#I personally used to play with the music off and I typically had something else playing on youtube in another tab.

[nulll-n-voiid]

Just pick whichever option you did most!

Tell me about your minecraft memories in the notes! /nf

[reallyromealone]

Ohshc host club members with a male reader who is bsd Chuuya Nakahara's younger brother

Male reader has the same abilities as Chuuya

The host club members somehow got into trouble so male reader has no choice but to use his abilities

Title: risky business

Part : One

Fandom: OHSHC x Bungou stray dogs

Characters: host club, chuuya

Fic type: two shot

Pairings:

Warnings: male reader, reader insert

Notes: using that ohshc manga plot wooo

Summary: I don't know how to write the nabbing rn so enjoy a cliff hanger

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Name) Always kept to himself during classes, he was thankful his brother worked so hard to give him such a good life but (name) always struggled to make friends especially because of his over protective brother.

Thankfully his brother had the forethought to give (name) a fake last name as to not be recognized.

"Chuu, I'm heading to school now" (name) said to his brother who was practically falling asleep on his king sized bed "I made you some breakfast for when you wake up" always a good little brother, chuuya noted to himself "have a good day, get good grades" he grumbled and (name) Pat his head before leaving, the private car waiting for him.

(Name) Typically opted for his more casual uniform, a sweater vest instead of the blazer and music playing from his mp3 player.

(Name) Was a ghost in the school, keeping to the shadows and focusing on his school work and narrowly avoiding his classmates to get to his seat.

Pulling out his notebook and other supplies while everyone else talked and generally caught up from the weekend.

"--and we will be working in pairs this project" (name) snapped back into reality at his teachers words and saw them tape a paper to the door "check at the end of class, these papers will show what is expected of the project" (name) awkwardly thanked his classmate who passed him the papers and passed the pile to the person behind him.

"Awww we aren't partners!" A girl groaned annoyed to her friend while (name) looked at the paper curiously, looking down till he saw his name and...

Haruhi Fujioka.

Well haruhi was nice enough from what he saw of his classmate, glancing at the brown haired teen who was chatting with the twins, the two brothers always made (name) uncomfortable with their incest act; The whole host club overwhelmed (name) honestly.

"Uh, hey so we're partners..." (Name) Mumbled awkwardly while the twins looked him up and down as if inspecting the quiet teen "right! Heres my number, we can meet up after club stuff..." She said pulling out her phone and (name) nodded, the twins circling them curiously "you never talk to anyone" kaoru said simply and Hikaru nodded "why don't you have friends?"

(Name) Was a bit stunned at their blatant audacity and was ready to fire something off when haruhi gave them a look "can you guys not be rude at any given opportunity?" She said incredulously to the twins shock, looking away annoyed from her and Hikaru glared at (name) but said nothing else.

The four went about their days, (name) in the soccer club and the other three at the host club.

(Name) Never really thought about the host club, his teammates always chatting about the club getting all the girls "(name) aren't you doing a project with one of the members?" His captain asked (name) who nodded "yeah, haruhi" he said simply and a member hung himself over the other "try and figure out how they get all the girls! Please (name)!" He begged and the teen rolled his eyes with a soft laugh "yeah, I'll make it mission number one" he said simply and the team made small talk, always trying to include (name). They didn't know his family secret but they knew he was shy and wanted him to know that they were friends with him.

"And don't forget to bring back the training camp forms!" The captain said seriously and everyone nodded before leaving, (name) going to the host club with a little confusion; he's never had to go to it so he's a bit lost ok!

"Music room number three... Number three..." He mumbled while looking at the doors signs and made a small 'aha!' when he saw the sign before taking a deep breath and knocking twice before opening the door. Rose petals assaulted his face and a resounding 'welcome!' before Hikaru spoke flatly "oh it's you" (name) ignored the elder twins snark and turned his attention to haruhi "club activities are still going I see, want me to meet you in the library?"

"And do what? Huh? What are you gonna do with our haruhi?!" Tamaki tried to get all dad mode but (name) just sighed "were partners for a--"'--PARTNERS?!" The blond looked like he was ready to drop either from horror or rage, maybe both "yes... In a project" (name) felt a headache form and wanted to leave and haruhi seemed tired "actually club activities just finished, let me grab my stuff and we can go"

But it's never that easy, she should have known.

She knew that they would never make it easy.

The project required them to go out and gather data and of course the host club would follow.

