#I in real life like a normal human man I kiss him every day I don’t blame u

[endlessdreamworld]

God, I finally caught up on the HSR story and I'm so down bad for this man, this traumatized guy, my poor little meow meow.

So here's some yan! Aventurine X gn! reader headcanons that have been rotting inside my brain for the past few days. Bark bark bark rate up soon please haha!!

In the early stages of your relationship, his behavior matches his superficial self, the shell he shows everyone. One of his first gifts to you would be a credit card attached to his personal bank account. 'Don't ask! Just spend.' He'd get a hit of endorphins every single time he sees a charge coming through from you. He knows it's you because he named the profile attached to that card with some corny pet name with a slew of emojis beside it, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on the screen of his phone.

It doesn't take long for him to be utterly obsessed with you. How could he not? You're just so... everything! His everything. It's at this stage, the mask slips off. Material gifts are no longer enough, and the gifts he gives you are pieces of himself. He'll overrule whatever pet name you gave him in favor of honey -- a reference to his heritage.

And speaking of heritage, he's prepared quite the gift for your one year anniversary. Once the sun had long set on a sinfully indulgent all-day date, and after some desperate and incredibly needy sex when the two of you are tangled up in a knot of your sweat and burning feelings, he'll give you his present. Kakavasha, he'd mutter into the sensitive skin on the side of your neck mirroring his commodity code. It's one of the few things he owns that truly matter to him, and he can only hope you'll accept his humble gift.

He's needy, so very very needy in general, about everything, always, in every single way. Pathetically so. He can't hold your hand like a normal person, your fingers must be laced. Kissing? There's rarely a moment when you're not being kissed, and he's generous with the sheer variety he provides you with. Sometimes it's little soft sweet kisses that are more like whispers against your flesh. Other times, he'll kiss you on the hand or face only to never pull away as if he's moving into the real estate on your bare skin wherever he can find it.

And after a particularly horrible day, he'll return home without greeting you in his usual cheerful way. You'll immediately know something is up, even more so when he puts you into a vice grip, kissing you in such a way where it's like he's trying to suck the air out of your lungs. It's as if he believes you can baptize him with your spit and turn him into something worthy of walking around other human beings, a luxury he can never afford himself. On days like this, he feels so utterly unworthy of the life he's taken from the people who have been unfortunate enough to cross paths with him, one stolen day at a time. Of course, he's shameless enough to steal from you of all people -- the sweet little giving thing that you are.

He dreams about working up the nerve, or maybe stooping so low as to ask for your hand in marriage. Whichever comes first. It's something he would have thought a lot about up until that point. He's got more money than he could ever spend in his lifetime, even if one of his hobbies was lighting huge stacks of credits on fire just for fun. With that in mind, any gem no matter how priceless would be a bauble in comparison to what you deserve for putting up with him. Of course he could carve off a piece of his cornerstone, a piece of him, and give you a fragment of God to decorate your finger. But if life on Sigonia IV taught him anything, it's how quickly your most precious belongings can be taken.

So naturally, there's only one thing he could think of that would be more valuable than that, only one thing comes to mind that can't be taken. The idea came to him in passing, an idea that's quite literally staring him in the face.

He's tried getting rid of his commodity code in the past, but even with all of his money, there's nothing that can make it go away without leaving some sort of mark. It was just easier to accept it and it slowly faded into the background over time.

So what would be more valuable than a piece of him, a piece of God? Why, eternity of course, something truly priceless. It would only be proper to get your wedding band's tattooed. You'd even be considerate enough to encourage him to pick an Avgin pattern.

While the idea of a ring as a symbol of your bond is nice, a ring is an object. Objects can be stolen -- or worse, taken off. Countless times were the things he held dearest taken from him. Although those days are long gone, and even though he's a gambling man, he wasn't about to take any chances. Not now. Not with this.

Having your promise to love one another until death do you part sealed onto your skin would give him tremendous comfort. If anyone wanted to take this away from him, the symbol of his vow to you, they'd have to peel it off of his cold, dead body. But first, they'd have to manage to kill him, of course.

Aventurine is hard to get a read on, which is just how he likes it. He's been many thing: a scoundrel, a villain, a confidante, a friend, a rival, a whipping post, a beggar, a tool, a whore, a hound, a pawn, a con artist, and a killer; all things he wouldn't hesitate to become again if the situation demands it. It's in his nature to adapt to what he needs to do, and who he needs to become. But no matter how much of a shapeshifter he pretends to be, the core of his being is unchanging and inviolable, for better or worse.

He's still that scared, lucky, little shivering Avgin boy no matter how hard he tries to play dress up. He needs you to find Kakavasha underneath all of the masks and bullshit he hides behind.

Every day he bets on you to find him, the real him, and love him. The wager? Just the usual -- his life.

[sunsets-and-phantoms]

the way the BioWare fanbases try to moralise their blorbos and fave romances is so fucking funny to me. like I’m not reading your essay on why I should have romanced Kaidan or why liking Anders makes you a better real life activist I do not care babes

also if *someone making a post about how they think your normal human man in the alien game is boring* is the biggest problem of your day then I’d like to live your life

(that’s not to say you can’t have feelings about it or reply to said posts, I just do think that if other people’s opinions on fictional men really do ruin a day for you and make you feel that bad, you need to examine that and find ways to deal with it bc that’s not healthy or a nice way to experience fandom)

[rottenomelet]

yandere jjk thoughts

warning:: nsfw! i’m eighteen and you should be too! hints of kidnapping, non-con, and coercion. nothing is ever really explicitly stated but - still.

a/n: there’s no real rhyme or reason behind this - winter is just my favorite time to snuggle up and read about crazy ppl. also i wrote this in lowercase originally so u see a spot i missed, no u didnt. u can leave requests for different characters if u wanna

Gojo Satoru

In no world could I ever imagine Gojo Satoru treating you like a real human being.

He is the strongest. There is no one who could destroy him. He can see all. And the issue isn’t just that he’s the best, it’s that he’s been told that since the day he opened his bright eyes. He has a big ego and it’s justified because there is no one better than him.

And sure he’ll indulge you. He'll laugh at your jokes and console you when you cry. But in the back of his mind, in every kiss to your forehead, in every smile, there will always be a domineering aspect. Because he knows that you are insignificant in the grand scheme of the world. you are only important because he deemed you worth something.

You’re not quite a toy or a pet to him. You’re more like - an indoor plant to him. Something that needs nurturing from his caring hands, watering and sunlight granted to you by him. You adapt and grow according to his needs and his conditions. But at the same time, you are to be cherished. never handled too roughly, case you begin to wilt. You don’t have to do much but sit and be nurtured and be pretty while he gives you whatever he deems necessary for your survival.

It fascinates him, really, how simple your little life is. How much you don’t know and never will know because as a flower, all you need to understand is that water and sunlight and love are given to you before you’ll even realize that you need it.

But you still have a job to be pretty and sometimes that’s sitting on the bed, still, as he observes you or bouncing on his cock. It just depends on the day.

Geto Suguru

Suguru is a calm man, a quiet man. He makes decisions based on logic. He is not exactly one for emotional outbursts, and even at his angriest, he rarely raises his voice.

But you.

A little non-sorcerer that can’t even see curses somehow made him look twice. Little unimportant you constantly runs through his mind. What you’re doing, what you’ve eaten, what places you’ve gone to. Who you’ve talked to, who your friends are. Your hobbies, your interests. Your lips and your eyes and that special something between your legs.

Just thinking about you, even innocently, makes him harden. It’s uncomfortable, it’s infuriating, it’s maddening.

He thought, surely someone in your family was a sorcerer, a powerful one at that. But no, your family is normal. You are, genetically, as average as they come.

He doesn’t treat you softly at first, doesn’t have a mind to. You’re a filthy little nothing, after all. When he fucks, he fucks without care. Suguru treats you like a doll, not made of porcelain but made of cloth, one he can throw around and still be in decent condition. He keeps a hand pressed to your mouth, to keep your voice down. A blindfold around your eyes so he doesn’t have to look into them. Your hands are bound behind your back so you don't touch him even by accident. Flat on your stomach, unable to see or feel or say anything is how you find yourself every time. He doesn’t even come inside of you, the only thing you’re grateful for.

It’s scary, how roughly he treats you. But it’s downright terrifying when he begins to lay softer hands upon you, begins to kiss instead of bite, caress instead of pinch.

Nanami Kento

He is a very traditional and stern man.

You are, silly, to him. stumbling and bumping and in general, unsure of yourself and what to do. But he sees potential. Even when you’ve tripped over thin air or broken something by accident, there’s a certain grace to your movements. A grace he wants to harvest and invest in.

And while he wants to give you direction, he also doesn’t have the patience or time to teach you like he wants. So, it’s best to ‘learn on the job’ when it comes to Kento.

Learn how to cook his favorite meals and bake the sweets he loves just right. When he’s okay with speaking and when he needs quiet. Remembering to kiss him goodbye every morning and remove his coat for him every night.

Learn how to suck his cock right - which vein is most sensitive, when to suckle and gag and slurp, what noises to make, and remember to always always swallow. He hates messes after all.

Learn his favorite positions. The lingerie sets he like best. How loudly he wants you to be. Accept his cum in your tummy with a smile.

It’s not hard - please him and you will be rewarded. Rewarded with pleasure, with time outside, with gentle hands.

And if you stumble or forget, he will easily remind you of your job.

Mahito

You’re his personal entertainment. You’re an experiment.

Mahito is incredibly laid-back, even lazy to an extent. He lets you roam and explore and fall. He doesn’t care what you do as long as you stay within the four walls he’s placed you in.

It's hard to understand him. For a curse, he’s always laughing, finding almost child-like joy in the most odd things. Whether that’s watching an animal documentary or wondering if a human’s neck can extend like the turtles on TV.

One thing you do know is that he likes games and he likes playing with you. The only problem is you don’t when the game starts and ends, the rules or even if you’re playing right. Oftentimes, you find yourself playing a game that you don’t know the rules of and Mahito has named himself the gamekeeper.

He usually starts by asking a question. Something simple like “What time did you wake up?” or “What did you eat today?”. You find out the hard way that no matter what you say, you’re always wrong.

Say you woke up at ten? Then you’ll find yourself pressing into the mattress, drooling on your pillow as he drills you, punishing you for waking so late in the day. You had a slice of cake earlier? Then don’t be surprised when you’re in the kitchen licking icing off his cock as punishment for an unhealthy lunch.

Itadori Yuuji

He's the jock that gave you a chance. That made you feel special and pretty and popular.

He's sweet. He gives you his hoodie when you’re cold. He drives you home after school. Buys you lunch when you can’t afford it. Takes you on nice dates.

He wants you sitting front row at all his games, wearing his varsity jacket so everyone knows you’re his girl. He twirls you and kisses you in front of the whole school when he wins, the whole thing right of a cheesy rom-com.

But, surely, you didn’t think he was doing all that for free? No, he wants compensation. He deserves a reward for treating you so sweetly. It's only fair.

It doesn’t matter if you’re ‘not ready’. No, no, you’re just nervous, sweetheart. But he’ll be gentle with you so calm down. Yeah, calm down when he slides a hand up your skirt on a date to the movies. Be quiet when he asks you for head in the janitor’s closet between classes. And don’t make a fuss when he slips his cock inside of you, raw, even though you begged him to use a condom.

‘Rubbers hurt,’ he says. ‘It feels better raw’,’ he pleads. ‘Don’t worry - I'll pull out.,’ he promises.

And you better be understanding when he comes inside of you. Afterall, he’ll buy you a plan b.

Choso

Whatever you do, do not stress this man.

He’s going through enough as is. The last thing he needs from you is any attitude or ungratefulness. Even an upset face will have you with your knees pushed beside your head and Choso making you scream, all while watching you with that same tired expression.

Choso is the oldest of ten siblings. He is used to dealing with bratty behavior. He handles your tantrums with grace - once you’ve finished throwing things and screaming, he’ll only ask if you're finished. And then he will be upon you.

But, beyond punishment, he is caring and quiet. He prefers it when you speak, likes it when you prattle on about your day or your favorite show. He likes it when you’re happy.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

your ghoul fics have me in a fuckin chokehold 😭😩 there's nothing i love more in life than a scary sexy man w questionable morals

not to be horny in anon but like... imagine the reader, after having been traveling together for a while, being an insufferable brat for a couple days, just tap dancing on coop's last nerve- but he's not gonna get rid of you, he's seen you in action, despite his lone-ranger status, you're too useful. too skilled. too good at surviving in the wasteland as a vaultie for this not to have been destined. at least that's what he tells himself to avoid facing the fact that, well, poor bastard caught feelings. basically this is a long winded way of me saying boot riding as punishment, cause the man deserves a free polish 😶

Grunt Work

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller Reader

Word Count: 3,920

Warnings: smut (18+), BDSM-style dynamics, boot riding, masturbation (male), begging, mild hair pulling, mild cum play, Cooper is a softie (but a pissed off softie).

Notes: Anon, I wish you would've been here to see me read this request for the first time. I think a small part of my brain exploded. How did this become 4,000 words? It may have turned out softer than you envisioned (not the first time I've given that preface/apology and it certainly won't be the last; The Ghoul is soft deep inside and you cannot tell me otherwise!), and if so, I hope you still enjoy. Thank you for reading!

Every day with this girl was an exercise in self-restraint.

Granted, the type of self-restraint varied greatly from day to day, hour to hour. From the moment he had agreed to do business with the vaultie, she'd been testing his patience, his boundaries, his sense of what was normal.

Generally, he quite liked it. It was actually endlessly refreshing, he found, to spend time with someone who treated him like he was human, who he felt comfortable enough to actually relax a bit around. Someone who still had some sunshine left in them. Slowly, agonizingly so, they'd developed a bit of a rapport, then a genuine trust, which had eventually (and somewhat recently, given the scope of all the months they'd been traveling together) bloomed into more. What you'd call that "more", he wasn't really certain.

It had been the first time he'd allowed himself any sort of dalliance in that area since he'd divorced Barb all those years ago, and it had been both amazing and heartbreaking. Establishing that new attachment with his little vaultie had been the first time in lifetimes that he truly felt connected to his humanity, the way she'd kissed him and clung to him and sighed his name just like one would with any normal man.

He really had forgotten how wonderful it could be to be with someone, to let them get as close as they possibly could, even though he looked the way he did, acted the way he did, and refused to take off anything besides his duster, his gloves, and his hat.

He knew, deep down somewhere, that she wouldn't reject him simply for what his body looked like. Not at this point. Unfortunately, her feelings about his body didn't really change his feelings about his body. Still, getting to feel her and hold her close had been even better than he'd imagined.

But that new moment of connection, that next and first step, also meant he was fully closing the door on his time with Barb; he'd always been faithful to her, even after they'd split, since he'd really had no interest in dating again in the time after the paperwork was finalized. Then the world had ended and wasn't even a thought in his mind for ages. It had taken him months to even see the advances the girl had been making towards him, months more to reciprocate them.

As asinine as it would seem, becoming this close, actually giving himself to someone else physically and emotionally, made his two-centuries old divorce finally feel real. His ex-wife could still well be out there somewhere, as far as he knew, but they'd never be together again, even if by some wild chance they were reunited. Those special feelings he'd once held so deeply for her were no more.

When his companion had finally fallen asleep that night, tucked naked and warm against his side and wrapped in the tail of his duster, he had shed a few tears, something he genuinely didn't believe he was still capable of.

She didn't seem to be sleeping as deeply as she typically did that night, but if she'd overheard his incredibly vulnerable moment, she never let on or brought it up, and he was endlessly grateful for it.

Maybe he was just growing soft with old age.

She was also quite the burgeoning Wastelander, a shockingly good scavenger with a sharp eye for value and utility, small enough to fit in places that he couldn't, her little hands quick at hacking terminals and picking locks. But, despite her small size, she was quite strong, able to handle herself far better in most fights than he'd ever expected a vault-dweller to be capable of. He didn't necessarily need to watch over her every single second, but the urge persisted, nevertheless. Seeing her safe, seeing her happy, those things gave him a strange sense of inner peace that he hadn't felt in ages. It had become second nature to hover around her.

Besides, as of late, keeping an eye on her every second seemed to be his best bet to stay alive. He was genuinely unsure if his girl (Was that what she was?) had been dealing with an especially bad streak of luck over the last week, or what, but she was rapidly grating on his nerves much more usual.

First, she had managed to nose her way into a yao guai den and set the thing off chasing her, resulting in him taking a pretty nasty swipe to the side before they could put it down, several foot-long tears in his already worse-for-wear coat. However, she'd apologized profusely, spent a few hours that night mending and patching up his coat. He found it impossible to stay mad at her through either.

