughs out of Inumaki. He waves off the floating particles and goes for the next book off Gojo sensei’s shelve. He grabs the spine of the book and slowly pulls it out.

He gave up being curious on the subject matter of these books once he cleared the first row. Just of bunch of thick, mind-numbing pieces on Jujutsu, Cursed Energy, or Autobiographies on retired sorcerers.

Turning from the back cover, in red bold letters his purple eyes reads: Learning Sign Language for your students. Written by... sounds like a random Japanese woman with some fancy doctor degree.

Narrow eyes widen as confusing experiences lingering in his memory begin to click and warp into sense.

On the third day of his first year, he remembers cringing at Gojo’s attempt to speak random rice ball ingredients to him. That was his “way” of trying to connect with him. Offended, Inumaki wrote him off and ignored any potential conversation to have with him at that point.

Around early June, he walked up to see Gojo silently greeting him with fluid movements of his hands and fingers. As fluent as someone who been signing JSL for several years. Was that the reason he stopped trying to conversate with him three weeks prior?

Taken back, Inumaki slowly signed back, leading to having their first full conversation ever. It ended with Gojo patting him on the shoulder and Inumaki turning to watch his goofy sensei walk off in a cheerful mood.

Inumaki caresses the book and notices the personal sticky notes poking out of many pages. He looks behind him to see Panda pre-occupied. Inumaki sets the book in his bag, setting it aside to read through later. He shakes his head and stares at the half empty shelve for a long moment before continuing his duty.

Panda was busy distracting himself with Satoru’s doodads instead of effectively cleaning out his office. Throw in the fact that it was a journey to simply carry things that would have taken him a few seconds to put away had he been in his original big body. But the funeral starts in a few hours so he has to stop monkeying around soon.

Panda frowned. There was barely any time to “monkey around” ever since Satoru died. It seems like when he died, he took the fun and security with him. Did most of his friends grow to be so powerful from the battle on Shinjuku? Sure, they’re practically monsters at this point.

But for a long time, Satoru’s level of strength gave them breathing room to take off the sorcerer mask sometimes. Now that he’s gone, there was no room to be a kid anymore. His friends are teenagers cursed with adult responsibilities; the rest of their adolescence stripped away like a bloody band aid.

He’s a panda so he doesn’t really understand that feeling. However, he sees it with the forced smiles he’s greeted one second with frowns pulling them down moments after. Desensitized responses they all show in public contrasted with the quiet weeping he hears going on late night campus walks. It will always give him emotional whiplash.

Life after Satoru was a canvas board of still grey with overwhelming dark blue surrounding it.

Panda opens a brown box to see a bunch of stuffing peeking out. Dropping down, he turns the box around to see in black marker: Spare stuffing for Panda.

Panda releases a deep sigh. He feels his stitches ache all over.

Loose blue strains spills over the wholesome photo of her and Gojo that day. A day where her biggest concern was not looking stupid in front of the cute, strong, funny teacher at the Tokyo campus of Jujutsu High. A day where her classmates bickered with coal still in their eyes. A day when Mai was cranky and alive. When Mechamaru...

Miwa shuts her eyes as her tears soaks her eyelashes. Blurry eyes open to take in the photo that seem like centuries ago, when it was only since September. Gojo’s peace sign and shared chipper smiles fill the holes in Miwa’s heart for a moment. Her thumbs zoom in on Gojo and lingers over his tall figure dominating most of the selfie.

A small smile forms behind the isolated blues. “Gojo...”

Kusakabe groans, rubbing the back of his head whenever his mind wanders to that blue eyed trouble maker. There were days he enjoyed the consistent stillness without that loudmouth breaking it. Then there were others where the silence was drowning; his cheery, obnoxious voice completely void to lift up everyone’s spirits when needed. Today was one of those days.

Twirling his toothpick, he remembers the countless times Gojo annoyed the hell out of him with his comments and pranks. There wasn't a day where he wouldn’t drag one of the Jujutsu faculty and staff in his shenanigans. So bad that one-time Gojo went too far and it ended with Kusakabe wishing he was dead.

Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

Kusakabe looks up at the passing clouds trailing through the blue. For such a day for Jujutsu High, the sky didn’t reflect the collective feeling. The man bats his eyes as the ambient nature lures him into a still mind.