"Do they always do that or am I just special?" (Name) Asked her curiously before staring at her with a little more focus "ooooohhhh, wait no I get it now" he realized and haruhi looked panicked "trans?"

"No, i-uh I have to pay off a debt" she explained and he nodded "well I won't say anything don't worry... Anyways"

What none of them realized though was that they were being followed.

"That the kid?"

"He has some rich friends, could probably get a pretty penny off then as well..."

[romihearts]

married life ! ┊ft. nene, aoi, akane, teru

synopsis. married life with them.

content. fluff, gn reader, intended lowercase

her notes. can mokkes be used as a pillow

— yashiro nene

married life would be quite calm and relaxing.

housework is split 50/50 but if you or her is very tired from work one of you would offer to do the other's chores for a bit

even the simplest things like the two of you cooking together makes your heart skip a beat !

the two of you have a pet hamster by nene's request :3

if the two of you aren't busy, she'd plan small dates around the town or city you reside in.

the dates would commonly consist of looking at cute appliances, furniture and whatnot.

grocery shopping is quite a hard thing because most of the time the two of you end up with a few of the things you planned to buy and the rest consist of junk food

either way, married life with her is really comforting : ) she'd always be there for you like you'd be there for her

the early morning light entered through your shared home, illuminating you and your beloved in bed, you awake while nene was still asleep.

you cherished moments like these, the warmth and comfort felt around made you feel so safe. even having her beside you is already enough for your heart. not to mention how cute she looks. despite her sayings that there are better people out there, she forgets that you chose her, and she chose you.

you felt so lucky to have her.

— akane aoi ; m

married life with him would be busy yet fun!

in terms of housework, it's 50/50 aswell on mosy occasions but he'd really prefer to do the job for you! especially if you're tired from work.

he'd be the type to wake up earlier than you to cook you breakfast :3 and i feel like he's not really a morning person but he feels better if it's you he's waking up for.

another hc is that he commonly listens to jazz or classical music, and when he plays it out loud while both of you are cleaning you two would end up dancing : )

for dates, he prefers them the typical way. a romantic dinner, a walk on the dock at night, etc. despite it being generic, he'll always enjoy any second he spends with his significant other.

if the two of you go shopping, he becomes very strict and acts like your babysitter TT he wouldn't allow any things that aren't planned to be bought. althoouugh,, if you bat your eyelashes at him, tilt your head, and ask in the most polite way, he reluctantly allow to let you buy something.

it was 8:57 pm, and the sound of water running and dishes clashing were the only thing to be heard at the moment. you and akane had just finished eating dinner and you offered to do the dishes considering he already ran the rest of the errands earlier.

until, akane caught you off guard by wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. it was uncommon for akane to do this, yet it still continues to surprise you. "kane, im doing the dishes, you can hug me later." you giggle out yet he just tightens his hold around you.

"but i want to hug you now." akane said nonchalantly. accepting it, you continue with the dishes while your beloved was embracing you.

— aoi akane ; f

married life with her would be fulfilling.

despite the fact that she's popular and whatnot, i feel she'd prefer a secluded and comforting life

for housework, she'd offer to do all of the chores but of course, you need to help aswell so she reluctantly lets you TT

she'd be the type to buy you flowers !! and with this, your house would probably be filled with flowers too

in the privacy of your home, she lets herself unwind and confide in you, without anyone else's expectation of her : )

she'd like cuddling too! just the two of you on the couch, close to eachother while simply watching a movie makes her happy

for dates, i feel like she'd enjoy on of those craft studios, specifically pottery making! even though its quite cliché, she likes it when you're behind her, helping her through the pottery process too >< oh and she'd definitely love dates to the zoo aswell !! especially if she's with you,she likes admiring the animals : )

she's kinda lenient with letting you put whatever you want in the shopping cart when you two are going grocery shopping, but she's the type to secretly put them back too 😭

"thank you for the date, [name]." aoi said, the two of your were walking around the zoo whilst talking about each other's day and jobs. "it's no problem aoi, i love being with you, really." you responded while aoi blushes a bit a your statement.

"well, for this date, i'd like to treat you to!" aoi beamed. "how about some ice cream? what flavor do you want?" she continued to ask despite you really insisting its fine. but, you faltered against her, seeing her focused face makes youe heart melt and you eventually let her treat you.

"thank you for the ice cream too, aoi" you said, while the both of you continued chatting with your ice creams.