Then, she'd done the exact same thing a few days later, but with a pack of nightstalkers. He'd nearly lost a finger helping her fight them off, the shitty little things infinitely more tough than one might expect. After that, she was officially no longer in charge of picking where they slept, an arrangement he hadn't been fully aware he'd entered into until he'd had to put his foot down about it. Whatever, she'd pouted a bit and insisted it wasn't her fault. He didn't love how little she spoke to him when she was pouting, and her resolve for keeping at such things was irritatingly strong, but what bothered him more was how well it worked.

Eventually, he'd apologized for snapping at her. That night, she chose where they slept. He tried to not think too long on why he'd let her.

He didn't fully understand why he found himself acting this way around her, and only her. All he knew for sure was that he'd be devastated to lose her, as chagrined as the admission made him, and so he did his best to make things pleasant to keep her around.

What she'd pulled today, however, had managed to officially piss him off.

After a long week of iffy sleep and more scrapes with wildlife and fiends than usual, they had both been a tad testy by the time they'd reached the shabby little trading outpost at the edge of the Wastes, one of the last places you could reliably stop for clean water and supplies in this section of the desert going the way they'd come from. It was also a reliable place for him to obtain vials, and had come in handy to a life-saving degree more than once.

The girl had gotten slick-mouthed with the proprietor over the price of some fancy machine parts she'd scrounged up, insisting that they were worth far more than he was offering her. Granted, she was right; the man was attempting to swindle her, to some degree, but frankly, the damn things were cumbersome and heavy and he wouldn't even call the price she could theoretically get for them worth hauling them around in the heat. If it were him, he wouldn't have dragged them all this way, and would certainly ditch them now.

For reasons he couldn't fathom, though, her solution to the man offhandedly threatening to just keep the damn things had been to pull her pistol on him, which, of course, had set off an entire chain of unnecessary events. The owner's gun had come out, as well, then Cooper's, despite him actually trying to talk the situation down for once.

The man wouldn't relent, however, and he had been forced to shoot his hand off to end the conflict without her blood being spilled. Well, maybe not completely forced, but it certainly felt that way at the time. That particular trading outpost had been incredibly useful to him for well over a decade, and now he wouldn't be able to return.

If it had been anyone else, he probably would have shot them.

Not probably. He would have shot them.

But instead, here he was, tucked into a creaky old UV-eaten lawn chair, smoking and trying to disguise how unsettlingly happy he was to finally have some safe alone time with her beneath his annoyance at being inconvenienced. If there was one thing he hated, it was being inconvenienced. But, if there was one thing he greatly enjoyed, it was her company, so he was at a bit of an impasse.

It was moments like this where he wondered if he'd finally poisoned his brain with too much Jet or any other number of substances, the haze that consumed him every moment around her thick. Even now, when he was angrier with her than he'd ever been at any point in their travels, he couldn't focus on his legitimate grievance because he wanted her so badly. It was the single most irksome thing he'd ever experienced.

She was quickly sniffing out this weakness of his, perceptive little minx that she was. Increasingly, she was quick to soothe his bad moods with little touches and kisses, and it made him melt embarrassingly every single time. He'd been livid and silent as they'd trudged away from the building, both of them covered in rapidly-cooling blood spatter, when she'd brushed her hand along his back softly; a sort of apology, he supposed. Since then, his main source of anger had been himself and his lack of resolve when it came to this particular woman.

The old cowboy was determined to teach her a lesson today, though.

He'd spent the better part of an hour checking their perimeter once they'd come across this place, and the little sniper's nest where they were holed up had a great view of the area. It certainly wasn't much, little more than a rusty metal panel jammed between some rocks, a mattress, a chair, and a radio. But for the first time in a few weeks, things were safe, quiet, and calm. They had plenty of rations between the two of them, and water wasn't as much of a concern as it had been on their way in. She was so comfortable that she'd actually shed her boots and socks, her dainty little feet curled up underneath her as she nibbled away at something under the ramshackle "roof".

Now was the time. He just had to wait for the opportunity.

"You've been quiet since we left the traders." she said after a while of companionable, though mildly terse, silence. It wasn't a question, but at the same time very much was, and the casual, roundabout way she was addressing what was her own actions made him scowl slightly.

"You've been a pain in my ass these last few days, sugar." he said flatly, glaring at her as best as he could from under the brim of his hat. "Should be happy I've just been quiet now."

She actually rolled her eyes slightly, but clearly didn't think he'd seen it, keeping silent as she continued to eat. Increasingly bold for someone within grabbing distance. Cooper let a few seconds pass, studying her.

"Y'know, when I was in the marines, if you were a little shitheel, they'd make you do grunt work." he said eventually, voice matter-of-fact.

She pursed her lips at that, finishing up the can of beans she'd been steadily tucking into.

"I don't think I know what that is." she replied almost absentmindedly.

"It's the shit work no one ever wanted to do, so being assigned to it was intended as a punishment. Scrubbin' floors, toilets. Peelin' potatoes. Polishin' boots."

She chuckled at his anecdote as if it were meant to be entertaining, but the way he let her laugh hang in the silence, staring her down as she sat there curled up beside him, said otherwise. After a moment, she sort of narrowed her eyes at him, her tone low, almost conspiratory, when she asked:

"What're you playing at, cowboy?"

"I'm sayin' you're in trouble, cowgirl." he replied, reaching out to hold her chin solidly in his grip and watching her pout. "I'm sayin' that I think a little grunt work would do you and that attitude of yours some good, and I'm sayin' that I think you should polish my boots."

"Polish your boots?" she repeated, wrapping her tongue around each of the words like they were foreign to her.

"Pretty sure there ain't a functioning toilet within a hundred miles of where we're sitting, and I ain't got any potatoes. So…"

"You can't be serious." she said, her eyes full of curious suspicion as she looked him up and down.

Releasing her chin, the old ghoul set to removing his gloves, tugging his second hand free and using his naked pointer finger to draw a little 'x' over his heart.

"Serious as the grave, darlin'."

There were a few pregnant seconds of them staring one another down, waiting for the other to bend, to flinch. She even lifted her chin towards him, just enough for him to pick up on, an unspoken challenge. God, she was so like him.

"Now…be good and take your clothes off." he smirked, brows raising when she made to argue in response. Her lips worked their way between her teeth as she hesitated before slowly dropping all her armor from her arms and torso, then drawing the dirty shirt underneath over her head.

"Is that better, Coop?" she asked, letting her hair down out of the knot she'd tied it up into on top of her head, the strands framing her face as she worked him over again with those eyes of hers. Pulling herself up into a standing position, he did his best to ignore the way her bare breasts moved and dipped with gravity.

"Mmm. I think it would be more fittin' if you called me 'sir', frankly."

"You cannot be serious!" she insisted again, indignant as she slid the zipper on her trousers down, her tone making him chuckle despite himself. She just didn't know when to quit, and it was fucking adorable.

"Am I ever unserious?" he asked, ignoring the look she shot him back in favor of watching her slowly work the worn pants down over the curve of her ass, dropping them into a pile around her feet and leaving her standing there as naked as the day she was born. He felt his already-stiffening cock twitch slightly, resisting the urge to rub himself through the faded pinstripes of his pants. This was supposed to be a punishment for her, and doing that would give her too much opportunity to distract him.

"Aww, c'mon, boss." she sighed, pressing at a hidden button of his, cocking her head and sending that silky curtain around her face glinting in the light.

"I mean it, missy. You fucked up pretty bad today, and you need to be punished for it. And what did I just say?" he responded, fighting hard to keep his voice even and body still.

"Well…what else would you have in mind as a punishment, sir?" she purred as she stepped back towards him, batting those long, dark lashes his way. He managed to keep his eyes on hers and off of her body, a task that felt herculean as the ache in his gut grew more intense. For a split second, he wanted to give in to her, to pin her to the ground and fuck the attitude out of her like he'd wanted to for days. But there would be plenty of time for that later.

"I promise you that if you knew your other options, darlin', you'd choose this." he replied, finishing his smoke and tossing the butt away. Digging his inhaler out for a quick puff, he finally removed his hat and set it aside, reclining just enough to allow his feet to stick out a few inches in front of him.

She huffed at her little ploy failing to work, crossing her arms and cocking her hip slightly. Cooper's teeth dug into the inside of his cheek to keep back a grin.

"Well, are you gonna take them off?" she demanded.

He couldn't hold back his smirk at that, his head cocking as he continued to stare her down.

"Just how long are you gonna keep playin' dumb? You know it's gonna get cold when it gets dark."

Studying her face, he could see the faint lines of confusion there, and wondered if maybe she really didn't know what he meant.

"There's a reason I wanted you naked, honey, and it ain't just the view."

Though it certainly didn't hurt.

It took a few long, long seconds of her looking him up and down, wondering, but eventually the glow of realization lit up her face, followed by more brow furrowed confusion.

"How would that even work?" she asked, though her tone was more curious than argumentative.

"I suppose you'll figure it out, huh? Askin' an awful lot of questions for someone who's about to be freezin' their twat off in about half an hour." he said, watching with apparent glee as she fidgeted in place, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.

Still attempting to make a stand, she didn't move, chewing away at that bottom lip as she hesitated there. He could smell that she was already turned on.

"Go on. Get to work." he ordered softly, exhaling smoke through his nose, staring into her eyes.

After a heartbeat, she seemed to accept her fate and slowly lowered herself down onto her knees in front of him. That, too, made his cock jump. Her cheeks had a visible rosy hue as she clearly struggled to arch herself at the right angle to make proper contact; after a few long seconds of her huffy sighs, he took mercy on her and tilted the toe of his boot more skyward, allowing her to begin to rub herself back and forth across the dusty leather in earnest.

He watched as her face slowly morphed from mildly confused concentration to blossoming arousal, the tint in her cheeks growing until it consumed her entire face.

"How does it feel?" he asked quietly, taking another long drag off of his smoke.

"It feels good." she huffed, a light sheen of sweat glinting on her soft skin.

He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair at that, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, her eyes flying open to gaze up at him, wide and wet.

"Feels good what?" he demanded. "Given you an awful lot of chances on that, kid. Y'know, insubordination usually calls for more severe punishment."

"It feels good, sir." she replied, her hips stuttering slightly as she struggled to move them with her head fixed in place, her eyes falling shut again. He found it a little surprising that the mild pain hadn't stopped her or made her complain more. If anything, she'd seemed to like it. He took note of that for later.

"Tsk. Well, it's supposed to be a punishment, but I guess I can't help it if a little freak like you gets off on polishin' my boots. Guess I did know a guy in the service who really liked bein' made to scrub the floor, but, between you and me, I think he might've had a little thing for bein' pushed around and told what to do." Cooper's voice fell to a secretive murmur as he spoke to her, watching her eyes dart away as he teased her.

However, as he watched her slide herself back and forth across his foot, he found it more and more difficult to resist the urge to touch himself. When her eyes didn't open for several minutes, focused entirely on the sensation, it would seem, he took the opportunity to palm his cock, his hips eventually beginning to rock against his hand. That movement caught her attention, her gaze burning into him as she watched; this was a button of hers for whatever reason. Feeling emboldened and somewhat sure that she was too distracted to cause trouble, he quickly undid his belt and fly and tugged his erection free, a shiver running down his spine as he gave himself a few experimental pumps in the cooling air.

Unfortunately, he'd underestimated how coherent she still was, her head remaining low, but her right hand creeping up his leg towards his hand. He jerked his chin towards her, sending her jumping back a bit. However, she didn't look fearful, more chastened.

"Don't. You. Fuckin'. Dare." he growled, his hand not stilling for a moment. "If you touch me, I'm gonna put you over my knee and spank your little ass until you can't sit right for a week."

His threats only seemed to make her hotter, a throaty moan leaving her as she began to hump his boot with increased speed, all attempts at preserving any semblance of her dignity abandoned in the pursuit of her orgasm. The grip he was maintaining on himself tightened, and a growl ripped out of his chest in response as he fought to keep his eyes open and on her. If he could still sweat, he'd be pouring it just like her.

Cooper's leg jerked involuntarily as a particularly strong wave of pleasure shot up his spine, digging the toe of his boot harder into her weeping little slit, and she keened in response, her body beginning to twitch all over like it did when she was nearing her end.

"You close, honey? You wanna cum?" he asked feverishly, rapidly sprinting towards his own finish line.

She nodded rapidly, her breasts heaving with her strained breath as her nails dug into his thigh.

"Please, please, please..." she breathed over and over.

"Look at you, just cleaned the thing and you're about to make a mess all over it because you're such a needy little slut." he chastised, breaking down into a harsh whisper as he seized her by her hair once more, his cig hanging loosely from his lips. "Go on, baby. Cum all over my boot."

The labored whine she let out as she lost herself all over him, and the blissful way her face contorted as she cried out, was more than enough to finish him off, his release spurting all over his hand and stomach. They both growled and groaned their way through their shared release, her collapsing against the inside of his leg as she panted heavily. Working to control his own breathing, he let his head fall completely back with a blunted "thud" against the frame of the chair, releasing his grip on her head.

After a few quiet moments, they both rather sheepishly peeked at one another. He held his spend-covered hand up in front of her face, the mess catching the fading light as he reached out towards her.

"You're gonna have to clean that up, too." he said softly, rubbing some of the slickness across her lips, barely holding back a groan when the little pink tip of her tongue darted out to lap at his fingers as they passed by.

"Mmm. Yes, sir." she responded, gently laying her temple against the side of his knee, those big, round eyes slowly slipping shut. Cooper reached out and laid his palm against her head, petting her now-rumpled hair with more affection than he'd like to admit, admiring her in the golden-red hue of the evening sun.

"Don't get too comfy there, sweetheart." he said after a few quiet moments, his cock beginning to stir again. "Don't forget, I've got another boot."

[verlaineszz]

"ALL I WANNA DO IS GET HIGH BY THE BEACH!"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚— HUMAN FYODOR X SIREN FEM READER

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩SUMMARY: A man with a haunting past and a dead lover has already lost hope in all of humanity. He originally wanted to save humanity, not until the only person he loved the most perished because of it. Avenging of what he can, he does heinous crimes and carry a hatred towards humanity due to the loss of his lover.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ — ANGST + HORROR + ROMANCE + PSYCHOLOGY

A/N: Im gonna make this fanfic quite short since I've been busy and drained.. Please enjoy the read<3!

( ၴႅၴ+WARNINGS! : DRUG USAGE, MURDER, DEATH (+ nickname usage, - Lyubov' (love) & Ангел (angel)

Being somebody who is considered 'immortal' wasn't easy, you see the people you love die easily.

Originally, fyodor wanted to save humanity, he believed that everyone needed saving except the people who abused the abilities that was bestowed onto them by the heavens.

He only loved ONE person, a woman who has gained his interest and his affection. The love he had was unconditional and affectionate, a raging storm that was shined upon with the everlasting moonlight. And that was all YOU.

But one day, you needed to visit a certain island due to your studies, being the lover fyodor was, he was quite skeptical and paranoid that something may happen to you, but he didn't wanna cut off your freedom as he does love you dearly.. So he let you off.

With a kiss on the hand and a cheek, you leave the house with a suitcase, on your way to the ship that you were going on, it was a ship controlled by a wealthy and powerful dictator, who the DOSTOEVSKY wasn't fond of.

The ship set sailed in ease..

A few days later, fyodor received a message that the ship went missing. Including you. And the only person who survived it was no other than the dictator himself.

Fyodor clutched his fists as he read through the letter, it wasn't often he was enranged like this, but the melancholic feeling of his lover missing consumed him, how could he let this happen? He should've never let you on in the ship.

Eventually thats when he becamd a ruthless man, he was already making ability users perish but the only thing he admired and adored the most has been taken away from him, he had a plan. A plan to kill the dictator.

He was used to hiding, but he didn't want to anymore. He'd do anything to avenge your death. Your body wasn't even found.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Years passed by, population went down due to his sprees, this void in him was eating him alive.

Every neck he slashed and every shot he has taken was all for you.

He walked through the jagged rocks of the beach, trying to get away from his past. He wanted to forget about it, but he didn't wanna forget you. He walked groggily, he recently took some Lysergic acid diethylamide, he wanted to lay off of life for a second and forget his surroundings. He wasn't normally this disheveled and unhinged, but your death really took a toll on him.

The wind howled through the decaying coastal town, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant, mournful cries of the sea. Fyodors face gaunt and holloweyed, stumbled along the cobblestone streets, the weight of the past dragging at his every step. He had come to this place seeking something anything that could fill the void left by the death of his wife. But in his search for solace, he had found only darkness.

He took another blotter paper with LSD, he walked till the end of the coast line, nobody was around as the numbing feeling of the substance took over his chest, that dulled tha pain he endured. His legs were cut and he was pale and skinny, you were always the one who was taking care of him that he forgot what to eat, drink and how to sleep.