“Kusakabe!? Are we serious right now!?” One of the higher ups barked.

Gojo shakes his head, “Is there ever a day you guys don’t bitch about--”

“I agree that sending me would be a horrible idea.” Kusakabe interrupted. Gojo turns to see Kusakabe wearing a “Yes sir. No sir.” attitude. He knew he was lying.

Kusakabe has been looking forward to a sorcerer mission like this ever since he met him. A mission where all you do is investigate and gather information, no risking your life, no fighting at all really. More like a trip out on Japan’s quiet grassy countryside with a side quest of being an undercover sorcerer representing Jujutsu High.

Gojo steps forward. “Kusakabe is our best grade 1 sorcerer. He’s no fighter and a nice guy for the most part. He would be better to talk to lame country folk than I am...”

The elders remain silent. Kusakabe can feel the tension rising. “Gojo, you don’t have to--”

“I got too much other shit going on to do some boring mission in the countryside. If you send me instead of him then you guys are more senile than I thought.”

“Gojo!” Kusakabe quickly turned to the many shoji screens hiding the higher up’s bodies. The fact that he had no idea how they were reacting put his worry in overdrive.

One of the elders sighs, “We don’t feel like arguing with you on this. If you truly think Kusakabe of all people would fit this mission then so be it. But if he fails this, he will suffer the consequences. His mistakes are not on us.”

“When is it ever on you?” Gojo bounced back.

“Dismissed.” The other elder said.

Once they left the room, Gojo wraps his arms around Kusakabe shoulders and bellowed out his carefree laugh. “Don’t forget to bring me back some gifts. You owe me afterall.”

Kusakabe lowers his head away from the blue and moving white to face the cracked, washed solid grey.

His heart didn’t ache for Gojo. Tears didn’t trail down for him either. But the crumbs of memories made him appreciate the little explosive highlights he gave his boring, uneventful life. Like those popping candies that felt like fireworks in your mouth.

Yeah, Gojo was those popping rock candies.

Hakari holds the stack of yen as the various fights go on the multiple T.V. screens. Licking his thumb, he counts through the overwhelming amounts of money from his lucky bets. Although he’s been hanging around Jujutsu High more as of recent, lately everything has been about Gojo, his death and preparing for his funeral. All of the mope and serious mumbo jumbo was getting to Hakari, so he retreated to his fight club.

“When does it start?” Kirara asked, her pink french tips gently caressing his ashy blonde thick hair.

Hakari shrugs, “Donno. Seems like everyone is too depressed to talk n’ shit.”

Banding up the yen, Hakari montages the times Gojo left him feeling the fever he often seeks out of many.

Training him so hard he puked the rest of that day. Pushing him to go after Kirara and teasing him about his crush. Giving him shitty relationship advice. That one time they did that silly pose where they flashed their teeth then flexed their muscles for the camera. Cheating Gojo out of thousands of yen over a wrong move during Blackjack.

Hakari traces the numbers of the yen, smirking over the fun times that crazy man with the blindfold gave him.

Two streaks of damp wet are noticed when the wind sway past Ijichi’s jawline. Another dam of woe threatens to burst until he quickly wipes his sore undereye. He doesn’t even know why he’s getting so emotional over someone who and still--

Not sill. Damnit brain, get with the program.

Someone who used to bully him relentlessly ever since they were kids up until just a few weeks ago. To him, Gojo was nothing but...

Why are you still here? Need me to punch you to get the message?

You failed you’re driving test again? You can’t even do that? Go join a local circus at this point.

Shoko is out of your league, man. You don’t even have the balls to talk to her. How can you expect her to like you.

Ijichi, don’t piss me off.

A guy like that doesn’t deserve his tears. Nope, not at all...

The only person I trust to catch me if I fall is me and, um, Ijichi I think.

Wanna go out for some hot cocoa? It’s freezing today.

Well, well, well. You finally took Shoko out for dinner, huh? I guess the world is ending soon. So, how did it go?

Look, Ijichi may be a wet doormat but he’ll get things done for us and the students. C’mon guys, give him more credit than that.

Ijichi huffs a stuttered breath. Nope. Nope. No. No. No--

You’re the man I trust the most. That’s the only reason I need.