— teru minamoto

married life with him would be chaotic but fun.

teru's good on almost all aspect of housework! except cooking.

he'd try to cook you breakfast but he fails at even cracking the eggs TT for some reason the eggs exploded when he tried cracking them???

another time, he tried baking and the cookies came out burnt and charred.. and incredibly salty too..

after those times, you forbid him from the kitchen.

he'd be clingy, super clingy. if he comes home exhausted from exorcist work, he'd only want to have you in his embrace and won't let you go until for a few hours.

he'd be super romantic when it comes to dates. literally giving you a bouquet full of roses and asking you out for dinner. with the tuxedo suit too.

grocery shopping with him is a 50/50. most of the times you get what you need and only that. but the other half, you two end up getting unnecessary things TT

a loud bang could be heard from the kitchen, it was early in the morning and you noticed your lover out of bed. you could have only guessed what happened. you immediately got out of bed and headed to your shared kitchen, seeing your husband's focused and beautiful face on.. charred eggs?

"ah, [name] you're finally awake!" teru said, his eyes lighting up once he saw you. "i made you breakfast, do you want some?" he asked as you stepped forward to him, taking a look at his work. it was, unidentifiable? you guessed that the beige colored whatever the shape was pancakes..? the look on his face and the food he made was really contradictory.

despite that, you offered to cook breakfast instead. even if your husband can't cook, that doesn't take away from the fact you love him.

[rapturously]

SIDELINES.

you haven’t seen jesse pinkman since high school — and he’s the last person you ever expected to connect with. however, times have changed — and so have you.

part 1. | part 2. | part 3. | part 4. | part 5.

༄ PAIRING. | jesse pinkman x [female] reader.

༄ FORMAT. | one-shot, multi-part — not requested.

༄ WORD COUNT. | 9.6K.

༄ WARNINGS. | drug use, references to substance use/addiction, past jane/jesse, emotional trauma/hurt, jesse’s internalized hatred/guilt, acquaintances to lovers, smoking, smut, smut with plot, making out, dirty talk, breast play, cunnilingus, hair pulling, bottom!jesse, riding, morning sex, aftercare.

༄ AUTHOR’S NOTE. | I don’t know where I’m getting these ideas, but I have a lot of projects in the works right now. Some are horror-related and some aren’t. Honestly, I’m just happy to be writing again no matter what the content is. Thank you guys for your continued support & love. I couldn’t do it without you all! Peace! ☺️

The scent of marijuana, pungent smoke, and a toxic amalgamation of sweat and AXE body spray wafted throughout the house, music jacked up so loud that it made your ears ring. You remained at your perch, stuffed along the wall of a stranger’s house while your friends got stoned in another room.

You were dragged to this party out of sheer loyalty to your friends and a boredom that outweighed anything else. Regret rippled through you, nose stinging from the foul smells that hung like a noxious haze in the living room. The drink you clutched within one hand was watered-down, tiny slivers of ice swirling around within the cup.

Some mediocre hip-hop song blasted throughout the house, bass loud enough to shake the very foundation — you were thoroughly surprised that the police hadn’t been called in for a noise complaint.

Grey wisps of smoke drifted in your direction, and you swatted at it with a wrinkled nose. It wasn’t your typical scene — the sort of party, at least. Partying was something you were accustomed to — harmless college parties with drinks and weed, but this was something else.

There were people snorting lines of cocaine off of a glass coffee table, and you swore that one person had passed out entirely in the kitchen. A strange sensation crawled across your flesh — a feeling that you weren’t exactly meant to be here. Your friends had driven you down here, but you were prepared to take your chances with walking home.

“Wanna hit?” A man asked you, gsze half-lidded, lips curled into a less than attractive smile. He propositioned you with a jerk of his head, motioning toward the thin line of fine, white powder sitting along the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You waved one hand in dismiss, weaving through the crowds to retrieve another drink. The kitchen was destroyed, ravaged by strangers with little respect for the home. Debris, trash, and the remnants of marijuana were everywhere. You nearly stepped on broken glass.

It felt like an out-of-body experience — as if you were simply a spectator, an observer who watched the chaos around you. You didn’t thrive or revel within it — you were indifferent. The vices of your friends differed greatly from your own, to quite an extreme degree.

As you watched the swarm of people, all huddled together within the living room, the air became stifling and stuffy, as if it threatened to suffocate you altogether. They reminded you of zombies — barely moving in one place, all drugged-out from whatever concoction of pills and illicit substances were available at this party.