He looked at the moon with half lidded eyes and soft breathing before hearing a familiar voice. The singing was melodic and smooth to hear, a voice that had the same pitch, tone, and key to yours. This can't be real right?

He immediately walks over to the sound, trying to find it. The sky was oddly colorful today. It was a deep blue. He walked over and he hears it getting louder, he breathes heavily. Running towards the sound, he didn't wanna speak yet. He had to find out himself, were you still alive? After all these years?

With unsteady steps, he descended the rocky path to the shore, the waves crashing violently against the rocks. There, in the shallow waters, stood a figure, bathed in the ghostly light of the moon. Her hair tangled and damp, her skin beautiful and glistening with the spray of the sea. But it was her eyes. those familiar, haunting eyes—.. that stopped fyodor in his tracks.

"Lyubov'.." he muttered with wide eyes and disbelief, his sadness washing away from his chest.

His breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be. Yet, as he looked at her, he was certain that this was his wife, that returned to him from beyond the grave. His heart swelled with a mix of joy and sorrow, his mind reeling with the impossibility of it all.

“fedya.. ” you whispered with a teasing grin, your voice a soft, melodic echo of the song that had called him. breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be. Yet, as he looked at her, he was certain—this was his wife.. His beloved lover, That returned to him from beyond the grave. His heart swelled with a mix of joy and sorrow, his mind reeling with the impossibility of it all.

“You came back Ангел..!” he choked out, walking toward you with an admiring grin. “I knew you would come back."

The siren, his wife, smiled, a sad, distant expression that seemed almost… wrong.

“I never left, fedya. I've been here all along. Awaiting for your arrival, my dear." you whispered softly in his ear.

He fell to his knees in the icy cold water, reaching out to touch her. His hand trembled as it brushed against your cheek, you leaned into his touch, your skin cold, damp, and scaley..yet familiar.

He grinned gently, wrapping his hands on your waist, admiring your beautiful face. This is what dreams are made of right? Everything felt completely right. His eyes were filled with adoration and solace. The gaping void in his chest was filled once again, he was finally with you. His wife.

"I've done alot of things in the past, im afraid. But i did it all for you." he caressed your skin, but it felt.. Hard and cold. He ignored that, he just wanted to be with you, to touch you, to love you all over again. "I want you to understand, lyubov'. If you come back amd see the way things are now, don't be afraid."

His eyes were locked onto yours, tucking a piece of your hair behind your finned ears. He looked down, seeing your scaley tail. He didn't care of you weren't human anymore.

You lean onto him, "I'm back now.. Come with me instead, into the depths of the ocean." he nods, his gaze locked onto yours, "let go, and be with me.. Forever. In the sea. We'll love again,"— he nodded, his thumb caressing your cheek as he held your waist securely. "we'll laugh again, and we'll be together. Forever."

His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had yearned for this moment, to be reunited with you, to finally find peace and have you in his arms. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, cold and salty like the sea.. But how beautiful you were..

But as he kissed you, he felt nothing but bones. He felt something hard, it wasn't the soft lips that he would kiss every night.

No.

It wasn't.

The substances effect slowly faded away, he looked back at you.. his eyes wide with horror. The figure before him was no longer his wife, no longer the ethereal beauty who had called to him from the sea. She was something else!- something twisted and grotesque. Your bones were pale, bloated, mottled with decay, and your eyes.. those eyes.. were empty, hollow sockets.

This was not a reincarnation of you as a siren. It was your remains. Your rotting missing cadaver that had washed up on shore. Your boned were waterlogged and broken, her limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The crashing waves of the oceans was evident that it crushed your body. The waves and smell of the sea surrounded him as he held your decaying bones.

He looked at your ring finger. It still had the ring he proposed to you with, a patch of grey rotting skin was under the ring. Your skin, that he worshipped and adored the most. His breath was jagged and he held your hand, a single tear dropping down his eye.

The corpse stared back at him with empty eyes, her mouth twisted into a mockery of the smile he loved. He looks down and he held your decaying body close, leaning his head onto your shoulder.

"I.. I will then. If you want it, I'll do it."

It was all a hallucination. But he didn't want to believe that. He believed it was still you. He carried your rotting bones in bridal style, like he did during your wedding day.

He took another dose of his substances and he walked deeper into the ocean.

Deeper.

And deeper..

And deeper.

A/N: the color of the theme is blue and white, completely different from my theme which is red and black..but i wanted to change it up abit. Thanks for reading. This actually made me sad abit..

© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

[floralcyanide]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫

cillian murphy!oppenheimer x reader

DISCLAIMER: this is fanfiction. it isn’t real. Oppenheimer is a real person, however Cillian!Oppenheimer is not. he is a character. if you have something bad to say just keep it in the drafts (:

“let's all go play Nagasaki, we can all get vaporized. hold my hand, let's turn to ash. I'll see you on the other side.” - 137 by Brand New

warnings: spoilers for Oppenheimer, descriptions of nuclear bomb/ explosion, fear

word count: 1316

author's note: I love Cillian so much, and he did so good in Oppy!! I just had to write about it. please keep in mind there are spoilers in this, don't read if you haven't seen the movie. also, there's only like, one other fic on here for Cillian!Oppy which is sad but I'm sure there'll be more soon. (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

For the last few nights, Robert has woken up abruptly from his sleep. He’ll sit upright and pant, trying his best to catch his breath. It alarms you every time he does this despite him acting like it didn’t happen. But you know he doesn’t go back to sleep after because you feel him toss and turn until morning. Test day is tomorrow, and you can feel Robert’s nervous energy radiating off him. This was it- this was the epitome of his life’s work, and if it failed, he would be lost. And you’re torn between wanting it not to work for humanity’s sake and wanting it to work for Robert’s. 

You have worked alongside your husband for many years despite the pushback from society. But he knows your intelligence and insisted you be involved in the Project. He refused to have anything to do with it unless you assisted him. Lieutenant Groves reluctantly agreed, but he still knew just how capable you were to help with the Project. 

You’re very much a housewife outside of work, though. Despite being a knowledgeable person, you still have duties at home. You’re busy folding laundry when Robert exits the bedroom after getting ready for a meeting. It was the last one before tomorrow’s events. Robert doesn’t say much to you before bidding his farewell and heading out. It wasn’t abnormal for him to mumble a goodbye before putting his hat on and leaving without anything else said. He was reserved unless it was necessary to say something. That’s one thing you admired about Robert; he could be cynical and sarcastic yet humble and a man of few words. 

You would attend a later meeting that evening, so it’s possible you may not see Robert until bedtime. You aren’t worried about him not kissing your son goodnight or missing dinner. You mostly worry he won’t sleep enough.

Later in bed, you and Robert both lay on your backs, staring at the ceiling wordlessly. 

“How are you feeling?” you suddenly ask, breaking the eerie silence.

Robert opens his mouth before shutting it again, shrugging.

You sigh, turning on your side to face him, “I can feel you have nightmares, you know.”

Robert cuts his eyes toward you before giving in and rolling over to face you as well, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you furrow your brow, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. What we’re- what you’re doing is incredibly stressful and world-changing. It’s normal to be anxious over it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m anxious.”

“Which part?”

“The world-changing part.”

You’re quiet for a moment before answering, “What do you dream about?”

Robert’s eyes study yours closely, searching for any instance of potential recoil from what he’s about to tell you. He searches even though he knows he won’t find it because Robert knows that you’d never leave him no matter what. Even if his nightmares were incomparable to even the most descriptive horror stories. What’s worse is that Robert knows no one has ever seen the results of a bomb the magnitude of the one he’s created. So it’s up to his imagination. And his imagination is one of grotesque imagery that he hopes won’t come to fruition.

“Death,” Robert says plainly, with a cold look, “Destruction. Everything in my dreams is obliterated by fire and disintegrates into ash, and even the ash turns into nothingness.”

You purse your lips, gently reaching your hand up to touch Robert’s cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I don’t fear for me or for us. I fear for our children,” Robert gives a watery laugh, “And the world they’ll have to grow up in knowing that such weaponry exists.”

You tuck Robert’s head into your chest, “You are merely the creator, darling. You have no control over how they use your creation. And I know that worries you, but you cannot do much about it.”

“I know. You’re right. But the fact I’m the one responsible for such a destructive device,” Robert trails off.

“Your creation is for science exploration and nothing more,” you say, “Remember that tomorrow.”

When you awake at two in the morning to prepare for the test, Robert has already gotten up from bed. You figure he didn’t sleep and has already made his way down the street to prepare. You hurriedly get dressed, grab your son, and walk out the front door. You let your neighbor, one of the wives of another scientist, watch over your son while you and Robert are away. A vehicle has been sent to your home, probably by Robert, to retrieve you. The ride is quiet and bumpy. You figure they would take you to the main hall, but they keep driving into the desert. Everyone must already be at Trinity. 

Trinity is alight, with people who worked on the project scurrying around to find the perfect spot to watch the explosion. You climb off the vehicle and run to the tent where Robert resides with the others. A relieved smile grows on his face when he sees you walk in.

“I didn’t want to see this without you,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Did you sleep at all?” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, no. But sleep can come later,” Robert says, returning to the detonation station. 

You cross your arms and walk around aimlessly, watching the scientists scramble to take their places and put sun shades on.

“Ninety minutes,” Robert says from behind you.

You turn around to look at him, a half smile growing on your face, “I’m proud of you.”

“And I’m proud of you, too. Without your suggestions, we may not be here,” Robert plays with a loose strand of your hair.

“I doubt that,” you chuckle, “Your brainpower alone has done the job.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Robert says.

After a little under an hour and a half of checking that everything was perfect and prepared, everyone took their places where they wanted to view the test. You’re next to Robert, with goggles on your face that match his. Both of you have ports to get a fantastic view. The countdown begins.

Everyone becomes dead silent as the bomb is detonated. The flash causes you to gasp, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness despite the goggles. When the light subsides, you see a mushroom cloud of nothing but fire beginning to rise to the atmosphere. Beside you, Robert grabs hold of your hand and grasps it tightly. 

“Now I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” Robert says with a haunting tone.

You remove your goggles along with everyone else as you squint against the harsh brightness. Before you is the most terrifying, breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. A firestorm that is capable of mass destruction. A scientific miracle. But before anyone can relax, the sound of air rumbling and rushing toward the tent is heard. The sound of the explosion hits the viewing base violently. The blast wave smacks everyone as they brace themselves against the high wind. Once the hot gust of air subsides and the explosion tapers down, everyone begins to cheer and clap.

“We did it,” Robert says in disbelief before he looks up at you, “We actually did it.”

You nod, smiling at him proudly before engulfing him in a hug.

“I have destroyed the world,” Robert whispers in your ear, and you pull away to see an odd flash of emotion cross his face.

“You haven’t,” you whisper back, as people begin to approach your husband, “But you’ve changed it forever.”

As colleagues surround Robert and move him outside, you remain in the tent for a moment. You replay the mushroom-looking explosion in your head. You begin to ponder what the Manhattan Project’s creation will do for the world. And whether it’s good or bad.

Either way, everyone has been forever changed.

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 4

Pegging | Castration | Omegaverse

Pairing: Satoru Gojo/Reader

Warnings: reader is a yandere, gojo is into it, this is basically a comedy believe it or not, gore, a shocking amount of consent for a yandere fic

Pets can be wonderful companions, and a great addition to your family. Especially for a young, single woman like you – a dog can add a feeling of security, and also provide companionship while you’re at home.

But pets aren’t always all fun. Dogs act out for all sorts of reasons.

Bad training. High energy. Need for attention.

In your dog's case, it's separation anxiety.

And "acting out" means Gojo jerks off into your work shoes.

You don't even know how he's getting out of the cage every night. His crate training seems to have failed, but he always obediently goes into the cage at the foot of your bed. Granted, you had to move it so you could stroke his hair as he fell asleep (or pretended to, apparently).

It's not for the sexual release. You'd started jerking him off before bed and that just made him want to jump on you and lick you. You haven’t even started on those kinds of lessons. Gojo’s too quick a study, who knows what he’ll do if you give him access to your cunt and show him how to make you cum.

Fortunately for now, he doesn’t know, and probably wouldn’t ever figure it out. He’s definitely never given a woman head before, which you would normally find repulsive in a man, but you’re pretty sure Gojo’s attitude has just successfully repelled all willing pussy.

This left you, however, with the singular remaining problem of cum in your work shoes.

In a normal relationship, this is where you would talk to your partner about their behavior, explaining how much it bothers you, and convincing them to stop or adjust to make things better.

But Gojo’s not a person, he’s your pet. Even if he’s six foot six and human shaped, he’s just your sweet puppy at the end of the day. He doesn’t understand human speech, even if he’s capable of mimicking it sometimes.

“I’m a sorcerer, you know?” He’d said, “I teach at this one school. My students are going to miss me.”

You’d given him the benefit of the doubt, indulging him with the offer to demonstrate his ‘sorcery’.

Gojo had made a (very cute) concentrating face, then told you to touch him. He looked super surprised when you were able to.

“Wait, what?”

Snapping the collar around his neck, you’d led him off to the life he was destined for, the life of your cherished pet and companion.

Honestly, you’d really saved him. What was a guy like this doing in the real world? Of course he was filthy rich – lucky him – but it terrified you what sorts of people had taken advantage of him before.

What sort of relationships had he been in? He’d accepted the collar right away, even though you’d only just met! It was worrying, how easily he trusted you, even though you really were doing what was best for him. He’d just followed you without question, happily living as your pet.

You’re not protesting, but really, who does that? Satoru Gojo, that’s who. The love of your life who cums in your shoes and peppers your face with kisses as soon as he sees you.

It’s been another frustrating day. He’d messed up all your shoes this time, forcing you to try and wash some, getting to work late. Why does he have to be so difficult?

You spend all day at work thinking of a solution. Of a way to fix him.

It comes to you before you get home. And when you do, he’s waiting for you at the front door, sniffling and quivering like an abandoned puppy. It’s unbearably adorable, and wholly exaggerated.

As soon as you’re in, he pounces on you, hugging you like he hasn’t seen you in centuries, babbling your name and showering you with sloppy kisses.

It’s like he knows you’re a complete sop deep down, and you’ll forgive him for nearly anything if he’s cute and affectionate enough afterwards. Aggravating man. He really is more of a pet than a person.

The two of you spend your day going about various things – Gojo chatters, and you tune it out, humming and petting and giving him an indulgent kiss as you watch TV together, play games, or even cook.

He is useless in the kitchen, always making a mess, and you suspect it’s because he enjoys the fact that you usually opt to give him a bath afterwards.

Truly, more dog than man. It’s your life’s greatest misfortune that you are, thoroughly, a dog person. Or perhaps just a Satoru Gojo sort of person – you can’t imagine raising a dog on top of this. Mostly because you’d have to face the reality that a dog would probably be easier.

“…and I don’t know how you’ve been getting out to begin with,” You finish off your frustrated ramble, setting down the hair dryer as you finish up his hair.

He’s smart enough to clean himself, probably, but you know he likes being pampered. And it’s your privilege as a pet owner to bathe and dry him. Moreover, his hair is unbelievably soft – you run a hand through it, scratching, a sensation he easily leans into.

“Ah, I figured it out ages ago,” He hums, tilting his head up so you can scratch under his chin more easily, “Your technique only works when you’re awake, on things that you can somehow observe.”

Most of his words sound like meaningless barks to you, now. Which means it’s cute, and when he’s being cute, you call him Satoru.

“That’s great, Satoru, sweetie,” You move up to scratch behind his ear and he sighs in bliss, “But you know, you really put me in a tough spot today.”

Pretty blue eyes, wide and pleading, open up. “I’m rich, baby,” He whines, “I can give you all the money you need. Don’t go out every day. Stay with me.”

Boundaries and maintaining separate lives are important for a healthy relationship, but you can’t expect a dog to understand that.

“Baby,” You say gently, “Why do you feel like you always need me there? Are you not getting enough enrichment? I can get you more games to play at home, or books to read. You can even watch TV if you want to.”

He clings to your leg, sniffing, crocodile tears shimmering – but you can tell from how he’s angled that he’s sniffing straight into your crotch, and his legs straddling yours legs his groin rub up against you.

He’s actually incorrigible. You’d be genuinely concerned about someone showing up on your doorstep with a blue-eyed, white-haired child someday, except you’re pretty sure Satoru’s not capable of shutting up and not being annoying for the amount of time it would take to ejaculate inside a woman.

You’re also pretty sure he can’t even get it up with strangers. The only people you know he’s had sex with are – well. It was just one person, who he’d known for years in high school, and who now led a cult. You choose not to think about what that means for Satoru’s taste in partners.