Ijichi breaks down. A new coat of tears staining his dry skin. His wrung heart soaked again with a grief too complex to explain.

Cigarette smoke brush past Shoko’s dry, dull brown hair. No tears had nor will shed for her childhood friend. She wasn’t a crier, even when she was little. When her father died a long time ago, not one tear dropped.

Instead, there was heavy rocks that magically weighed in her chest. A weight too heavy for her slim body to carry. A weight she dismisses publicly but can’t ignore in private. So, in true Shoko fashion, she grabs a pack of ciggies and breaks her 11th vow to never smoke again. Looking out on the campus field, her eyes strain with stress and lack of sleep. Her heavy heart was to blame this time.

“Can’t believe I’m being peer pressured right now.” Gojo says in a jokingly nervous tone.

Shoko lifts up the cigarette, unlit and waiting. “I’m tired of being “The Smoker Chick” of our school. It’s always so lonely smoking by myself.”

“Regardless if I smoke this or not, you’ll always be “The Smoker Chick”.”

“Gojo please.”

Gojo sighs and contemplates the nicotine stick itching to ruin someone’s lungs. He was far from being a goody too shoes but smoking wasn’t his thing.

“You’ll look so cool doing it. It’ll just be between us.” Shoko persisted.

Gojo rolled his eyes and snatched the cig from her. He placed it between his perfect, straight whites and waited a moment before turning to Shoko. Shoko stood in disbelief until Gojo snapped his fingers in front of her.

“Well hurry up and light it!” Shoko quickly digs in her pocket and lights the white end. It takes a few seconds for the cigarette to burn before smoke waves out of the tip. Gojo inhales then blows out a line of smoke effortlessly. Shoko gasps, “How did you not cough?”

“Duh! Look who you’re talking to.”

“Oh...yeah. Right.”

The juxtaposition of Gojo’s divine-like aura and angelic appearance partaking in the trashy, commoner act of smoking was a sight to behold. Almost like he gave a middle finger to his reputation as the strongest sorcerer and decided to be a normal dude for once. Shoko remembers judging Gojo’s bougie attitude during freshman year. She saw his snobbish nature a mile away before he even introduced himself to the class. One thing about Gojo though, he never failed to surprise her with his willingness to bring himself down from heaven.

Shoko is dazed by Gojo puffing out a few quick smokes before she is presented a hit.

“This shit tastes awful. How do you smoke these every thirty minutes?” Gojo barfed his tongue out.

Shoko giggles and breathes in the loud smoke that always hugs her brain. “Helps me stay numb to the bad stuff in the world.”

Although that was Gojo’s first and last time ever smoking, their budding friendship springs tenfold.

Shoko was back at that same spot they wasted their youth a decade and so ago. Only there was no arrogant, annoying but funny classmate to secretly cast her judgement on anymore. What only remains is a cigarette and a woman who had an uneventful life outside of being a sidekick to Gojo’s adventures.

She takes another hit, her tongue recoils at the cigarette taste. Now she gets what he meant back then.

The drizzling rain show no signs of giving nature a break from the drab, cold atmosphere. Megumi lays against his cushioned but firm mattress, his brain refusing to move his body. Tears quietly drip down to damp the grey sheets, adding to the collection of wet dots on his bed. The air condition overpowered the pitter-patter behind the window. The dull sound clearing his head to reflect his whirlwind called life these past couple months.

Countless memories punched his mind. There was so many foggy, forgettable memories of Gojo growing up. His attempt to give them meaning and higher resolution gave him a slight headache.

First his sister then--

Gojo.

He saw it while being a few feet away; Gojo’s blood forming small puddles, leaving his body with his life tagging along. The tired whisper of “My bad, Megumi.” a few moments before his eyes went still. He couldn’t even respond due to that curse going on about some dumb speech after almost getting both of them killed.

Sukuna.

Heat overwhelmed his body as soon as the name rung. He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Red and blue hatred evolves into purple flames the longer it sits, burns, and melds. Never has he felt so much rage off a name alone.

Blood on his hands without the purpose and maliciousness to back it up. Sukuna was gone but the damage will never fade away. It’s here to overstay it’s welcome and haunt him forever.