You silently slipped outside, abandoning your drink somewhere on the windowsill as you stepped out into the cool night breeze. You inhaled, greedily drinking in the crisp freshness of dusk, hands roaming over your thin cardigan as you began to shuffle to the edge of the porch.

Moonlight pooled through the wispy clouds as they fluttered through the night — everything was so much quieter outside. The thumping of the bass had diminished, and the skunk-like scent had dissipated altogether.

The door opened behind you, a figure slinking out onto the porch a few feet away from you. “Hey.”

It was somewhat unfamiliar until you’d actually glanced over your shoulder, gaze landing upon a most familiar face — Jesse Pinkman. The two of you made eye contact; Jesse’s face blossomed with a subtle realization.

“Holy shit,” You let out a bark of a laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Jesse Pinkman, right? You went to J.P Wynne.” You hadn’t seen Jesse Pinkman since high school graduation — you distinctly remembered his social circle.

Jesse recognized you sometime during the midst of the party — a true wallflower, despite your popularity in junior high. It surprised him to see a girl like you at one of his drug-laden festivities, but then again, life was full of surprises. He looked tired, skin pale and eyes baggy as he leaned against one of the columns.

“Yeah,” Perusing his pockets, he fished out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “You were one of the Honor Society members, right?” Jesse recalled your stellar academics and social standing — his polar opposite.

You made a face, keeping your arms folded across your abdomen. “Yeah.” Admittedly, Jesse wasn’t exactly someone you were friends with in high school. Cordial was a good word for it — your parents never would have allowed you to hang out with someone like him, anyway. “We were in Mr. White’s chemistry classes together.”

Upon mentioning Walter White, Jesse stiffened slightly, feigning innocence as he cracked a thin-lipped smile. “Jesus,” He exhaled, reaching for his lighter. “It’s been awhile.”

There was a prevalent exhaustion that hung within his eyes, a loneliness that almost felt tangible within that moment. He avoided eye contact with you at-times, hands fidgeting when you stepped closer.

“It has.” You paused, rubbing your palms across your arms. Despite the acrid heat that New Mexico produced during the day, the temperatures dropped drastically at night. You shivered, a delicate smile creeping across your features. “Did the party get a little boring for you, too?”

He’d forgotten about you a little bit — forgotten about just how beautiful you were. You’d only gotten prettier, too. Jesse felt the sting of sheepishness and inferiority that came with being around someone like you — a good person, someone with responsibilities and respectable morals. You weren’t a criminal — you hadn’t killed somebody.

Jesse almost felt as if he shouldn’t be speaking to you, but he pressed on. “I guess. Needed some air, you know?” He noticed your constant shivering, prompting him to remove the baggy, black jacket he wore. “You cold?” He asked, gesturing toward the garment he carried.

“Oh,” Warmth crept along your flesh, brows knitting together as you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Jesse.” It was a thoughtful gesture, something you didn’t expect, but you were freezing and the dress wasn’t doing you any favors.

“Nah, go ahead. Might smell like cigarettes, though.” Jesse forewarned, tucking one hand underneath his arm. The long-sleeved Henley he wore was more than enough for him.

You thanked him, slipping into his hooded zip-up. He wasn’t exactly incorrect — it did smell of cigarette smoke intermingled with the cologne he wore. You didn’t mind, though.

Silence drifted between the two of you, awkward enough to make you uncomfortable as you fished around for your cellphone. Minutes ticked by without a word. Jesse appeared to be a little nervous, and you wondered if it had anything to do with you.

There was a string of texts from your friends inquiring about your whereabouts. It was a little after ten o’clock, and you fully intended on walking home. “It was nice seeing you, Jesse. I hope you’re doing well.” You cleared your throat. “I’m going to head home.”

Jesse opened his mouth to speak, lips fumbling around the unlit cigarette. Surely, you didn’t want to talk to him — Christ, he was practically a stranger. It felt cruel of him not to offer to give you a ride home, or something like that.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse cleared his throat, clamoring after you. “I can give you a ride home. Could be stalkers or crazy people around.” His reasoning was weak, but it seemed to resonate with you, oddly enough. He felt strange — he barely knew you outside of what he perceived in high school.