You did stop being a stranger to him relatively quickly, but you’re putting that down to the natural chemistry and magnetism between you.

Even with a friend sneaking in to seduce him as an honesty test, Satoru had remained steadfastly loyal, as all good dogs should be. Your friend, however, didn’t speak to you for a week, and has serious doubts about your taste in men.

“I want youuuuuu,” He whines, nuzzling his face into your hand. Your heart squeezes in your chest. “I miss you so much when you’re gone.”

When you successfully fight the urge to fawn over him, he gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “I’m lonely here by myself, you know. I get separation anxiety. You can’t be mad!”

To his begging, you are immune (your life would have been very difficult otherwise). It is only his stupid thoughtless gestures of affection that move your heart and soul.

“You’re right,” You sigh, “It’s not fair of me to expect you to change your behavior.”

Satoru nods along, as if you aren’t arguing away his personhood. You’d say he’s too much of a pretty, mindless whore to use his brain, but you’re pretty sure he’s well aware of the implications and prefers pethood.

One of your friends had called you crazy, but they didn’t know Satoru like you did.

“Come here, baby, up,” A pat on your lap, and Satoru’s pretty blue eyes brighten right up – he knows what this is.

Gleefully wiggling out of his towel, he sits himself over your knee, cock already half-hard and bouncing against his well-defined abs. You’re going to need to put him on some kind of training regimen or gym time if you want him to maintain that. It’s ridiculously hot.

You take his dick in your hands – it’s a pretty thing. Just long and girthy enough to still look a little slender, all flushed pink at the tip like it’s blushing. Satoru does blush so very prettily.

He bucks into your touch, too, arms wrapped around your shoulders as he shoves himself towards you, but you allow him this indulgence as you tenderly pump him, up and down. Listening to his breathy sighs and moans he probably thinks he’s being very subtle about directing straight into your ears.

They’re still lovely, though. Everything about Satoru is lovely, even if he is terribly annoying sometimes. Everything about him is loveable to you, and always will be, no matter what.

An owner’s love for their dog is unconditional, after all.

Your other hand discreetly picks up the knife you’d left on the bedside table.

“Hhhh~ ahhh, you really are the best,” Satoru pants, clinging to you, nuzzling his face into your hair, licking over the shell of your ear. “Do I get this every night, now?”

You turn your head to place a kiss on his cheek – Satoru whines and chases your mouth with his, cheeks rosy as his cock grows redder in your hands, throbbing and twitching.

“You’re so frustrating sometimes, Satoru,” You say, allowing him his kiss, “But I still love you very much.”

Your hand squeezes harder, harder, thumbing over the slit at the head of his dick until he’s trembling in your lap. Squeaking cutely and half-clawing at the front of your shirt, “Shit, shit, fuck, hnngh, that’s so good – just a little – just let me – ”

Of course it’s good. You’d done it so many times before, after all. He squirms, body tensing as his breaths grow tight, short, his arms squeezing around you –

And then he cums with a sigh, spurting all over your hand. Satoru’s head lolls back, a shuddering gasp escaping him as he relaxes, lashes fluttering a brilliant white against his pink cheeks.

You have the knife at the ready. But first, you kiss his face, on the cheeks, on his teary eyes. He likes kisses, always wants to kiss you on the mouth, but you’re saving that to give him as a special reward, someday.

For the next few moments, you let him sink into the pleasure, feeling how the pulse in his cock slowly ebbs away, his breathing evening out. He’s always been a beauty in the afterglow; it’s no different this time.

When he’s finally soft enough, you bring the edge of the knife right up to the base, coming up from under. Pressing down with your thumb further on his shaft, you yank it upwards by the handle, HARD, enough to make a clean cut. You wouldn’t want this to be too painful, after all.

The gasp he makes is one of pain, but it’s not too unlike his other noises. His whole body shudders against you, and he pants heavily, eyes glassy as his head tilts back in blissful agony.

You hold him in your arms, shushing his sobs tenderly, whispering all the praises you know he loves (that would have made him hard).

“Shh, there’s a good boy,” Hand in his hair, stroking gently, positive reinforcement that he leans into helplessly, “You were so good for me, my sweet darling, you were perfect. My perfect boy.”  

Satoru nuzzles against your hand, pretty eyes and squeezed shut, those fair lashes glistening with tears. Sniveling so pitifully that you can feel yourself getting wetter.

Your hands are gentle now, for all the good it does him, wrapping the bandages around the wound on his crotch.

Oh, what a shame you won’t be doing much with him, soon. He’s so beautiful, all wounded and weepy like this. You’re itching to eat him up… but you’re not so irresponsible as to try that when he’s injured (even if he’d probably want you to).

There’s painkillers, many more hushed words of comfort and reassurance and praise. Satoru doesn’t care for any of the drugs or bandages, but he clings to you when you tell him you’re proud of him, that you made him happy.

That’s your boy. Your darling Satoru.

You let him sleep in your bed that night. After all, he has been a very good boy.

The cage hadn’t been stopping him anyways – but surely this would keep him in bed, too, the appeal of your company, your arms wrapped around him.

When you wake up, Satoru is sleeping peacefully, right where you left him.

Then again, he always is – but you’ve got a good feeling about this one. There’s a special charm – its own reward – seeing him curled up into your side, long limbs sprawled and twined with yours. It’s a little hard to extract yourself.

Really, you’ve got to get a dog bed or something, you think, as you get yourself ready for your day. If you let him sleep in your bed he’s bound to get up to more antics, but it was clear the cage wasn’t really holding him…

It’s something to consider. At least now, one problem is solved. You’ll miss his cock for sure, but not as much now, since you’d never had it in the first place. You love Satoru for himself, after all, and not his body.

You get out your work shoes, and –

“God damn it, Gojo!”

[roboticspacecase]

You should write Nun Dipper and Demon Bill trying to tempt Dipper into gay kissing (This is not a request, but a demand bozo)

Fine, fine, I'll write something

Stepping out to get fresh air had always been a way for Dipper to calm himself after a long day. Sleep never had been a close friend, so walking the temple grounds in the cool night air helped pass the time.

He had grown up there and knew every rock and twig on his path, easily stepping over them while keeping his back straight and head held high. Dipper enjoyed not having to think about every step he took. It gave him time to work through some of the problems his people had brought to him, which often had to do with their crops taking their sweet time coming in.

They could do plenty of things to help themselves, but with the school in town being no better than a few bookshelves with an old, loud librarian, it was up to him and his family to help them. Dipper took pride in his work in the temple, and having the time to think about it all made the following day easier to get through.

Of course, that time only helped when he was alone.

"Hey, Pine Tree," a voice echoed through the trees. "Didn't think you'd come out so early. Normally, you give laying in bed a shot for at least a few hours."

Dipper waved a hand at the empty path in front of him, still walking forward at his even pace. "I didn't want to bother with that tonight. I have too much to think about, and lying in that stuffy room with the sound of my sister snoring down the hall never helps."

"Ooh, I see. Someone's mind is busy tonight, then?" A faint, yellow glow flickered behind one of the trees up ahead. "I could take a peek in your head and help sort it out! I've always been a master of puzzles. Or, I could just take your place tomorrow and help them face-to-face! Bet they'd love to see me!"

"All are welcome in the temple if you embrace our teachings. So, it might be a bit hard for you to saunter in." Dipper stopped walking, watching the dim light grow stronger. "And we both know that I have no interest in letting you into my head."

A suave, neatly dressed man stepped out from behind a tree, the glow from before completely disappearing as he did. His yellow suit had such a stark contrast to the dark trees, however, that Dipper always assumed he made the thing out of whatever made the light. "You still don't want to let me in? It's been years, Pine Tree. How long is it going to take for you to realize what they're selling you is bogus? Everyone knows that what I've got is the real way to live life."

Dipper rolled his eyes. "You know as well as I do that your tricks aren't going to work on me. We've been over this, like, a million times, Bill. You're more than welcome to spend time with me, though. Maybe some of the true meanings of life will start to rub off on you."

The demon walked right up to Dipper, standing less than a foot away from him. "I like the sound of rubbing you off." He wiggled his eyebrows, earning a groan from Dipper.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Isn't it, though?" Bill lifted a hand, his black, leather glove softly tracing over Dipper's cheek. "I see the way you look at the human shape I take," he said in a low, rumbling voice. "How could I not notice, when every time we're together, your heart rate picks up and your holy eyes wander to my lips?"

"That's not true." Dipper's voice came out strained, though he held his unimpressed expression. Bill's eyes were locked onto his, no doubt looking for the slightest flicker of interest in his words. "I don't look at specific parts of your fake body on purpose. Sometimes I just happen to look there."

The shrill laugh that came from the demon bounced off the trees, scaring a few birds away. "Don't you know that lying is a sin, my little Pine Tree? I can see the want in your eyes." Bill pressed their noses together, his skin hot like the fiery pits he had crawled out of. "You might think your thoughts are pure, but you're still just a soul trapped in an animal's body. That meat suit you're wearing chooses what it wants, and right now, it's begging you to kiss me."

Every word the demon spoke brought with it his warm breath. It fell over Dipper's lips and cheeks like a warm blanket, his cinnamon and lemon scent inviting him to dive underneath to wait out the chilly night.

"Part of being a nun of the temple is learning to restrain any sinful whims of the flesh. I'm an adult, and therefore have already gone through the training needed to easily refuse you." Dipper's lips had gone dry, but he dared not lick them while Bill was so close.

Bill hummed, once more using his hand to stroke Dipper's cheek. "That's such a shame," he sang softly. "You've been stubborn for so long, it almost makes me believe you. But I know you, Pine Tree. I know you better than you know yourself. And I know that you're smart enough to see through all the lies that temple tells you." The demon leaned forward, nearly closing the tiny gap between their lips. He pulled back at the last second, his sharp grin filling his face. "You'll see one day. You'll all see."

With room to breathe, Dipper let out a sigh. The heat that had filled his cheeks remained, warming him more than the thick robe he had thrown on. "Well, if you're done being tempting and cryptic, then would you like to join me for the rest of my walk? I believe it's my turn to try and tempt you. Into joining the temple, of course."

The demon's grin somehow grew wider. "Of course, of course. The usual, then."

He moved beside Dipper and the two began to walk, the demon managing to whistle a tune while also humming and speaking. Each note lingered for longer than what Dipper thought could be possible, but then again, demon magic never did make much sense to him.

"Alright, your turn to tempt me, then. Go on, my Holy Savior, get on with it." Bill's intense gaze stayed on Dipper while they walked, the demon effortlessly stepping over any obstacle without turning his head. Perhaps he had also grown used to that path.

"Tonight, I'll tempt you with silence. Keep your mind clear and listen to the world around us." Dipper glanced over at Bill just in time to see the scowl on the blond's face. "I know, it sounds boring. But trust me. Sometimes hearing the gifts of nature we've been given by our god can help remind us that we are treasured by him."

Bill gave an exaggerated eye roll. "Fine, whatever. I'll listen to the birds and the bees. Even though you won't let me demonstrate them."

They both chuckled at that, then fell into silence.

Dipper had no idea how many more years the demon intended to try and tempt him, or even how long he would stick around that night. But he did know that walking next to Bill in the shaded moonlight, listening to the rustling of the leaves and the quiet wildlife, had been better than walking alone.

[dinums]

Secrets and Broken Hearts

-----------------------------

Chapter 4

Thomas Shelby x (Writer) Reader

"I am a woman in love, I wear my heart on my sleeve and smile with not a single thought. I am a woman in love, happily content to where I shall be and where I shall go, as long as I am with him."

Authors Note: I made this story with not much thought, but I wanted to portray the reader and Tommy living their separate lives to have you, readers, have a gist on what its like, to make the character, Ms. Bennett feels real. I don't really know if that makes sense or if I'm doing it correctly, but please enjoy :)))

Two days and six hours, it's been exactly two days and six hours since I've started this investigation that I burdened myself with. All I've been getting are bits of information from the men and women. Women loved to gossip, so much so that they became one of the sources of said information. These missing wives, they had nothing in common with one another. They were just normal working women before they got married and settled down. What would society even do with them? I feel like a jester, juggling my social life together with this secret double life. I never really got used to such taxing activities mentally. This whole investigation, could it be some murderer? Human Traffickers? Surely, this culprit had a motive, a reason, something these women had that they wanted, something these women can give, choice or not.

"Why does everyone call you by your last name?" Andrew suddenly asked, which made me look over at the small child playing by the racks of clothes in William's shop.

Tilting my head, I seem to not know the reason behind it either. Andrew is the son of the man I visited to get close to have more information about the missing wives rather than relying on gossip alone. The child himself was quite entertaining to be around. He spoke so freely about his mother, telling stories of how loving the woman can be.

"Well, if you want, you can call me by my first name," I said with a smile. Walking over to crouch down to his eye level, I gave him a pat on the head, which earned me a smile in return

"Isn't this a sight, hm?" I heard the familiar voice of William from behind. He was at the back with Catherine earlier, presumably sorting out fabrics and dresses.

"C'mon, I've only offered to let this little guy stay here while his father worked, for the assurance that nothing will happen," I said softly though assuming from their reactions, it wasnt taken quite kindly. The statement itself was considered a lie. I lied. Lying straight to the face of the man I love, like how I would every day to everyone, including this child.

"So you don't want me here... Ms. (Y/N)?" Andrew asked me, his face looked sad, eyes like melting glaciers about to fall.

"Of course not, I just meant that I couldn't risk you being alone without your father, even though -"

"So you care for me.. right?" The little child said, hopeful, which made me think, how can he care about my feelings towards him in such a small amount of time we've been together? Children truly are innocent, things to be kept safe from the world we live in. Furthermore, care. To care is to help, a genuine action done out of the kindness of one's own heart. I do that, correct? I think for a moment, my actions, words, and emotions all contradict one another. Both men in the room seemed to take notice of my silence, which in turn made me aware. Aware that they can never know these thoughts, to Bury it, to hide. Breaking from my thoughts, I smiled at the child.

"Of course I do, but later your father will pick you up, I'll have William stay with you since I need to go for a bit, yeah?" Standing back up, I walked over to William. He then wrapped his arms around my waist, leaning against him while I looked back at Andrew. Understandingly, the child nodded, which made me smile.

"Eh? Where will my heart go? Guess she'll leave me alone once again..." William joked, kissing me on the cheek, which made me chuckle.

Seeing the display of affection, the child grimaced and then ran off to play somewhere else, which made me and William laugh.

"I promised you a date. Therefore, you must let me go for a while to prepare," I giggled. Going to dates on Friday was kind of like our tradition, a simple act to show love and to feel it radiate from each other. Feeling his lips on mine for a brief moment, I smiled.

"Alright, I'll pick you up at our place," William smiled. He's always such a loving man, doing more than beyond.

"See you later, love," I said, parting with a kiss before I headed out. Love was something I wasn't familiar with, which sometimes led me to be confused on how to act around William, though lucky enough that he guided me through it.

Walking down the street, I'm greeted with familiar faces. Some I can't remember the names. The smoke filled air, and the mud on my shoes did little to dampen my mood. Suddenly, people started to run about, screaming and shouting.

Confused, I slowed my footsteps. There, on a shop, a lifeless man was dead with Danny holding a bloody knife. My eyes widened, I tried to move, but nothing came out, I held my breath, and though I investigated crimes like this, I never saw a man dead right in front of me. From this day, I'm sure I'll never get used to this.

Someone passes by me, but it can be considered more like shoved. It was Thomas Shelby. He went over, took the knife from the man's hand, and calmed him down. The scene deescalated just as quickly as it happened. Once Thomas got Danny to go away, coming with some surge of confidence, I began to walk towards him with his hack turned to me.

"Mr. Shelby..?" I said softly as to not startle the man, whipping his head back, he looked at me without uttering a word, he simply raised a brow which I took as a cue to keep going.

"What will happen to Danny now..? He just -" stopping myself to look at the dead body in front of us, he followed my gaze and just shook his head. Taking a cigarette, he lit one up and placed it on his mouth, blowing the smoke in the corpses' direction. "Mr. Shelby, I worry for him and his family.."

"Don't stick your nose into others' business, saves you the trouble, eh?" He said, as he was about to walk past me. He took my hand and gave me a few quids, which caused me confusion. Was this for my silence? Though that seems rather odd since a quarter of the town already saw what happened, or was it so I'd stop with being so nosy?

"For the bread."

"Bread? What bread?" I asked, my brows furrowed as I looked up at the man. The more he acted, the more he perplexed me. Seeing his face, he tilted his head as if he should be confused

"You dont remember, again?" I shook my head, remembering what he gave me moments ago, i tried to have him take the money back, but he refused, saying he already gave them, so it'll be no use. In the end, he walked away and left me be, confused, I placed the coins inside my coat pocket before walking home. What did i forget again? No matter what I have other things to do at the moment, I need to get the memory of the dead body out my head.