“Good riddance.” Maki lets the intrusive thoughts travel to whispers.

Alone in the tidy bathroom, she struggles to create grief over someone that just annoyed her most of the time. The only one she believes deserved her grief was her sister, Mai.

Don’t get her wrong, she respected the hell out of Gojo’s strength. But the only solid memories she has of him is sending her favorite junky snacks whenever it was her time of the month and excused her from class that week.

Other than that, he was like a gnat that wouldn’t get out of your face. Loud for no reason. Failed to read the room. Teased her about Yuta, even during the time he went to Africa. Pestering her about dumb school shit. Yeah, that’s the Gojo she knows. Not this revisionist history almost everyone on campus is crafting for him now that the bastard is gone gone.

Yuta and Gojo had a closer relationship than others students, which unfortunately, makes him stricken with the depressing “Gojo is gone” epidemic too. But compared to him and the Jujutsu High students and staff, he actually has good reason to grieve.

It’s just too overwhelming to deal with for more than an hour. She had to get a breather from seeing someone she cares about so defeated emotionally. She seen Yuta cry before but not to this extent, not this long either.

Another round of sobs scolds her indifference to Gojo as they breakthrough the thick bathroom door. Maki looks down and moves her toes against the maroon bathroom rug to build back her patience and tolerance. Letting out a short breath, she pushes herself off the sink and keeps her stoic disposition.

A blank, emotionally collected expression that means well beneath the surface.

Yuta cries drag out as he lays on the floor. Maki shifts when she places a palm against his back, not sure how to handle his anguish and piercing sobs.

Thankfully, Yuta’s dorm was positioned to be isolated at the end of the hall. The other male student's dorms are spaced out from each other so he didn’t have any direct neighbors. But still, his mourning was loud enough to hear muffles across his front door.

“Yuta.” Maki said.

She didn’t know what to say exactly. She, like many other Zenins, weren’t the best when it came to nurturing. Even though she feels nothing about Gojo dying, she feels everything seeing her best friend so ...devastated.

Yuta looks up at her for a long moment, tears trailing by the second, lips quivering, throat tight with words he can no longer say to his sensei. He hugs her waist and cries into her chest.

“I used him, Maki. He’s gone and the first thing I did was use him. It should have been--”

“Stop. Don’t finish that. It shouldn’t have been anyone else instead. He did what he had to do for us to win.” Maki comforted. Yuta shakes his head, unable to accept logical reasoning.

“I-I-I...” He sucks in his breath after every attempt to speak. "I didn’t even get to say--”

Yuta hurls, his mouth seconds away from bursting open. Maki quickly goes for the bucket and puts it under his head. He pukes for the third time today, projecting out yesterday's lunch and dinner that he ate too little of. Maki sighs and pats his back to get him to vomit it all out. Ever since he returned back to his original body, Yuta has been puking whenever he thinks about the most fucked-up stunt he ever pulled.

Once Yuta was done, he sobs tamed down to a string of lingering cries. He didn’t bother to change his shirt or wipe the corners of his mouth. Maki grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the small bits of vomit around his mouth. She heads back into the bathroom to clean out the half-filled blue bucket yet again.

Looking up, he sees a framed picture of him and Gojo during his time in Africa. Gojo had him in a headlock whilst making him laugh about something he hates that he can’t remember. Yuta heart swells, the picture clearly being taken off guard by Miguel. Another wave of sorrow drowns him the longer he stares at Gojo in his white dress shirt, sunglasses, alive and well...

Yuta face scrunches, a fresh sting of tears falling down. He lays down on the cold floor, allowing the grief to lure him to sleep.

Yuji rubs over his face, a stubborn migraine pinching his thoughts. Snot leaking to tease the tip of his tongue. Eyes in desperate need of a bottle of eyedrops to make up for the tiny streams it released the past few hours. His mind was active but his body was lazy, lying on his bed through the whole morning. But he had to get this eulogy done, if nothing else.

“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled...whether you were a man, woman, or child. He’d... He’d... He-- dammit!”

He turns on his stomach and picks up the paper again. He reads over the line again, then two more times to write it on his memory.

“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.”

Again.

“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Yuji groans.

“Don’t say hell, that might not fly well.” He scolded himself.