You knew that Jesse had gotten in trouble with the law in school — everyone knew. Gossip was prevalent at J.P Wynne. Part of you screamed to refuse, to politely decline and endure the lengthy trek home, but a sliver of you wanted to accept, to indulge in your curiosity.

Jesse had always been kind to you in the very rare, occasional interaction you’d had with him. He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him. It was a nice change of company — refreshing, almost. There was a clean slate between the two of you.

Your shoulders slouched and sluggishly lifted in a weak shrug as you rubbed your hands together. “You don’t mind? It’s on Nauman Drive, past downtown.” A decent drive, for sure — a half an hour or more. You expected him to reject you given the distance.

“Nauman?” It was a nice area, he knew that much. “Yeah, I don’t mind. You care if I smoke?” Jesse inquired, gesturing around toward the garage. He didn’t care about the house — it almost seemed to fade away into the background. He needed a break, time to think.

“Go ahead.” You trailed after Jesse, following him toward the paved stretch of driveway. A 1984 Toyota Tercel sat, red paint beginning to fade and show signs of weathering. It was beat-up, but certainly held a bit of rugged appeal.

Jesse awkwardly shuffled to open the passenger door, and you thanked him, sinking down into the felt seats. The car smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap air fresheners, but it was tidy and clean inside. You placed your purse down onto the floorboard in front of you.

Blowing a pillar of smoke into the air, Jesse hastily finished his cigarette, fingers beginning to quiver as he opened the driver’s side. He hadn’t really spent time with a girl since Jane — but you didn’t remind him of her whatsoever. There were many qualities you possessed that certainly contrasted from her, not that it was a bad thing.

“Do you live here?” You asked, head canting to one side. There were other cars scattered around the block and parked on the street, but his happened to be the only vehicle in the driveway.

“Uh,” Jesse glanced at you, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.” He turned the key forward, car rumbling and puffing to life. “Bought the house months ago — used to be my Aunt’s.” He clarified, wondering if you would ask about the obscene amount of drugs.

“You don’t think it’ll burn down while you’re gone?” You questioned, lips twitching into a thin smile as you rolled down the passenger window, letting your elbow rest up against the ledge.

Jesse let out a huff of laughter, and shrugged his shoulders. He began to back up, rolling out onto the empty roads. “It’s been through worse shit.” His wry statement only made your smile flicker again, but he vehemently focused on driving instead.

You felt the barrier melt a bit at that — it was comforting to know that the two of you didn’t have to behave like complete strangers. Silence simmered again, settling between the both of you as he concentrated on finding something on the radio. It served as suitable background noise.

“What are you doing nowadays?” You avoided the topic of the party — it wasn’t worth mentioning. A cool breeze whipped through the car as he began to drive, causing goosebumps to prickle along your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Jesse confessed, cerulean hues flickering in your direction. “Drifting, I guess.” It was the first time where he’d revealed a sliver of his true feelings. The parties were a worthwhile distraction — soulless events where he could find solace in all of the chaos surrounding him. “Shit, it’s a long story.” His laughter was shaky.

“You don’t have to do a full confession, Jesse.” You reassured, playfully prodding at your cardigan. “I’m not wearing a wire.” With a gentle exhale, your tone softened as he pulled out onto the highway. It was almost soothing — driving back home with somebody you never expected to see again.

Jesse laughed at that, running a hand across his disheveled hair, and then planting it against the back of his neck. The support groups he’d been attending didn’t work — there was no comfort he’d been able to find.

Everything felt like some massive distraction from the root of the problem — the residual pain he was dealing with from Jane, from Gale. His heart hammered within his chest, and he looked at you again. Oddly enough, your nonchalant behavior and lack of judgment would’ve been enough for him to spill in a different setting.

“Hey, what about you? What are you doing these days?” Jesse immediately shifted the focus away from him. He was far more interested in what you had to say than his own life. Besides, it would pull him out of his own head for a little while.

The inquiry was unexpected but not unwelcome, causing you to adjust yourself within the passenger seat. “Oh,” You cleared your throat. “I’m in college at the University of New Mexico. I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to study — getting basics out of the way. I work at a cafe.”

Normal, uneventful, peaceful — Jesse envied you.

You were achieving something mundane yet safe, something that he wished he would’ve done long ago. Maybe things wouldn’t have happened in the way that they did. His countenance became a touch forlorn, but it wasn’t the time to become mournful over the past. He couldn’t go back, not anymore.