After preparing for my date, at eight o'clock sharp there was a knock on the door, I smiled and opened it. William appeared with a bouquet and fresh smile, I'm taken back to memories when he was still courting me.

"Flowers for the beautiful lady?" He asked, which I gladly took. Holding up his hand, I held them. I locked the door, and we began to walk towards the pathway to a small restaurant.

"Thank you for this, for everything, Will," I said while we kept walking hand in hand.

"Then I should thank you too"

"For what?"

"For letting me love you"

"Then, you're welcome."

With that, we spent the rest of the day together, I told him about what happened earlier, and he's told me of stories he heard and so on. Everything feels nice. It feels like home as we both made it out to be.

...

That night, Ms. Bennett was content with her lover. Everything played out perfectly. She lived a good life and was happily in love. Maybe fate can say the same for the man she bumped into earlier as he's inside the Garrison, enthralled by the singing Barmaid before him. Surely both Ms. Bennett and Mr. Shelby will live their lives with love found in someone else's eyes.

[mymultiverse00]

Left Behind

This is my first ever Twilight story. I hope you like it!

There are no hiding spots for humans in Volterra Castle, especially when considering its residents. Oh, I can find a dark corner to huddle in for a little while or even go outside to bask in the blazing hot sunshine, but no matter where I go, someone will always find me. They follow my voice, or my scent, or the sound of my wheelchair on the ancient stone floors, and like magic, any hope I had for some blissful solitude is completely shattered. But today is different. Today there are visitors in the castle from far away covens, and suddenly, no one around me can spare me a second glance, not even my mate. That part hurts the most.

I met my mate only six months ago while working in town at the old Volterra library. At the time, I had no real home, no living family, and really, no hope. I was barely eking out a living, limited by both my mobility and my inability to speak the local language. I was depressed and crippled by low self-esteem and severe anxiety. I barely had the will to go on, but then I met Marcus, and everything changed.

Every day for three months the tall, somber man visited me at the library, and slowly the two of us developed a relationship that blossomed into love. He confessed his feelings and his secret one rainy night in my tiny apartment and offered me a future I couldn’t possibly turn down. He moved me into his home and introduced me to his family, and never once was my disability an issue for him. In fact, he went out of his way to make things easier for me. Every day he told me he loved me, and brick by brick, he helped me rebuild my self-confidence and push the depression away.

As soon as I agreed to move in, Marcus started renovating and redecorating his rooms, adding low-profile furniture and other accessible fixtures. He remodeled the bathroom completely, adding grab bars and a roll-in shower with a sturdy teakwood bench across the back wall. He brought in a new bed that had the ability to be raised and lowered at will, along with a mountain of pillows designed to take pressure off my back, hips, and knees, and never once complained about his own discomfort.

He also considered my other human needs, expanding doorways and lowering work surfaces, creating unobstructed pathways to the garden and conservatory, and even convincing Aro to hire a full-time chef to cook my meals. He made it very clear that he wanted to make the remainder of my human life as simple as possible and would stop at nothing to make me happy.

There was only one thing he couldn’t change, however, and I have a hard time holding it against him: the stairs. Volterra Castle is full of ancient stone staircases everywhere you look. Stairs going up to Athenadora and Sulpicia’s rooms; stairs going down to the kitchen and the activity room for the lower guard; stairs keeping me firmly planted on the first floor of the castle at all times.

Normally, stairs are not a huge issue. Marcus took great delight in lifting me up into his strong arms in order to ferry me anywhere I wanted to go. He would loop my arms securely around his neck and pick me up like a bride, sneaking kisses and snuggles all along the way. I would giggle girlishly at his roguish behavior, and he would smile, and maybe we would be late to our destination if we ever made it at all. Today, however, the stairs won.

——————

The morning had been a busy one, with everyone buzzing around the castle, preparing for the arrival of some very important guests. Marcus and his brothers were holding a summit of sorts, and covens from all over Europe would be arriving at noon for two days of festivities. There would be a grand reception this afternoon and evening, and after the meetings ended tomorrow, there would be a lavish ball. This was the first time I would be introduced to such a large group as Marcus’s mate, so I was extremely nervous, but my love had assured me that I would be welcomed by all.

Or at least I would have been, had I been in the throne room with the rest of the group. Somehow, in all the excitement of handshaking and backslapping during the arrival of our guests, everyone forgot about the half dozen steps required to enter the gathering hall, subsequently forgetting about me too.

After 45 minutes of rolling back and forth in front of the doors and occasionally speaking Marcus’s name out loud, hoping to catch his attention, I decided to give up. Obviously, he was too busy to miss my presence, as were Aro, Caius, my sisters, or my friends in the guard. My feelings were hurt, undoubtedly, but seeing no other option, I decided to return to my room and wait for someone to realize I was absent.

No one noticed.

Hours went by without a peep. No one came to look for me, and no one brought me dinner either. I couldn’t get to the kitchen myself because of the goddamned stairs, so there was nothing left for me to do but stay exactly where I was, hidden in the furthest corner of my room’s veranda, trying not to be hungry and trying not to sob out loud as I cried. My heart was aching as the heavy feeling of abandonment settled over me, and my old friend, self-loathing, started creeping in. The next several hours were filled with ugly thoughts and horrible sadness, and though I wanted to resist that darkness, it completely overwhelmed me once more.

——————

It was nearly midnight when I finally heard my mate’s frantic voice calling out for me from our shared bedroom.

“Y/N!” Marcus called, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Y/N? Where are you my love?”

“Out here, Marcus,” I replied listlessly, barely raising my voice as I knew he could hear me. I was mentally and physically drained from the emotional upheaval of the day and made no real effort to emerge from my safe little hiding spot. I could hear how upset I had made him, and I was unsure if I could face him just then.

“My darling!” He cried, finally spotting me and speeding quickly to my side. His eyes quickly scanned me for injury. “Where have you been, little one? I couldn’t find you.”

I looked down at my hands as I answered him, too afraid to look into his eyes. “I’ve been here, Marcus. All day.”

“But why, tresoro?” He took my hands in his. “Did you not want to meet our guests? Many of them came here just to see you.” I could tell he was disappointed in me and my heart broke just a little bit more.

“I-I-I… did want to…” I stammered, “But I couldn’t. There was no way for me to get into the throne room, Marcus. I was left behind,” I concluded quietly, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Left behind?” He questioned.

“Yes.” I paused. “How long, Marcus?” I asked dejectedly.

“How long for what, Y/N? I don’t understand.”

“How long did it take for you to realize I wasn’t there with you, Marcus? 2 hours? 4?”

He closed his eyes as it finally started to sink in. “Y/N, I’m…”

“Disappointed in me?” I whispered. “I understand. I’m sorry, Marcus. I have not been a very good mate to you today, and I have shamed you. I understand why you and the others did not look for me. I have not been an asset to the family.” Tears streamed freely down my face as I tried to apologize for my shortcomings.

“Y/N, no. Please don’t cry.” Marcus begged, crouching down to my level as he tried to comfort me. “It is I who should apologize. It is my duty to look out for you and to protect you. I have failed in that today; I should have remembered you needed help with the steps. There were so many people, and I got caught up….”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” I interrupted with a sob. “No one came for me all day, and I thought I had done something wrong! Maybe I have become too much of a burden on you..”

“Never, amore!” He said with conviction, bending his head low to kiss my hands.

“But it’s true, Marcus! I know it is! Every day you are forced to do things you would never typically do, all because of me,” I said sadly. “You’re the King of Volterra, Marcus! And I have you spending your days babysitting me. You help me in and out of bed; you help me dress; hell, you’ve even had to help me in the shower a time or two! You’re forced to carry me around this castle all day long - and my wheelchair - because I can’t even get myself to the kitchen to feed myself. I’m asking you for too much, and I don’t want you to resent me for it.” My tears were hot and burned my cheeks as they continued to fall. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he soothed. “Come here, darling.” He scooped me out of my wheelchair and into his arms, hugging me tightly to his chest. “Y/N, my heart, I love you! More than anything in the world. You are my mate, and I do all of those things you mentioned before because I want to. I am honored that you allow me to help you throughout the day, and you could never be a burden to me. If anyone should be apologizing here, it should be me! I disappointed you today, and I am sincerely sorry for that. I never want you to feel left behind or unwanted again, and I will spend the rest of our eternity making up for my error today. I will also speak to our contractor about adding some wheelchair ramps where we can and an elevator as well. I should have done so long ago.” He wiped my tears away with the sleeve of his robe. “Can you forgive me, sweetheart? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I nodded slowly against his chest, taking in deep, ragged breaths in an attempt to calm my feelings. I love him so much that not forgiving him was never really an option for me. After a long time, I spoke to him again.

“Marcus?” I asked quietly. “Do you think things will be different… after you change me?”

He smiled at me, gently moving some stray hair out of my eyes before he spoke. He sighed softly, resting his forehead against my own. “I don’t know for sure, my precious one. We have seen vampire venom heal a number of injuries and ailments in the past, sometimes even snatching someone back from the brink of death, like dear Jane and Alec. Every change is different, darling. I want you to know, however, that no matter what the outcome of yours, Y/N, I will always love you and will work to keep you by my side forever.”

“The world’s first vampire in a wheelchair.” I scoffed. “Some claim to fame.”

“How about ‘Queen of Volterra, Mate of King Marcus’ for a claim to fame?” He suggested, gazing at me adoringly.

“That could work,” I giggled, moving to bring our lips together in a tender kiss. “I’m sorry I let my anxiety get the best of me, Marcus.”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, my darling girl. Now, I know it’s late, but we need to get some food for you, and then I believe I can come up with some more… creative ways to apologize to you. Interested?”

“Always.”

The end

[connectionterminated13]

We haven’t talked in a bit soooooo

Any new Elizabeth headcanons that you want to share?

Yes it has been a while. And I do have a couple.

Inferno au-

Liz cannot do ballet to save her life. Like she's extraordinarily bad at that.

Elizabeth used to try to take her toys apart and put them back together again the way her dad does with robots because she hoped that maybe he'd pay more attention to her if she did so.

Every Friday her and Michael would have movie night! Mike would make a big bowl of popcorn and they watched like soap opera movies And adventure films.

Elizabeth used to bake cookies with her mom on Sundays, For church. They used to sing together while they worked it was a lot of fun

Elizabeth tried to "run away" after Susie disappeared to go and find her, William stopped her, Saying that Susie would be back in like a week and that her disappearance was nothing to worry about.

Elizabeth after you're the missing kid's incident Started sitting on the far side of Freddy's as far away from chica as she could get. She doesn't like the way Chika looks at her. It makes her want to cry for some reason.

Elizabeth would never admit it but she was a little bit scared of Evan when he was alive. There was just something different about him she used to actually make fun of him a little bit for being "slow" And stirring off into space. She'd even join Michael in spooking him occasionally.

One of her first thoughts win stealing Michael skin as Ennard Is now she could kiss women!! Since now she was Michael she was technically a man so she didn't Need that plausible deniability thing her dad told her about. She ended up kissing no women though because turns out Mike didn't have a girlfriend sad :(

She went through and was going through in emo phase as scrap baby. Like she's listening to My Chemical Romance on repeand being like "it's just like me for real for real"

As scrap baby she hidden in alley drink a pride parade once

Elizabeth liked to sing and run around her room really really fast when she was bored or grounded.

Elizabeth was going to go to visit her family on her mom's side, The year her mom got sick and later died.

Death swap-

Elizabeth and Susie are semi open with their status as a couple. Like they hold hands and hug outside but they rarely if ever kiss. It's hard being lesbians in the 1990s in Utah....

Elizabeth is a little bit scared of ghosts after getting her organs ripped out by one. Like she tries to be brave but FNAF one is fucking scary for her. Doesn't help that she doesn't like working and hates doing sitting in a chair nothing work more than she hates normal working.

Susie Wants to have kids when they're older like 30-40, Elizabeth kind of does too but She doesn't think she could be a good mom and also gay marriage wasn't legalized yet let alone gay adoption.

Even though Mike Scares her a little bit after the whole scoop thing she still accepts him as her brother and eventually charlie's partner once they get there. Even though it is hard for her to look at him without Illusion disks or human suit on.

Elizabeth cannot do taxes this nearly leads to her death more than once drank fnaf 6.

Lizzie is terrified of the idea that 1 day Suzie will die and she won't. Sure Elizabeth loves her brother and Charlie and their other friends but life without Susie doesn't feel right at least the way she imagines it.

Elizabeth is the professional cool aunt to Michael and charlie's son Gregory. He thinks she's awesome :)

Lizzie and Millie au-

Liz will never admit it but she prefers to spend time with Jen As opposed to her own Step mom.

Liz isolated herself from like having real friends for a long time since she feared that if anyone got too close she'd hurt them the way Her dad hurts Henry.

Elizabeth tries to reason with any horrible monster things her parents have made before like getting rid of them since she genuinely believes that at least most of them don't want to be horrible murder Creatures.

She thinks no one knows that she's a lesbian everybody does.

She knows how to fence! You see William and Abigail put Her and Evan in a lot of extracurricular activities because they didn't want either of them around.

She can and will sit through a horror movie with a completely blank face. She's just not scared easily. For the majority of her life she's been surrounded by glimpses of monsters so movie ones don't really freak her out.

She has a distinct disdain for Evan's friend Andrew because he's annoying and evan start springing him around the house like often just to annoy her .

Elizabeth envies Millie a lot since she comes from a relatively normal home and Can Express herself more

I imagine that Elizabeth and Millie au, Is like a mystery of the book kind of thing. Like you know it's formatted like a book series of maybe 10 books and each 1 there's 1 big overworking spooky monster that they need to fight/figure out the weakness of. (Not really a head cannon just wanted to add that in here)

[scoonsalicious]

I’m gonna be honest but seriously for the first time i thought about how i would react if i was Bucky. surprisingly I’m not mad at him anymore. Tbh if my boyfriend set me couple rules and told me they give me a second chance after i did something bad and THEN i saw them(is their pov an article) that he and MY best friend are hooking i would be fucking furious and in the heat of the moment maybe would do the same.

Like why would you give me hope when you gonna vividly cheat??in the chapter it said the photos looked like they were kissing so it was like a solid proof of cheating and given Steve interest in her i honestly don’t blame Bucky. Give him a break that guy went to hell and back. And then found the shittiest coping mechanisms to deal with his trauma which only hurt him more and then seeing his golden best friend with his gf? Every sane human can see Bucky never actually were interested in jade he just kinda used her to act like he is a normal man that can be actually wanted and not just someone with troubled past that many would want to nothing to do with.

And pocket should be off mission . She is unstable and an addict at this point and needs therapy, her boyfriend and a hug.

And it’s funny i always thought Bucky is the most realistic character in marvel and i feel the same with him in your story.

Love your writing you make them seem so real that all of us get lost to it for a min🤍

Jesus Christ, thank you so much! That is exactly where he was coming from! Like, he tried-- he really did. He was doing what Pocket wanted, he was staying away. And then Carthage is just.. thrust upon him. And he does the right thing. He tells Pocket, immediately, and lets her know what's up, he talks about it with her, gets her advice, and they come up with this gameplan, together-- he will only speak Jade about the mission. And then! Just a few hours later, those articles. For him, it looked like she (Pocket) couldn't wait for him to be out of the country. I didn't explore it in-story (so much stuff that I make up doesn't end up in-story, lol), but one of the things I had had him think about was wondering if Pocket faked being sick so she could stay behind. It's literally his worst fear come to life, after he felt like a failure for not keeping through on his promise to stay away from Carthage. He felt he was being punished, and so he made a stupid, angry decision to get back at her. It's dumb, but he's flawed. He's never wanted Jade (she IS the Unwanted in Unwanted, lol).

And Pocket should definitely be off mission. I can promise it's not going to last much longer (hell, the whole fic isn't going to last much longer ::weeps::), but there's maybe only two days of the mission left.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I will not add anything to that last reply because it was absolutely CHEF’S KISS— we love our sad man getting some well deserved cuddles from his baby <3

But I will go back to our talk from this morning/last night/whatever time it was for you then about Joel’s wife

I actually realized I got my math wrong (very surprising 😐) and Sarah was actually FOURTEEN when she died in the show which makes Joel becoming a dad at TWENTY TWO!!!!!!!! Anyways

Totally agree on everything you said but if I can just add: if the mom (let’s call her that because it’s shorter and I’m a lazy ass) had ever voiced the SLIGHTEST discomfort or fear or whatever, Joel would’ve been right next to her, trying to figure out a way to lighten the weight on her shoulders.