Yuji sets the paper on his nightstand so his brain can have a break. He read over his eulogy so many times that his mind is starting to slip with the constructed presentation he went over since last night. It doesn’t help that throughout this practicing, he’s been crying whenever he gets lost in thought about Gojo-sensei. Maybe he needs to cool down a bit.

On the edge of his window sits one of Gojo’s many blindfolds. Yuji reaches over with minimal effort and caress the fabric. Black cotton comforts his fingertips while Yuji gives this simple thing a soft gaze. The very first thing he noticed about that strange looking man on that life changing night.

Scenes of warm and fun premiere from his memory bank, each starring Gojo sensei. Smiles to laughter with jokes, ease, and good food in between.

Sensei steals a fry from Nobara’s--

Sliced open. Blood dripping down white baggy pants and black combat slippers. Torso on the ground. Harsh ice blue still yet soft. Live and unskippable. Live with no rewinds. Sukuna’s joy celebrated in the wrong body. No more rough ruffles on the head. No more boring lessons elevated by high-energy humor and multiple tangents of his glory days.

Yuji winces and attempts to rub out the migraine and horrible memories intruding the good. There is a knock on the door. “You’re not naked are you?” Nobara voice is heard from behind the door.

Yuji shakes his head as if Nobara could see. “No.”

Nobara walks in, remnants of rain dripping from her raincoat. She had a blank face, her usual energy turned down a few notches. “Hey.”

Yuji barely lifts up a wave, still smoothing out his nerves. “Hi.”

“So everyone is either busy or depressed so you’re my last hope around here.” Nobara confessed. Yuji lifted up the eulogy, “Can’t. Too busy.”

Nobara sucks her teeth then observes Yuji’s face. “You look like you’re more in the too depressed camp than the too busy one.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Nobara walks over and grabs the eulogy. Yuji lays back down, “Since you’re here, I need to clarify one last thing for my speech. Did sensei buy you those tampon things or those purple diapers?”

Nobara stops reading and shoots him a look. “Why are you broadcasting my period for the whole Jujutsu High to hear?”

“It’s supposed to be one of the many things Gojo did for us as students. I couldn’t think of anything else, cut me some slack.”

Nobara sighs, “He used to get me pain meds and a bunch of tampons whenever my cramps would go into overdrive. And it’s called pads, not purple diapers.”

Yuji nodded and formed a curve of a smile. “Thanks, Kugisaki.”

“I could go and hang out with some girls I know from other schools but it looks like the rain is getting worse. What time is the funeral anyway?”

“It’s in four hours, around two I think.”

Nobara nodded, “Guess I’ll just go back to my dorm and sulk like everyone else. See you later.” She gets off to leave. “Oh, save me a seat too.”

Yuji nodded with a frown, not having enough optimism left to give fake smiles. “Sure, see you.”

Alone again, Yuji picks up the worn white sheet with creases and wrinkles. Headache tamed, he decides to recite again. You can never be too polished.

“Gojo-sensei was a...”

Todo sheds single strings of tears while many games of ping pong against Gojo replays in his mind. Besides Mei Mei, Gojo was his common partner in his favorite sport. Now that he’s gone, he had no one to slam “cheating” allegations to in an intense game during the humid, long summer afternoons.

Ui Ui sniffles as he looks down, avoiding the blunt reality of the casket up ahead. He wasn’t the biggest acquaintance of Gojo but a few moments of the past built a friendly nature between them. His briberies of fried bananas to get direct access to Mei Mei. Being a one-man audience (he slept through his blindfold) for spoken word poetry he wrote about his sister when no one else bothered to hear. Gojo never failed to match his childish energy when other adults or big kids were “too busy” to entertain him. The boy’s quiet sniffles prompted a head rub from his older sibling.

The pointy ends of Mei Mei’s red nails pierce through her left palm. Her right palm comforts the juvenile emotions of her baby brother. Her face remains calm but blue fire bursts in her heart.

1.5 Million yen. All that rich fuck had to do is pay me 1.5 million yen back and what does he do? Fuck around and die. Hmph! He probably died to cheap his way out of his debt. Damn you Satoru Gojo. Damn him.