“Yeah, that’s …” He nodded, attempting to conjure the right words to say. “That’s good, really good. You know you could do anything you wanted. You were always really smart and shit.” Jesse replied, gaze hyperfocused upon the road as headlights raced past.

You could detect that Jesse was holding something back — that minuscule flicker of pain had crossed over his visage before being forced to dissipate. Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you reached over, gently prodding at his shoulder.

“Hey,” You began, tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Jesse felt his heart constrict within his chest, wisps of air stolen from his lungs. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked that — and genuinely meant it. It wasn’t out of obligation, that was easy to tell. He felt his throat grow thick, but he staved off any tears.

“Yeah.” It was a blatant lie, spoken through a clenched jaw. He nearly winced when you touched his shoulder, feeling as if he were souring the mood entirely. “Just, uh … You know, going to therapy and rehab right now. It’s been tough.” A very threadbare half-truth, but it was enough to placate you.

“Oh.” A warmth crept into your voice as you withdrew, countenance softening as you sank back into the passenger seat. “That’s understandable, Jesse. I’m sorry.” You replied, tucking strands of hair behind your ear as you looked out the window again.

Albuquerque was a sprawling city, and as the two of you neared the nicer end, Jesse knew that Nauman was only ten minutes away. He didn’t want to go back to the party anymore — but it might’ve been the best option. If he stayed with you, he knew the pain it would cause. He feared losing people — it was present all the time, a nagging dread that never stopped.

“Don’t be sorry,” Jesse interjected, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Did that shit to myself, you know?” Addiction was behind him. He rarely participated anymore — he was just a silent observer, fueling everyone else’s vices while he withered away. What kind of a life was that?

You canted your head to one side, lips parting slightly as you spoke. “Jesse, that’s not entirely your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your environment or circumstances out of your control.” You were right — but he made the choice to shoot Gale, and he made the choice to shoot up with Jane before she died.

He was silent, feeling the sensation of tears swimming within his gaze. Jesse didn’t want to even remotely consider crying in front of you — he barely knew you. Instead, he focused on the road, taking the exit towards Albuquerque Studios. Nauman wasn’t very far away.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d had a conversation with someone else that was this raw and vulnerable. Jesse’s discomfort was palpable and very real to you, and you felt horrible. Your countenance glistened with concern, brows furrowing together.

After the exit, Jesse drove onto Nauman Drive. There were rows of beautiful, lavish houses and apartment complexes, ones that he probably could’ve bought with the dealing money. He was blowing it all away right now on drugs for the parties — he was beginning to ask himself ‘why?’

“My apartment is at the end of the drive.” Your voice had softened, hands planted within your lap as he followed your directions. It was a smaller apartment complex but much nicer, your driveway occupied by your vehicle.

Jesse pulled up along the curb — it was eerily silent, aside from the cacophony of crickets that provided a steady ambience, and the occasional bark of a dog. He put the car in park, still gripping the steering wheel. “You got a nice place.” He murmured, a halfhearted attempt to shift the conversation to something else.

“Hey,” After unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over the center console, palm resting over his hand, the one that was strangling the wheel of the car. “Why don’t you come inside? I can make you coffee or something and you can just space out for a little while. We don’t even have to talk.”

The offer was generous — admittedly, Jesse wondered if it would benefit him in any way. If he could just lay on your couch, decompress, let the emotion off of his chest. He didn’t care about the state of the house — he didn’t care about anybody at that party. What he did care about, however, was you, and how you made him feel.

It was as if the invisibility he’d been safely floating in for so long was shattered, but there was someone who could actually see him — see the veil he’d been maintaining for this whole time. His gaze finally flickered toward you, who appeared genuinely concerned for him.

You were good — truly good.

There wasn’t an ounce of maliciousness or an underlying agenda. You didn’t smoke, you hadn’t touched drugs, you were in college with a steady, normal job that never got you involved with the wrong people. Jesse knew what he’d be putting you through if he let this drag out for too long. If he fucked up, people could hurt you.

“Listen,” Jesse swallowed, palm planted against the back of his neck. “You’re really sweet, okay? You’re nice,” He wanted to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt your feelings. “I just — I can’t. I’m not in a good spot right now. I don’t wanna drag you down with me.” That sounded fair, didn’t it?

You could accept that.

If it had something to do with the drugs, which you assumed that it was, then you understood that he was trying to protect you. You wanted to encourage him to try, but the last thing you wanted to do was pressure someone in a fragile state.