She says she doesn’t feel like herself anymore? It’s okay babe, take a bath and I’ll put the baby to sleep and make you some dinner

She says all her friends are traveling and having fun and enjoying their 20s? No problem, I’ll watch the baby tonight and you can catch up with the girls

She says she feels depressed—probably postpartum depression— and being around the baby is too much because she feels like she’s failing? Joel makes sure to help whenever and wherever he can, reminds her that she’s a real fucking force of nature and he’s proud of her; he doesn’t care if he has to say it ten times a day, he’ll say it how many times she needs to hear it

She says she doesn’t know how she can handle all this when he’s away all day? He’ll take all his lunch breaks to spend some time home even if it means barely eating anything and he’ll try to come home as much as he can AT THE SAME TIME he will be taking as many shifts as possible because let’s say the mom is finishing college or she wants to finish her studies or whatever so she can’t work and bring money

Joel doesn’t care about exhaustion or sounds cheesy or whatever, all he cares about is his family.

BUT THEN she just gets tired of it. This is not the life for her. She didn’t even want a kid in the first place and now she has to sacrifice her entire life? She kept it because Joel seemed so happy about it, because even if they would be tight on the money and he’d give up the “young, married couple” phase, they’d have a baby— a mini human half him, half her and he couldn’t see the bad side to that.

And when she leaves, Joel is so lost.

Every night, baby Sarah wakes up and she misses her mama so much. She asks for her constantly. She cries. Piercing screams that break his heart over and over again. Joel has no idea what to do. How can he explain to a baby what’s going on?

And he’s exhausted. He works days and nights, barely has time to eat or shower or do any normal human thing. He’s up for night bottles and he has to figure out how to care for the baby when she’s sick and no one can watch her.

But, the worst part are the night when she wakes up and all she wants is her mommy. Because it’s the moments where joel feels the most useless, the most incapable of dealing with it.

He can’t replace her mom, he can’t calm down his baby because what she needs is the only thing he can’t give her.

And it makes him feel so powerless.

There are some night where he feels like giving up. It’s too much for one person to handle. Sarah deserves a real family. A mom and a dad who know what they’re doing. Not some 20 something fucker who gets the wrong diaper size half of the time.

But then…then he brings her to bed with him and she falls asleep on his chest, tightly holding onto his thumb.

And Joel knows he can’t give that up. It’s hard. It’s so hard he can’t see the end of it. But he adores that little girl. She’s all he has. She’s his entire world and he would snatch the moon and all the stars in the sky if it means seeing the toothy smile and hear the soft “dada” and have her lay on his chest a bit longer.

So Joel carries on. He becomes the dad and the mom, the nurse, the hairdresser, the teacher. Everything a child needs.

Sometimes he messes up, sure. But he learns from his mistakes and yeah, he even gets some help.

The nice teacher notices how Sarah’s pigtails aren’t quite on the same level but she knows about Joel’s situation so she tells him “hey, if you bring her a bit early in the morning with a brush and some hair ties, I can do that for you or at least show you”

The dad next door makes sure to invite Joel for BBQs and always invite Sarah on saturdays to play with the kids, that way Joel can go to work and come home with a bathed, fed and happy child.

Tommy always helps for tea parties, birthdays, whenever he can give a hand because yeah, his big brother has been through too much shit to just deal with everything all by himself—even if sometimes he’s too proud to ask for help

So my point is, Sarah’s mom, really screw you. And Joel, baby, I’m proud of you and I love you, you’re doing a great job <3

Now all I can think about is Joel with a baby on his chest... damn you!!!!!!!!!!! 😫😫😫😫

I feel like the fact itself that he tried so hard and she still left him would absolutely break him. Because he would be there thinking that maybe he missed something, maybe he still didn't do enough, maybe he is just not good enough as it is. It would mess with his head so bad. But yeah... Joel has to stay strong for Sarah and I feel like all the little smiles, giggles that she would give Joel would make it all one hundred times better. He knows that he would never be able to give Sarah up. Now it's Joel and Sarah against the world.

[magical-mistakes-vm]

11

By the time that Baldur and Elmar came back into the room, Mahala was sitting up on the couch and leaning against Vollrath’s shoulder with his arm around her.  Elmar’s jacket was now on the back of one of the conference table chairs and had been replaced by Vollrath’s.  The two friends looking over at the couple couldn’t remember any time in their long friendships that they’d seen Vollrath like that with a woman.  They could only hope that this wasn’t a mistake on any of their parts.

“Is she feeling better?” It was Elmar who spoke and walked in to slip on his jacket again.  He stood at the end of the room, not really wanting to test the waters after earlier. Even having noticed the jealousy building in Vollarath, he could not have anticipated the reaction that had eventually happened.  Normally when irritated, his friend had a more verbal or physical reaction.  That it had ended up being a mystical one, and one that injured an innocent party, did bother Elmar.

“I am.  And from now on when you two piss him off, he’s going to take it out on you, not me.” Mahala’s voice sounded tired, but at least her head no longer felt like it was in a vice.  Vollrath had at least remedied that for her in ways that she still did not fully understand.  Magic was real, she was a witch, and the man that she was inexplicably drawn to was a powerful warlock…that was going to take a little bit to sink completely in..  “I don’t appreciate what either of you did, even if that hadn’t happened.  I want that completely clear. I was nothing but polite and respectful to both of you, and did not deserve to be used in some…” her eyes closed as she sought for the right word to use.  She was frustrated and that and the remnants of the headache made it hard for her to be as eloquent as normal.

Vollrath leaned over, kissing her temple and adding some extra healing as he did, to try to help. The look he was giving both Baldur and Elmar made it clear that he was still enraged, but controlling himself for her sake. He was not going to cause her one drop more of pain, even if he could remove it afterward.  The two men, well, that was a different story for a different time.

Finally Mahala’s eyes opened and she stood, a bit unsteady and using Vollrath’s shoulder for balance.  “Baldur, Elmar, her head turned slightly as she addressed them each.  “I am not a pawn to be used in some kind of game that you play with your friend to see if you can cause a reaction.  I am not a button to be pressed or a toy that can be manipulated to see if you can make him have a temper tantrum.  I am a living, breathing, human who also just so happens to be a witch coming into your coven, and what you did was not only unfair, it was insulting and demeaning. My mother fled from the Codona mansion either slightly before or right after I was born, she hid my abilities as well as her own from me for my entire life, and now I’m wondering if she was fleeing this Coven.”

Both Baldur and Elmar realized their gross miscalculation in their earlier actions on both a personal level and as leaders of the Coven.  While they had just seen how it was affecting Vollrath and been acting to get a reaction at his expense, they now saw how that looked to Mahala.  She was a new witch, who had faced off against Vollrath, of all warlocks, in the dark the night before and came out with him almost worshiping at her feet.  Yet she walks into their office the next day and they treat her as something just to get a rise out of their friend.  

“Mahala, I’m sorry.” Baldur said.  He now felt the regret he had seen etched in every line of his friend’s face when he’d left the office.  “We made a grave mistake in how we treated you, and I feel bad about it.” It was an honest statement and he knew that there was no way to step back and make it better now.  Forward would be different.

“You damn well should.” She was not going to give an inch, and she wanted that clear to both of them. “You behaved so juvenilely in this office that you should both be ashamed.  Save any further words, because the only redemption you’ll earn will be through actions.”  She looked at both of them and sighed heavily.  Mahala was feeling exceedingly tired, no doubt lingering effects from what had happened a short time prior in the office.  “I had really hoped to come here today and for things to go well.  It seems…I hoped in vain.” Her eyes and head tipped forward simultaneously, feeling a bit of defeat.  The previous night had shown her that she could not handle everything herself, she had hoped that the three of them would help her.  The only consolation was that Vollrath still would, even if the other two decided to bow out.

There was a slight wobble in Mahala’s balance, and Vollrath was on his feet in an instant with his arm around her waist to steady her.  Both of his friends had seen the kiss to her forehead that had almost seemed a completely natural action, and now how quickly he had just reacted was unlike anything they had witnessed as well.  There could be no missing that there was more at work than just simple attraction.  Physical attraction alone did not make such drastic changes to someone’s behavior overnight, not to someone as set in his ways as Vollrath was.  Mistakes had certainly been made on their part to agitate him. 

“Please sit and rest sweetheart, let me get you a snack and some tea.  You need to get your blood sugar up.”  Vollrath helped her to relax back onto the couch before placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.  Then walked towards the other men, his eyes hard and face serious.  “Walk with me gentlemen.  Let’s talk in another room for a minute.  I think the three of us have upset her enough for one day.”  His brows rose as he passed them and headed through the door.  Both men followed without a word, they knew an order when they heard one.

[mementomori42069]

A little thing I wrote in class about my character Pers :3

I

V

It wasn't supposed to happen again. Pers had thought it through, he had thought he had fixed the one hitch that had been constantly taunting him his entire life. How often did he have to go through the same dread of figuring out different social norms and become desensitized to what he thought was true but proven fallacious? Too many to count in his opinion. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to get home. So what if everyone he knew could barely remember the syllables of his name? At least he would know who he was again.

Shuddering while looking at the ground beneath him, Pers shifted a foot as if hoping, praying, begging, for any of this to be a sick and cruel joke. The jarring sound of boots and rocks scrapping together echoed out through the area. Not that he would have heard it, the sound of ringing would be enough to drown out any sane thoughts the purple-haired man may have. The ground was unfortunately as real as he hoped it wouldn't be. Was he home? No, he couldn't ever get home. It was a few meaningless words he chanted to himself at night as if it would ever happen. It wouldn't, he knew that.

The cold air of winter swept by like snowflakes kissing along his hair, almost resembling that of a child´s drawing. The scene would be one to give any normal person a sense of childlike wonder or nostalgia. Pers was unfortunately abnormal himself. He was a man often plagued by his intelligence, a person sane to the point of insanity. Traveling to so many worlds had brought him to believe he knew all there was to ¨Humanity¨ but was proven wrong time and time again. Over time words had tended to lose meaning to Pers. Society, beliefs, and humans. All of it meant nothing to him anymore. Everything blurred together like some form of multiperspectivity that would seem impossible to others.

Breathing seemed more like a chore at this moment. Each cold inhale of ice crystal-induced oxygen brought a sense of burning dread into Pers’ lungs. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, and repeat. Repeat. The word kept playing in his mind like a skipping record. Repeating was all he'd ever done his entire life. Immortality seems like a blessing given from the heavens themselves, right? Wrong. Immortality was a curse hanging like a dull guillotine over an individual's neck. Each fall whose purpose was to cut the breath of life was only creating an abrasion against the nape, always failing to deliver the final plunge.

It was only a moment after Pers realized he hadn't been breathing at all, causing him to fall to the snow with a sharp heave. He clutched a pale hand to his chest, the other resting against the soft yet burning snow on the terrain. He hadn't realized just how bad he had been shaking the entire time, the fact he was even able to stand at first was a miracle in itself. At least the snow was something he was used to, no, something he knew. It was the same as it was supposed to be (Though the surrounding green and flourishing plants during winter seemed otherwise). One more deep gasp was all it took for Pers to regain just a shred of himself, gaining enough common sense to look up. It seemed mid-day, that was a relief. That meant the possibility of something he was supposed to see as humans could be awake and willing to talk. If he knew their language, that is. Did he even want to talk to these people? Pers asked himself this every time he dreadfully opened his eyes. What was the point of trying to steady yourself in a new world if you knew it would be for nothing?

(This is the sad old man in question)

I also have no clue how I'm supposed to post writting stuff so🧍 I didn't really proof read it to so😔

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

io . i could kiss u

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 waking up to this was the greatest treat i could’ve asked for???? io you’re always sooo so sweet and thoughtful and i feel like we’re always on the same wavelenght when it comes to this lil guy ….. all the different aspects of his godhood and existence and what that means for him and the connections he makes in life!!

i just!! felt so giddy reading your annotations and getting to experience your thoughts!!!! T—T gna comment on most of them obv but i NEED you to know that every single comment from you means the world to me!!! i was smiling like an idiot reading this n sipping on my coffee …. feeling like this One siken quote rn:

^^^^ this is me @ io constantly every single day btw <333 mwah mwah MWAH i am kissing your forehead softly . anyway let’s get into it !!!

this was so soft omg — hyacinths are my favorite flower n { n tulips n chrysanthemums } i could literally see myself in a tiny quaint kitchen with the delicate scents in my nose as i pass — n the espresso? bliss is correct. mundane pleasure i could feel. all comfy inside.

ANOTHER HYACINTH LOVER LET’S GOOO 🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂 those flowers are all so iocoded!!!!! when i think of you i immediately think of lavender for some reason…. any kinda purple or dark blue flower really…… but tulips and chrysanthemums too!!!! so perfect for you hehe 🌷🌷🌷 <- here r some lovely tulips for a lovely girl :33

your descriptions of surroundings and the outside world is genuinely unmatched. this is poetry. 😭🙏🏾 what we live for! (…) literally murmured, "pretty" out loud lol. (…) PRETTY PRETTY PROSE. ari i want to be woven into the seam of all your metaphors and imagery fr.

YOU’RE SOOOO KIND I MELTED INTO A PUDDLE… i hope you realize how big of a compliment this is coming from you 😭😭 your poetry inspires me sm all the time…… i am gently weaving you into my metaphors as requested so pls let me live inside of yours too <33333

i really love this bc yes this man is so god he is man. using reader's almost naivety to explore the perception of his godhood vs the truth of his divine humanity is gold btw.

AAAAA I’M SO GLAD 😭😭😭🥺🥺 you get it!!!! i think satoru and his not-quite godhood is the most interesting thing about him….. more on this later probably? but my own take on satoru is that he’s a normal human who had godhood forced onto him. just a normal boy forced to be holy. but ofc he never becomes an actual god…. he’s a silly little human man who likes sweets and laughter and has no choice but to bear the burden of being the closest thing this world has to a god .

he makes me insane btw 😔😔😔

i really loved that the world wakes up the moment he opens his eyes bc to me { being that i love him so bad ukno } he is the world.

SO REALLLLLL YOU GET IT !!! that was how i intended the line too hehe :33 when he wakes up the world has no choice but to follow!!! or maybe it’s the other way around….. hm hmmm

your opening lines are genuinely beautiful, poetic bangers. what a way to unfurl a new scene!

🥺🥺 io i’m really just picking out every single comment atp but. they’re all so sweet!! how could i not!!!! this is soooo reassuring to hear too….. i never quite know how to start or end scenes so i just kinda wing it 😭😭 so happy you enjoy the opening lines!!! <333

if my hot coworker is satoru n i have the chance to stare longingly at him, what am i gonna do when i could stare at a god man with angel wings for lashes? lol satoru take care of me i’m hurt 😔👉🏾👈🏾 [ ”scratch that — gojo is downright cackling.” ] i’ll still box that man n win.

PJDJDJDHDUHFUFUF IOOOOOO THE SHIFT HERE MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD YOU HAVE NO IDEA 😭😭😭😭 I SUPPORT YOU FULLY BOX THAT MAN FOR ALL HE’S WORTH!!! show him who’s boss!!!!!!! pdhdkdjd…. you’re so real and so cute satoru BETTER treat you right!!

ANOTHER BANGER DESCRIPTIVE PARAGRAPH I LOVE HOW YOU DESCRIBE HIS LAUGH AS WOLFISH N EMPHASIZE THE SHARPNESS IN HIS TEETH AS HE KINDA SMILES ARIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII ARI PLS GIVE ME A BREAK FROM COPY AMD PASTING LMAO

LMAOOO I’M SORRY 😭😭😭 i am so so happy that you liked that part though!!!! ngl i was giggling and kicking my feet writing it …… shamefully…… i’m just too in love w the idea of his genuine laughter 😔 i really do think it’s so wolfish and deep and giddy……. sighhhh i fear he’s too endearing io. we need to put him down.

i think this might be a contender for my favorite bars of the fic fr. you know i love a good celestial reference and he is such a star boy. cosmic boy. angel boy!!! just etherealllllll!

EEEEEEE i was hoping you’d like that line!!!!!! when i saw that you rbd this i instantly thought of it 😭 celestial references are sooo io to me. he really is an angel boy… a star boy………

ari the way i got so shy i got butterflies he’s so charming n frustrating n i like him a lot.