Ino stood with his ski-mask firm against his chest, looking forward with respect. Gojo was more like an older brother than a co-worker. Despite the pain he feels, he refuses to look away from the body.

Momo stands next to Miwa, people watching the many guests standing in line to pay their personal respects to the body. As soon as she came, she made sure to grab the nearest seat and keep her head down. Dead bodies always freaked her out. People always assumed she be fine with that kind of stuff since she gives “witchy” vibes but no way. It was the way the body just sat there, all sense of spark or fire vanished. Also, that silly fear that a dead body will raise and walk towards her. God, she hopes they close the casket soon.

Kirara hugs on to Hakari’s arm as she quietly weeps to herself. Hakari wasn’t the “comforting” type but all she needs from him was his arm and shoulder for support. During the time it was her vs. the conservative Jujutsu World when she decided to transition, Gojo was one of the few who had her back. She has his support from the moment she began dressing feminine all the way to the moment she began going by Kirara. It wasn’t a problem for Gojo to call her by her true name right away since he thought her dead name was forgettable as hell.

Sure, Gojo wasn’t perfect and had his moments where his views were a bit dated, but he was willing to own up to his mistakes and learn for the better. She’ll never forget the stereotypical girly shit he would buy her because he didn’t know her personal taste that well, not that she even knew at the time either. Corny gifts and unconditional support are why her mascara and eyeliner were messy all around her under eye.

Most attendees dressed in purple while others sulked in black. Ages from teen to end of the road mingled together within a pot of grief, visible respect, and reservation. Some felt internal relief that the bastard was gone. Some cried harder than they would if their actual father died.

Gojo lied still in a polished classic black casket, wearing a blank emotion that he would hate everyone to see. His cut, pieced back by Shoko, was barely noticeable. If you weren’t given the details of his death, you’d probably would question how he died. The line to view his body was beginning to reach its end, preparing everyone to mentally checkout for an hour and a half.

A collected Megumi stared at Gojo in a distracted haze. It was stupid, but he felt like Gojo was playing some sick prank and he’s going to pop out and yell some stupid shit any second now. The longer he stares at the body’s lack of movement, the confirmation rings hollow in his mind. Thankfully Nobara and Yuji kept to themselves, because he’s not in the mood to make idle small talk to take their mind off the obvious.

Yuta’s sorrow could be heard faintly throughout the large quiet space but not loud enough to distract from the ceremony. His tears took all of the moisture from his face, leaving him paler than usual. Messy black hair clashed with his neat tux that took forever to fit him in. It was a miracle for Maki to get him in that, let alone bring him here.

It was a tough sight to see as Yuta was now regarded as the strongest sorcerer of the upcoming generation. Yuta usually had a friendly, shy demeanor around his peers while being focused and stoic during battle. It was rare to see such a rock morph into glass, his pieces laid for the whole institution to see.

Yuta could care less, the repercussions of his public image being in an awkward, pitiful state wasn’t even a thought in the thick of his pain. He could repair that with time and his rapid growing reputation. This is the last time he’ll ever see Gojo-sensei and his heart can’t take it.

Throughout most of the service, Yuji idly stares at Gojo-sensei’s memorial card. A portrait of him wearing a bright, goofy smile placed above the December 7th, 1989 - December 25th, 2018 felt like visual whiplash. Yet, he kept staring at it until a microphoned call of his name lifts his head up.

“Itadori-kun, are you still going to read your eulogy for us today?” Ijichi directs, slightly confused of Yuji’s zoned out state.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just...” Yuji grabs the piece of paper from Nobara’s lap and scoots through the aisle. He walks up to the podium, feeling stares and invisible opinions hover over his back. He gently grabs the mic from Ijichi and sets his eulogy across his face.

Looking up, the stares feel more intense as the rows and rows of straight-faces set social anxiety in his stomach. It was weird, he usually had no problem speaking publicly to an audience, he was a social butterfly after all. Funerals love throwing everyone’s vibe off, even a generally confident one like his, he assumes.

“Um, hi guys—hi everyone.”

He quickly goes over the first line to trigger his trained memory to make the speech sound fluent and genuine. He prays to whoever is listening to not let his mind go blank at a time like this.

“Gojo sensei was a goofball.”