“Okay, Jesse.” You hesitated, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “I just want you to know that you're not alone. If you need someone, I’m here for you. I know that there was a wedge in high school, but I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t reconnect.” You shrugged, popping open the passenger side door.

As you stepped outside, you made sure to remove his jacket, draping it over the center console as you shut the door. Jesse didn’t say anything as you rounded the car — he was biting his finger, eyes squeezing shut as you made the short trek toward your front door. It felt like an eternity until you’d actually gotten inside.

Jesse exhaled, hands trembling as he hastily wiped away straggling tears that he’d been withholding during the span of the whole drive. Part of him knew that he could use a positive influence like you in his life, but the danger that lurked around him, the cloud of loss, he was afraid that you’d become lost in all of that, too.

The deliberation between going back to his house and biting the bullet to stay with you was a tedious process. He sat out in the car for a long time — he was surprised that you hadn’t come back outside asking why he was sitting there with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

When he finally made the choice to go up to your door, the walk felt like a lengthy, eternal drag. Jesse rocked forward, pressing his hands against his face as he composed himself. Back in high school, he was suave — much more of a charmer. Nowadays, he felt incompetent, but it was largely due to an amalgamation of nerves and drug use.

He knocked a few times, skin crawling with a nervous sensation, but there was something exciting about it, too. You were familiar yet new, a breath of fresh air that he desperately needed. Jesse watched as the door opened, and there you were.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse stuck his hands into his pockets, rocking back upon his heels. “Is the offer still on the table?” He’d ask, and your lips split into a gentle yet bemused smile.

“Of course.” You’d changed into your pajamas — a baggy, oversized graphic t-shirt and cotton shorts that were dwarfed by your top. “Did you want to watch a movie? I was about to start Watchmen.”

Jesse watched as you stepped aside to invite him in, closing the door behind him and latching the lock. You had a weird itch for security, especially at night. “Yeah, that sounds cool.” He replied, having a look around.

Your apartment was tidy and very cozy, with a rather comforting aesthetic and atmosphere. Jesse felt a little more relaxed, wandering around in the small living room. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the plush sofa, scattered with throw blankets and pillows.

As you prepared coffee, you wondered what changed his mind. It was a question that would likely nag at you until you asked. You understood being lonely — aside from the occasional hangout with your friends, you lived alone.

“Make yourself at home,” You chimed, weaving around the coffee table to place your steaming mugs down, settling into the couch. Jesse sat a comfortable distance away, arm slung over the back of the sofa. “What changed your mind?”

Your question caught him off-guard, but he wanted to be transparent with you. He owed you that much, especially after talking to him — after this, after everything. “I knew that I’d be miserable if I went back,” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna keep being miserable.” Loneliness also played a factor in this, but he didn’t really want to own up to it just yet.

“I understand,” You began, tucking one knee toward your chest as you played the movie. Admittedly, it served as better background noise than anything else. “I’m glad you came over.” Your lips split into a soft smile.

Jesse hesitated, glancing over at you as he stayed silent. He was most definitely drinking you in, gaze subtly raking you over as you took a sip of your coffee. For a moment, he envisioned this — getting close to you, hanging out with you, just getting to be himself, or as close as he could get again.

“I’m glad, too.” Jesse confessed, rubbing at the back of his head. He nearly shriveled at the eye contact you made with him, but he maintained it instead, lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nudged your drink back onto the wooden table, wordlessly slinking closer to Jesse until you were curled up beside him. The silence simmered with something else, perhaps a crackle of affection. Your gaze glistened with a peculiar softness, flickering between the movie and him.

Admittedly, this was the last thing Jesse expected — but that didn’t stop him from wanting it to happen. Once you initiated, he decided to meet you halfway, draping his arm around you, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

He’d been craving something like this for a while now. Jane left a void — a massive, gaping wound that he feared wouldn’t heal, but now? Maybe there was an end in sight — maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Jesse relaxed, sinking into you as you cuddled up with him.

Your hands intertwined, fingers brushing together until they joined. Just like Jesse, you were chasing after the sensation of touch, chasing after that feeling of fulfillment — no more loneliness. You’d been dealing with it for a long while, trying to manage the sea of emotions, and this was a nice break from that.

“I understand feeling miserable,” You murmured, head resting comfortably against his collarbone. “Sometimes it feels like you’re alone out on a raft, in the middle of the ocean.”