REALLLLLLLLLLLL i was also blushing writing this 😭😭 ISN’T HE SO SICKENINGLY CHARMING… sighhhh it’s so hard to be in love with him bc he’ll annoy you SO much but then he smiles at you all softly and bares his heart a bit n it’s like. oh. I FEEL SO ACCOMPLISHED THAT IT GAVE YOU BUTTERFLIES THOOO <3333

OPE WAIT WE HAVE ANOTHER CONTENDER THIS FUCKING ATE ARI????????? oh my god now i understand what you mean when you say you wish you could eat certain poetry bc i want to swallow this whole and make it part of me. 😭😭😭😭😭

YOU’RE TOO KINDDDD i’m gonna be repeating this a bunch but 😔 it’s true!!!! i am just a little guy……… so honoured that anything i make can resonate w you <3333 gojo and icarus make sense to me……. as a pair…….. i’m not sure why though. but i’m super happy that you liked it wahhh :’3 !!!!

the way this hit so fucking hard after all the references to him being this untouchable god. it was the epiphany for both of them lowkey. satoru asking himself that, too, i fear.

YES YES YESSSS YOU GET IT …. io my dearest my comrade my beloved !!!!! you understand 🫂🫂 i was hoping for that line to be kind of a slap 2 the face… but like. a gentle one!!! because i think it’s so easy to look at satoru and his strenght and his fame and turn him into a god but it’s so cruel :((( and i think reader felt a bit ashamed at their moment of epiphany…. something about forcing a man to be a god is just . sooo twisted and interesting to me… AND YOU’RE SO RIGHTTT satoru is for sure asking himself the same question!!! is he a god? is he a human? does it matter when people have already decided that for him?

ari no no no no no m'gonna dissolve into a puddle of tears i feel so bad for him. the quiet tears my fucking heart i just want to hold him so fucking close 😭

☹️☹️☹️ one final somber ”real”……….. seeing him break down like that would break me down too!!! and the quiet tears aaaa you noticed…….. i’m holding him AND you close we could all use a hug cmere 🫂🫂🫂🫂

IOOOO i hope you can feel my love and gratitude rn but if not!!!!! pls just know that i love you. you’re such a sweet kind person and these annotations made me so happy to read 🥺🥺 tysm for reading this and taking the time to share your thoughts!!! andddd for just being so sweet and fun to talk 2 :3

you are somebody that i want to keep ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you aren't sure what you have with satoru gojo, but you know that it’s good.

word count; 6.7k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, colleagues to friends to something unlabelled, you love each other though!!, fluff, hurt/comfort, very very soft, reader falls first but gojo falls harder, both of u are afraid of intimacy lol, a lil angsty if u squint, satoru gojo cherishing u for ~7k words straight <3

a/n; basically just a collection of moments between you and gojo throughout the years <33 (a significant amount of time has passed between each part!!) hes an emotionally repressed loser but i love him and he is smitten w u.

in the soft luminescence of daybreak, your kitchen looks something like a dream.

tainted with a hazy sunshine, simmering with warm colours and pleasant scents, it almost seems to sparkle in the peripheral of your vision. brimming with that feeling of home, a home you’ve broken your bones building, desperate to shape it into something safe. 

and you think you’ve done a pretty good job. all these comforting sensations bleeding into each other; hyacinths blooming by the windowsill, espresso-flavored steam wafting up to the roof, soft meows stemming from the cats by your feet. bliss.

indulging in a peace yet to shattered by the strain of the working world, you rub the sleep from beneath your weary eyes, blinking and yawning like a drowsy child.

beyond the translucent glass of your windows, glimmering with the light of a sun soon to rise, the world is painted pink and indigo — save for that one hint of gold, a streak of honey slathered across the surface of the sky. fluffy clouds drift through the chilly air, melting in the wake of a new day, and you think they look a bit like tufts of cotton candy. soft enough to sink your teeth into, if only the glass wasn’t in the way. keeping the cold out.

it’s a new day. a pleasant morning, sitting comfortably on the brink of dawn, before the city has a chance to rouse from its slumber. a kind of solitude you so rarely get to bask in. 

a false solitude, really. because, for once, there’s another human being in your home — one you don’t know nearly as well as you’d like, for him to be fast asleep on your couch, cheek smushed against the leather. snoring softly. 

satoru gojo.

like this, he looks very… human. vulnerable. hair just slightly tousled, from tossing and turning on your not-so-comfortable couch, blindfold only covering one of his eyes and close to slipping off entirely. his expression has melted into one of something vaguely resembling relaxation, as close to unguarded as you assume he can physically get.

even in his sleep, he looks a little stiff. not entirely at peace. like a stray cat sleeping under the hood of a car. 

(you’re curious. fascinated, maybe, by the loneliness that clings to the strongest person in the universe. by the paradoxical innocence of his grin.)

honestly, everything from last night is kind of a blur. you remember accompanying the strongest sorcerer on a mission, one long enough to leave you completely and utterly spent, fatigue nestled deep into your bones. remember gojo getting a sudden migraine, so earth-shattering that you thought he was going to keel over and throw up in the middle of the street.

then you remember bringing him back home with you. very hesitantly, only after he begrudgingly accepted the fact that he didn’t have much of a choice. because you were fucking exhausted, and so was he, and your apartment happened to be conveniently close. remember him practically passing out on your couch, still somehow managing to crack a bad joke you can’t recall, while you went to collapse into the comfort of your bed.

and now you’re here. dyed in half-transparent sunbeams, caffeine bubbling in your veins, gazing at your sleeping coworker from your spot by the kitchen table. waiting for the world to open its weary eyes.

it’s still early. some part of you expects him to sleep a while longer, but you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when gojo begins to stir.

a splotch of sunshine splatters across your living room window, staining the floorboards, falling over the contours of his pretty face. in the light, he looks positively holy; white lashes, pale skin, plump lips. like a goddess.

(when he opens his eyes, it’s even worse. a single iris cracked open, pooling with unbridled brilliance. eyes so blue they seem to cut through the stillness of the air.)

— and the world wakes up.

a little groan slips from his lips, barely audible. with groggy movements, he brings a hand up to his face, obscuring the grating light of the sun flitting in. you think you can almost see the gears of his mind turn, as he takes notice of his surroundings, remembering what transpired just hours before.

faster than you thought, he regains some semblance of composure. huffing under his breath, as he forces himself into a sitting position. 

it feels a little wrong, to see the closest thing this world has to a god act so human. be so human. morning-fatigued, just like you, wearing droopy eyelids and a soft, sleepy pout. a little disheveled. groggy with lost dreams.

when his gaze meets yours, you can’t control the breath that hitches pitifully in the back of your throat. a meek skip of your heartbeat, like you just saw something you shouldn’t have. oops.

gojo cracks a grin.

“.. watchin’ me sleep?” he calls out, cheeky. paired with a drowsy yawn. composed, unbothered, but there’s something almost performative about it, something you’re sure you’d miss if he wasn’t still in the process of collecting himself. 

“good morning,” is all you offer him. ignoring his teasing remark. he doesn’t push it, to your surprise. “sleep well?”

a hum. absentminded, jovial. one of his large hands goes to adjust his blindfold, the other to fluff up his hair. kicking off the blanket you just barely had the energy to throw over him last night. your fluffiest one, warm enough to protect him from the chill gnawing at the windows. hopefully.

“like a log,” he quips, stretching idly, muscles straining under his baggy uniform. they must be sore, after that mission. or maybe he’s above such things.

choosing not to comment on his obvious lie, you put your lips against the ceramic of your cup. sipping from the bitter brew, a tinge of hazelnut on your tongue. letting him gather his bearings without you scrutinizing him. a little favor, one liar to another.

“thanks for letting me crash,” he grins, lazy. toothy. stumbling to his feet with a low groan, gaze flitting around the room — looking for the exit. “i’ll get outta your hair,” he mutters, and you raise a brow.

“not staying for breakfast?”

gojo stills. your question rings out, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, into the living room.

his smile twitches, ever so slightly, in what you think must be surprise. then it’s back to normal; like putting on a mask, not allowing a sliver of weakness to slip through the cracks. he exhales a raspy chuckle, a sound that flows through the air and crawls down your spine.

”generous, aren’t you?” he hums, voice rich with amusement. dappling sunlight licks at the white locks of his hair.

you shrug. “i wouldn’t mind the company.”

the words climb up the walls of your throat, a little reckless, eager to catch a glimpse of the miracle before you. satoru gojo, framed by the simplicity of your home — somewhat hard to let go of. sunkissed skin, restless hands. a little out of tune. shifting from foot to foot, eager to get away.

(a little like a frightened fawn, you amuse yourself by thinking. he’s really more like the fox who scared it.)

you think he must be bit uncomfortable. forced to spend the night in a coworker’s apartment, one he doesn't even know that well, one he probably doesn’t have any intention of getting to know. still trying to politely excuse himself. persistent, stubborn.

maybe he didn’t expect this. maybe he was convinced he could sneak away, before you had a chance to wake up. maybe he thought you’d be all too eager to let him leave, and never speak of this again. maybe he’s not used to being wanted. 

“ha… i’m flattered, believe me, but —“

“what do you usually eat?” you ask. cutting him off, gently, tapping your fingertips against the edge of the table. “for breakfast, i mean. i’ll whip something up.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you can’t put your finger on it, but something about it bothers you. “really, there’s —“

“if you’re worried about inconveniencing me, don’t be.” you pause, unsure of what to say. but the words end up spilling out of your throat, oddly honest. ”it’s been a while since i had the chance to make breakfast for someone else.” 

it’s strange, really, how intent you are on seeing this through. how much effort you’re putting into making him stay. you barely even know him. actually, you don’t know him at all — all you know is that his smile makes you happy and his strength makes you envious. that you aren’t afraid of him, even though you probably should be.

something about him just feels safe.

“i’m pretty good at making pancakes,” you hum, a small smile playing at your lips. polite, jovial. pale light flits in through the window and slips into its curve. ”do you want some? before we go to work.”

(something in his fingers twitch, when you say that tiny word; pancakes. a little tell. you just barely catch it, before it sputters out. before he reels it back in.)

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, a rubber band bound to snap.

gojo stands there, a very subtle contemplation etched into his features. behind him, your cats begin to scratch at the couch, but you don’t scold them. just waiting for something to happen. beyond the glass of your windows, the sun unfurls in the sky, stretching its arms to envelop the world.

he grins, suddenly. soft light reflecting off the white of his teeth. cocky, composed. not quite performative, a little more natural.

“well, if you insist.”

he strolls over to your side, just a tiny bit sluggish, lazy steps and comically long limbs. he must still be tired. but he takes a seat, right across from you, plopping down on the chair with an effortless air of confidence. lighthearted, leaning his elbows on the table, crossing his legs under it. comfortable. settling into his role.

you’re pleasantly surprised.

“how would you like them?” you ask, wondering if maybe a bit too much excitement ended up spilling out with the question. if it did, gojo doesn’t comment on it. ”your pancakes.”

“with chocolate chips, please!” he shoots you a sweet smile. “and whipped cream on top.” 

so demanding. for some reason, it makes the corners of your lips quirk up. kinda like a bratty younger brother.

“got it.”

the smell of dark chocolate hangs heavy in the air as you get to work, shuffling around the open space. all while gojo waits, patiently, tapping his foot under the table and staring out the window. leaning his jaw on the heel of his palm. listening to the humming of nightingales on the branches of the apple tree down on the ground, and the buzz of your old radio.

the kitchen fills with motion, sounds, smells. life. splotches of sunlight, crinkled cartons of orange juice. the clinking of plates. two tired adults, seated at the same table, indulging in a fleeting peace and the promise of something new. something almost concrete.

a small, precious moment. enough to make your fascination shift into something you know must be fondness. or close to it. 

gojo grins at you, mouth full of pancakes, eagerly telling you about something the kids did last week. wolfing them down, chocolate smeared over his bottom lip. you laugh, and suddenly the world feels a little safer than it should. a little more intact.

you wonder what it means. where it’s going to lead. this feeling of something wonderful beginning, something you couldn’t stop if you wanted to.

a budding connection.

the city lays blanketed beneath a layer of thick snow. blurry pale dots dancing in the wind, obscuring the sky, frost engulfing every building in a bone chilling hug.

with a slight shiver, you dig your hands into the comfort of your pockets, seeking the fleeting warmth you find. admiring the frozen landscape before you, the hustle and bustle of people going about their day. the saffron light of the lamp posts, the glittering snow by your feet, the skeletal apricot trees and their bare branches. this monochrome city you find yourself in.

gojo exhales. strolling cheerily down the street, in tandem with you, a frosty breath to your left that scatters and melts into the open air. it smells minty.

today, he’s wearing black shades — like he usually is when you meet outside of work. it’s kind of nice. when you angle your face a certain way, you can almost see the blue pooling in his eyes, the white of his eyelashes. 

he’s beautiful. he always has been. but like this, you think his beauty is simply unfair, highlighted by the winter wonderland you find yourselves in. mesmerizing, the red flush of his cheeks, how he hums along to some jolly tune playing from a little corner store further down the street. all bundled up, in a stylish overcoat and a nice scarf, untouched by the snowflakes fluttering about. 

protected by his infinity, always. the silly god you call a friend.

he looks content, despite the cold that keeps nipping at your bare skin, smiling widely. blabbing on about the movie you’re about to watch, how he saw it back in high school but never thought it’d get a remake. how his friend thought it sucked but that friend always had bad taste so his opinion is irrelevant. how he has faith that you’ll like it.

(cute.)

distracted by the pretty man so close by, close enough to touch, you don’t look ahead. maybe just a little bit entranced. which would be fine, if you didn’t happen to be walking on the right side of the street — 

crashing straight into a lamp post.

”owch!”

it’s sudden. and it’s a harsh collision, enough to leave your nose stinging, an ache that makes you whine. cursing under your breath as you take a couple steps back, hands reaching for the part of your face that took the brunt of the hit. 

and gosh, is this embarrassing. you dance on the edge of death for a living, and here you are — whining over walking into a fucking lamp post. because you were too enamored by the beauty of your own coworker to pay attention to your surroundings. 

a coworker who is currently looking at you, silently. having failed to warn you in time, stuck in his own memories, caught up in his in-depth, spoiler-filled review of a movie he’s been waiting to watch all week. 

for a moment, all he does is blink. long eyelashes fluttering, like a dove flapping its wings. 

then he starts laughing.

scratch that — gojo is downright cackling, thoroughly amused by your clumsy mishap, like he just saw the funniest thing in the world. laughter ringing out into the cold air, white breaths to compliment the red of your burning ears.

asshole.

with a harsh furrow of your brows, you attempt to look angry; but before long, your lips are curling up. infected by his joy. a soft punch to his shoulder is all you manage, biting back a little puff of laughter. you’re embarrassed.

(so embarrassed you don’t even notice how he puts his infinity down.)

”don’t laugh, you piece of shit!” you hiss, grinning even still, flushing and trying to ignore the curious glances you get from passersby. ”it really hurt!”

but gojo doesn’t stop. doesn’t even attempt to. you think he just grew even more amused, if anything, practically bending over from how hard he’s laughing — clutching his stomach.

”sorry, sorry — ’m just…” he tries to speak, taking deep breaths in between bursts of giggles. ”how the hell — how’d you —” 

he stops trying. laughing, again.

and it’s a genuine laugh. a little wolfish, spilling out from his pretty parted lips, showing off his sharp teeth. from the very bottom of his gut, clear and bright, deep and infectious. melodic. shades close to slipping off the bridge of his nose, eyes tearing up behind them. trying to collect himself, muffled giggles turning to soft vapour in the cold air. dimples visible on his rosy cheeks.

and suddenly you can't think, can't speak, can only look at him and wonder how a human can be so very beautiful. how it’s metaphysically possible. like a crushed cluster of stars was given human form, a body of celestial light.

he looks so young, like this. a millenia younger, no weight on those broad shoulders, no immovable wall to separate you both. he looks like one of the guys you used to hang out with in middle school, running through corridors and play fighting and holding back shared laughter in the library. before the bite of the world left a mark in your skin.

he looks like himself. like someone pulled the mask off, and all that’s left is the human. none of the godhood he was saddled with at birth.

while you’re busy staring, gojo finally finds his composure again. wiping at his glassy eyes, a chuckle slipping out here and there. distracted by the breathtaking sight, you begin to forget the sting of your collision — until you feel something warm trickle down your chilled skin. 

searching for it with the pads of your fingers, you feel a trail of wetness beneath your nose. and when you bring them down, to get a look, all you see is red. 

”ah.”

gojo moves closer. maybe just a little alarmed, by the blood dripping from your nose, staining the white of the snow beneath your feet. a chilling contrast, one you’re frighteningly used to. it’s almost comforting. blood on your skin, that sting of pain clogging up your nose, enough for you to get lost in. colours melting together, memories rising to the surface —

when suddenly, something touches your cheek. 

one large hand goes to keep your jaw in place, gentle. smooth leather, sneaking under your chin, lifting your face up ever so slightly. warmth trickles from his fingertips through the fabric, and you can smell a hint of his perfume. strawberries and vanilla.

gojo looks at you fondly. wiping the blood from your nose, smudging his expensive gloves. from this angle, you can see his eyes, a blue shimmer in an evening painted white and gray — the sole flicker of colour in this monochrome city. they’re crinkled at the edges.

he looks awfully amused.