The silence screams for a moment as the opening line registers in everyone’s minds. A few chuckle, most keep their solemn unimpressed looks, while others are not even on this planet. Yuji clears his throat.

“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled you whether you were a man, woman, or child. Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you, only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Many students laughed at the last comment. Yuji looks up and chuckles along, a confidence block stacked.

“He wasn’t a teacher who sugar-coated things, his words were more salt-coated. It stings from being so blunt, but it was needed in order for you to have more flavor.” Yuji takes a quick scan and sees that more people are in tuned with his words. Second block stacked.

“Growing up, I only had my grandfather for family. So while I kinda knew what it was like to have a dad, I spent a good portion of my life taking care of him during his last years so I forgot what it felt like. Gojo reminded me of that feeling.”

“He gave life advice outside of teaching. He would take us out for ice cream after missions. One time, he bought those weird tampon things and sea salt caramel ice cream for Nobara during her...y’know.” Nobara gives him a look after he shoots a nervous chuckle her way.

“He would walk Megumi’s dogs on Saturday mornings. He’d crack a joke in sign that only Inumaki-senpai would understand. He was tough on me, Hakari-senpai, and Okkotsu-senpai during training because he wanted us to take advantage of the potential we couldn’t see. He was...”

Yuji looks up to see Yuta staring at him with teary but curious eyes, desperate to know what he’s about to lay on the crowd next. Yuji directs a small, sympathetic smile at him then looks down.

“He was our constant entertainment during the long, boring hours of our jobs. He unlocked the laughter and ease that we often hid to condition ourselves so we could endure the next mission. He made hell feel like home. He was our Gojo-sensei when the world just saw him as Gojo Satoru.”

Tears don’t hold back on some folks faces. What they expected to be a generic but appropriate eulogy turned out to be an off-beat, heartfelt, kinda corny eulogy written by a dude who loved his teacher. A rare case of a dude who isn’t clever with words evoking more emotions out of a crowd more than any writer ever could.

“I’m sure some of you struggle to move forward with this loss. Some of you may simply be here to pay respects and move on with their lives preferably without sensei. Or you may be like me, someone just going through the motions and may not know what to do, say, think, or feel. But Gojo-sensei is gone and all we can do is reflect on the echos of his existence.”

Yuji lets out a deep breath, satisfied to have gotten through his eulogy, the weight off his shoulders. His eyes flickers to see many nodding at his last statement. He scans through his last sentence and nods to himself to bring it home.

“Thank you, Gojo-sensei, for being the goofball with the blindfold and thank you all for listening.” Everyone except the elders clapped for Yuji, moved by his honest words and pure approach. Yuji didn’t register the applause nor Ijichi’s transition to the next segment since his heart was pounding against his left chest.

There was another wrinkle added to the eulogy when he goes to sits back down. He stares at his knees to contemplate his social triumph. Nobara looks at him and pats his upper back while Megumi simply gives him a blank look, jailing his “Good job.”. Yuji breathes deep through his nose and gives himself little nods, back in his own world to process those past few minutes.

The rest of the service goes smoothly, time moving quicker due to Yuji black flashing through the seemingly unbreakable ice. After the main service, many students and staff agreed to meet at the school yard where the funeral bonfire repast will be held.

While Gojo was being cremated, the bonfire turned out to be a lively celebration of life after so much grief wrung at the service. Snow trinkled down amongst the light conversations, coping dark humor, taste bud-rising food and drinks, and tear stains. Taking a break entertaining his peers, Yuji looked up to admire the floating ice. His irises went up and down, low right and high left, no different from when he saw snow as a kid. Laughter and smiles were behind Yuji, but all he can feel was the snow nurturing the child he locked away.

Ashes leave out of the hands of many, gliding above the flowers revived by spring. Cherry blossom petals dance with Gojo in the gentle wind. The early days of April was always Gojo’s favorite time of the year, it was only fitting that his departure was during its peak.

The new year of Jujutsu High begins without the blindfolded goofball to kick it off with overwhelming enthusiasm and junior high-level jokes. Second years, third years, and even the students that graduated are moving forward after months of mental detours. Now, there was a fresh set of first years oblivious to the horrors and traumas that awaits them. It’s a pity they won’t have that funny man in the sunglasses to help them endure their next twelve months of hell.

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