(you stay still, not breathing, like any slight motion could have him pulling away.)

”careful,” he croons. so low you barely hear it, almost a purr. the word has a soft underbelly, something you don’t need to dissect to feel.

a sentiment that seems to simmer in the air around you, drifting past the little corner store, a dog tied to a lamp post, your reddened cheeks. past the blue of his eyes, a peripheral that stretches to cover the city before you. words too heavy to speak aloud.

stay safe for me, silly.

then he’s letting go. sudden, the bite of the air replacing his hand. it lingers on your skin, like a memory, like the ghost of a memory. but it’s there. strawberries and vanilla, leather and warmth. something kind. warm.

and it stays there, even as gojo takes a step forward, no longer facing you. walking confidently, the wind bending around his tall stature. long legs and large steps, leaving an imprint in the snow for you to follow. 

he turns his head, and grins. hair tousled by the breeze, white locks glittering with snowflakes. ”you coming? it’s starting soon.”

a moment passes. 

”or do you need me to call shoko?” 

you puff out a breathy laugh, at that, stumbling forward. reaching up to wipe more of the blood sticking to your skin. sniffling, but smiling, teeth peeking out between your lips.

”yeah, yeah,” a roll of your eyes. ”’m right behind you.”

gojo’s eyes crinkle, disappearing behind his shades when he straightens his back and raises his head. moving forward, while you follow; his back turned to you, snowy hair melting into the white all around you. like something out of a painting. 

with a pep in step, you catch up to him. eager to hear more of his voice, his memories. still basking in the warmth of his hand on your jaw.

a touch from the untouchable.

gojo’s lying on your couch.

he usually is, to be fair, so it shouldn’t be surprising. kicking his legs up, watching tv — or sleeping, snoring loudly, like the couch belongs to him. like your home belongs to him. like he pays rent, and doesn’t just laze around and devour all the sweets in your kitchen cabinets.

(he’s there so often that you’re starting to wonder if you should give him a copy of your keys, or something. but you have a feeling that’d be just a smidge too intimate for him to ever accept.)

this time, however, gojo is doing neither of those things. 

he’s on your couch, but he isn’t manspreading, or draping himself over the leather with a lazy grin. he doesn’t have that air of effortless confidence. and it’s palpable, in the air, the open space, enough that you can feel it. an itch on your skin, a lump in your throat. you could practically feel it as soon as you walked through the door.

he isn’t wearing his blindfold, or his shades. he isn’t even smiling. and gojo is always, always smiling.

you think he might be having a rough day.

even the cats are noticing that something’s off. jumping up in his lap, trying to comfort him, brushing against his legs. purring, when he cradles them close — always so gentle with them. hands petting down their backs, softly, the same hands he uses to rip out the throats of curses and curse users alike.

then they mewl and run away. and for once you wish they wouldn’t, wish they could keep clinging to him like they always do. just to make him feel better. right now, in the state he’s in, you wouldn’t even mind gojo’s usual smug declarations of how does it feel to know they like their papa best? 

you can’t help but feel unsure of yourself. gojo isn’t doing anything, and he isn’t saying anything. he’s just lying there, on his back, eyes closed. letting the darkness of the room engulf him. drowning in his own thoughts.

he must know that you’re there. he must have heard you come in. but he isn’t saying anything, and you wonder if that means he wants you to leave him alone.

you’re reminded of that one morning. when he woke up on your couch, and looked more human than you’d ever seen him. how you wanted to avert your eyes, how wrong it felt to see a god rouse from its slumber. 

(but you know better now.)

hesitantly, you begin to inch closer, step by step. quiet, floorboards barely creaking beneath your weight. tentative, as you settle down on the couch. brushing against the infinity between you.

gojo’s eyes flicker open. like an old tape beginning to play. they still shine with that same brilliance, they always do, but now you think they look just a little dull. a little red.

a moment passes. agonizingly slow.

before you can properly think it through, you’ve done it. almost on instinct, jumping the gun before he has the chance to cover everything up with jokes and laughter. opening your arms; a silent invitation.

gojo only stares. 

his gaze moves down to your outstretched arms, and then up to your face. your pursed lips, nervous eyes, worried crease between your brows. one second passes. two, five. you stop counting.

for a moment, you’re almost certain that he’s about to get up and leave. that he’ll flash you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, walk out the door and then never return. like you flew too close to the sun, just another icarus too mesmerized by the glow of his grin to notice your melting wings. like you stepped over the fragile line that separates his bones from yours, his heartbeat from your greedy hands.

— but then he sluggishly gets into a sitting position, and doesn't look at you.

when gojo collapses into your embrace, you’re so surprised that you almost forget how to breathe. almost forget your own name, forget whose home you’re in, why your arms are wrapped around a pale man. all you can think of is how warm he feels, how he’s like a weighted blanket against you. how he trusts you enough to come so very close. 

cheek pressed against your chest, arms loose around your waist. no infinity, no barriers. just a single touch shared between two damaged human beings. 

a brief inhale gives you the composure that you need. air flowing into your lungs, your brain, as you settle into a comfortable position. no words leave your lips; you just continue to hold him, one hand on his back, testing the waters. letting him hear the echo of your heartbeat. unsure, the both of you, but something about this feels right. close to right. almost there.

gojo is stiff. when you strain your ears, you hear a sharp intake of breath, and a full body shiver courses through him. a tremble of his spine. like he’s itching to run, like he doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. so painfully unused to a proper embrace. 

(a little like a frightened fawn.)

a tender something unfurls within your chest, and you feel almost devoured by the fondness rooting itself into your beating heart. delicate, as you begin to brush away his tousled bangs, leaning close. pressing a kiss to his forehead, glistening with sweat. letting your lips linger on his skin. 

he’s pale, shining in the bleak moonlight cast from the translucent curtains of your living room windows. pale like a ghost. and there are dark crescents beneath his dull eyes.

nightmares, you surmise. they haunt him too, don’t they? of course they do. 

eyes brimming with emotion, you gaze at him; quiet as a mouse, closing his eyes. leaning into your touch, ever so slightly, breathing out a sigh tinged with pure exhaustion. and a certain realization washes over you, akin to a tidal wave, sudden and inevitable. so obvious it’s funny.

you’re not a god at all, are you? 

a coo slips from your lips. barely a sound, more like a soothing breath. warm against his cold skin.

you’re just like everyone else. just as fragile.

one of your thumbs goes to smooth over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. so, so gentle. like one wrong touch could have him crumbling into little grains of stardust, spilling out over the worn leather of your couch.

there are so many things you wish you could say to him. so many things you’ll never be able to say, because you’re afraid that if you give him too much it’ll scare him off. like love could burn him if it were to leak out too fervently. like it’s burned him before. 

so you don’t say anything. but you think it, you repeat it inside your mind like a prayer, and some part of you thinks that’s enough. i’ve got you — a whisper that you don't dare to voice. 

one gojo still manages to hear, somehow, if the way he tugs you closer and snuggles into your neck is anything to go by. a shaky exhale brushing against your collarbone.

(if you feel something wet touch the skin of your shoulder, you don’t mention it.)

you simply hold him, and don’t even think the thought of letting go. even though it takes him hours just to fall asleep, hours you spend anxiously wondering if he’ll change his mind and pull away. but he doesn't leave, even though his body may want him to, and that's enough, and you don’t let go. not even once. he stays cradled to your chest the same way you’d hold a tiny puppy, something fragile. something you need to handle with care.

and when his heartbeat finally mellows out, when you hear little barely audible snores flow from his lips, you finally begin to relax. melting into the couch beneath you, watching him get the rest he deserves. praying that any nightmares of his will be given to you instead.

sleep comes, eventually, to the both of you. tangled up on the couch, him on top of you, comforted by the flutter of each other’s heartbeat. by the warmth of another human being. safe in each other’s arms.

(the next morning, through hazy sunshine and the clinking of coffee cups, he teasingly tells you that just satoru is fine.)

it’s barely daybreak when satoru wakes you up.

a rude awakening, to say the least. he pulls out all the stops, intent on not letting you sleep even a second longer; poking at your cheek, pinching them when that doesn’t work. tickling you, blowing cold air into your ear, flopping down on top of you like a big dog. anything to rouse you from your deep slumber.

and he just will not give it up. no matter how hard you try to ignore him, no matter how many times you swat him away with your duvet pillow or turn to bury your face into the sheets. that’s how satoru always is, how he’s always been, how he hopefully always will be — an absolute pain. one you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

so, when he starts whining for you to just wake up already, voice tinged with a sadness that tugs at your heartstrings, you find yourself opening your tired eyes. all while he murmurs on and on about something unintelligible, still trying to bribe you.

”i’ll make you coffee, okay? just get up. c’moooon.”

”… what time is it, satoru?” is all you mutter, voice leaving your lips in a raspy, disgruntled fashion. stirring a little at the promise of coffee. 

he cracks a grin. ”don’t worry about it! just come with me.”

despite your grumpy attitude, and the ungodly hour at which satoru shakes you awake, you find yourself letting him scoop you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. placing a hot cup of coffee in your hands, made just the way you like it, before grinning mischievously in a way that has you feeling ill at ease.

and ten minutes later, you find yourself on top of a hill. overlooking the woods, and a big lake below you, no city lights visible no matter where you turn — god knows where he’s taken you, but it’s pretty.

breathtaking, even. all frost and wildlife and peace, sweet solitude, tiny flowers blooming on the patches of grass around you. a murder of crows takes flight in the distance, scattering into the indigo of the sky.

gojo grins, boyish and bright, excited breaths turning into vapour as he speaks. awfully proud of himself. 

”i can’t take you on vacation, but —”

he drags you with him, arm looped around your own, plopping down on the ground. not before taking off his jacket, to cover the ground beneath you. grass tickles the skin of your palms, as you comfortably spread your legs, making sure to sit as close to him as possible.

and your heart softens a little.

because he’s mentioned it, before; how it’d be nice to go on a road trip, someday, just the two of you. all around the world, wherever the wind takes you. basking in that feeling of freedom. it’s no more than a fever dream, though, with how busy satoru is, the responsibilities you both shoulder.

so this’ll have to do. that’s probably what he’s thinking.

”the sun’ll rise soon. it’ll be pretty, i promise,” he beams, so close that you feel his warm breath on your skin. that you can see the dimples on his cheeks, his barely visible freckles.

”oh, so that’s why you woke me up so early.” 

his smile widens. ”nice, right? i wanted to surprise you. d’you like it?”

a smile blooms on your lips, in tandem with his, honeyed and content. indulgent. gojo looks at it, and immediately knows your answer.

”yeah. it’s really pretty out here,” you face forward, taking a deep breath, fresh morning air entering your lungs. cool and crisp, stirring your sleepy mind. ”kinda nostalgic.”

satoru hums, and follows your lead. looking ahead, admiring the beauty of an empty world.

the big lake looks like a mirror, from here, glittering in the peripheral of your vision. the sun licks at the frozen sky, not quite breaking through, not entirely ready to rise — but it paints everything a rusty gold and you can almost feel spring shining through, taste it on your tongue, that promise of something better, something more concrete. a warmth you don’t have to question. 

a warmth that’ll stay with you for a long time to come.

it takes about ten seconds for the man by your side to start speaking, again, shattering the peaceful silence. but you don’t mind. his voice is nice, a mellow melody to your morning-fatigued brain.

side by side, you wait for the sun to rise. sharing hushed whispers and laughter, like two kids having a sleepover. like nothing exists but the space that cocoons you, wraps you up in a nostalgia so palpable the entire world feels like a fond memory.

(it makes you feel a millenia younger.)

satoru giggles like a child, telling you about something shoko said, or something megumi did, and you don’t miss a single word that spills from his glossy lips. hanging on to every word he’s willing to give to you. 

he looks so unbothered, like this. eyes crinkling, humming some tune you don’t recognize, like a little nightingale ready to take flight into the skies.

you part your lips, admiring his features. every patch of skin you can see. words making themselves manifest, hungry to see inside his brain, to know more about him. a fascination that’s never quite left you — though now you think it may be better described as love. ”hey, satoru?”

at the sound of his name, he turns to you. the weight of his eyes feels so light, like this. those blessed eyes staring into yours. he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips. ”mm?”

”if you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be right now?”

satoru blinks.

he looks at you, a mild surprise flitting through the lines of his face, as he takes you in. measures the weight of your words.

then he smiles, again. lopsided, almost a smirk, rich with amusement. a hum buzzes in his throat, like a butterfly itching to break out.

”.. you teasing me?” 

a huff fills the air. ”it’s a genuine question!” you insist, moving your leg to nudge his own. ”c’mon. anywhere in the world. i’m just curious.”

another hum. he narrows his eyes, playfully, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold back a chuckle when that makes you grumble. pouting softly, tilting your head. he’s amused, you can tell. 

but he closes his eyes, lashes fluttering, glimmering with morning dew. and you can tell he’s taking you seriously. tasting the question on his tongue.

something shines in his eyes, when he opens them again; crinkling at the corners, soft lines of crows’ feet. you can almost see that burst of aquamarine, breaking through the black glass of his shades. like the laws of physics can’t contain it. and he smiles, as always, a smile so beautiful you wish you could live on the curve of his lips. flimsy, no teeth peeking out, no dimples to admire. but sweet. slathered with honey, as sincere as can be.

his voice comes out a little raspy, tainted with a tinge of fatigue, a smokey residue that sticks to the walls of his throat. but it's genuine, like he just woke up, like he's too sleepy to be dishonest. like every word he says can be no more or less than the absolute truth.

and when he turns to face you, tilting his head enough for you to see that shade of blue you love so dearly, his eyes shine with an honestly so palpable you feel like you’re being devoured.

satoru parts his lips.

”right next to you.”

a moment passes. silent, endless, no sound to be heard but the beating of your own heart.

at last, the sun breaks through that layer of frost, peeking up from the boundary of the world — and the morning begins to thaw. streaks of sunlight cascade down the contours of his handsome face, painting him a mellow gold, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the warmth of his hand finding yours. 

for a moment, satoru looks unsure. smile shifting in the light, into something slightly stiff, and you know that means he's nervous. silent, as he wets his glossy lips. pink tongue tasting strawberry chapstick. 

then he’s leaning forward. 

it’s chaste, the kiss he plants on your forehead, soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. but it lingers, even after he’s pulled back — a warmth on your skin. a silent declaration.

he doesn't have to say anything. when you look up at him you can see the red flush of his ears, and when you strain your ears you can hear all those unspoken whispers. the sentiment neither of you will ever have to say out loud, because you know. it’s there. and it means everything. 

and you know that for as long as you live, you’ll both have this. one single thread of normalcy, in your unorthodox existences, one single glimmer of something almost entirely good. something that heals, something that isn’t a blessing and a curse all in one. something soft to the touch.

there’s no need to find the right words for it. there never was.

”kinda looks like melted ice cream.”

the words pull you out of your stupor. satoru’s looking at the sky, and you follow his gaze, watching the sunrise in tandem with him. 

it’s beautiful. soft clouds melting into pinks and oranges, dappling sunbeams lapping at the trees, a saffron shade washing over the empty world in front of you. a world that may not be so empty, after all, because you hear crows in the distance, and someone’s fishing by the lake, and you think you spot a squirrel in the tree closest to you. 

and you have someone, right next to you, right by your side. someone who won’t ever leave.

sometimes, loving satoru gojo feels a little like strolling on the edge of a cliff. like one wrong step could have you tumbling down, a mess of broken bones and unspoken words. but if you do stumble and fall — you know he’ll be waiting at the bottom of the precipice. arms outstretched, wearing that same innocent grin, ready to hoist you both back up.

so you know it’ll be fine.

swallowing down a bout of fresh laughter, like a flower unfurling in your chest, petals brushing against your ribcage, you give in. opting to bask in the moment, in his presence.

”yeah,” you puff out a chuckle, head slumping against satoru’s shoulder. he makes a little noise of approval, and your grin grows. ”it does.”

he doesn’t say anything. smiling, wordlessly, admiring the way the sun kisses up your collarbone. lighting up your face. and you bask in his warmth, how right it feels to be tucked into his side. how safe he feels, even now. how safe you make him feel.

you look at the man to your left, and he looks back at you, and that wonderful unnamed something unfurls inside your chest again. and, without having to speak it aloud, you know it will continue to do so.

many, many years later, he’ll still be satoru, and you’ll still be you. the distance between you will be what it always was; breachable.

and that will be enough.