Jesse’s jaw tightened, but there was a mutual sense of empathy and understanding within your words. That was how he felt oftentimes — just himself, attempting to stay afloat. He didn’t say anything, but he did caress your knuckles with his thumb as a form of acknowledgment.

As the movie progressed, the two of you occasionally made small talk, but you were a little engrossed by the film, and so was he. It was comforting to just be near him — let him hold you, keep it light with gentle touches and whatnot.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Jesse cleared his throat, glancing down at you with exhausted eyes. “Thanks for this,” He murmured, absentmindedly wetting his lower lip. “Would you wanna do it again? Like, uh … Hanging out, or something?” He was intent on cleaning up his place, now.

“Yeah,” You replied, twisting within his hold enough to peer up at him. “I would.” There was something special about this — perhaps a feeling of renewal, of starting something with someone you never expected. You had a feeling that Jesse needed a little bit of support, and you didn’t mind providing that.

“Shit,” Jesse breathed through a soft laugh, visibly bewildered yet pleased by your answer. “Okay.” He didn’t expect that from you — he didn’t expect anything, really.

The both of you were smiling, now. Watchmen dissipated into the background once more, simply serving as ambience as the two of you nestled together. “Okay.” You parroted, lips curling into a lopsided smile as Jesse gathered his bearings.

You had little time to fully comprehend his next actions — he moved inward, cerulean hues dropping from your face to your mouth. Everything about this screamed sudden and intense, but you didn’t care. He tasted like cigarette smoke and spearmint gum — he had a very sweet kiss.

Jesse inhaled, relaxing into you, careening right into the warmth of your body. Every fiber of his being felt electrified, and he became so incredibly nervous — he hadn’t done this since Jane. He didn’t want her death to tarnish the moment, but it was inevitable.

He pulled away, opening his mouth to speak, yet nothing emerged. Words turned to ash upon his tongue, dying then and there as he hung his head, fingers toying with yours.

It wasn’t difficult to tell that he was struggling with this — you didn’t want to pry, but you didn’t want him to feel obligated, either. “Hey,” You murmured, dragging one hand toward his face, fingertips grazing over his stubbled jaw. “What’s wrong?” It was written all over his countenance, this underlying sense of pain.

“Nothing, just …” Jesse shivered when your palm cupped his jaw, shamelessly leaning into the sensation you left behind from your hand. “I just don’t wanna leave.” It sounded so pathetic — he didn’t want to go back home to a drug-laden pit.

Your lips twitched into a faint smile. “Is that it?” You left it open-ended, attempting to stay on the side of not being invasive or pushy. You wanted him to be comfortable.

Jesse huffed, idly tracing the pad of his thumb across the delicate plane of your knuckles. “Nah,” He admitted, cerulean hues flickering toward your face. “Haven’t really done this in awhile.” Telling you the visceral, painful truth would’ve been too much for him, so he settled on something else, something superficial.

“What, kissing?” You teased, keeping it mellow and lighthearted before he shook his head. “If it’s any reassurance, I haven’t done anything, either. Don’t feel like it’s just you.” With a soft sigh, you watched as Jesse leaned back just an inch or two, head craned to rest against your couch.

There was something forlorn about him, a light aura of melancholy that swirled around his being. You didn’t want to ask, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened. You were able to look past that — he was attractive. You’d always thought that he was handsome.

“You, uh … You mind if we do it again?” Jesse asked, head cocked to one side. He was some amalgamation of sheepishness and a suave charm, smile somewhat feeble as he held your hand.

“I don’t mind.” You replied, but before he could lean in again, you had something on your mind. “Jesse?”

Jesse stooped closer, forehead nearly pressed against yours. “Yeah?”

“Would it help if you stayed tonight?” Whatever was plaguing him, being alone around drugs was the last thing he needed. You didn’t mind him staying the night — you didn’t mind whatever came with that, too.

He remained silent for a few moments, and immediately felt as if he should say no — and against his own inner turmoil, he wanted to be with you. He didn’t care if the house was a mess or if it had been reduced to nothing — he’d rather stay here with you.

“I don’t wanna disturb the peace,” Jesse began, nose wrinkling slightly when you rolled your eyes. “I can crash on the couch.” Admittedly, that sliver of him that was desperate for affection also wanted to sleep with you, but it was only polite to keep his distance until you said otherwise.

“You’re not disturbing anything. Promise.” You reassured, fingers creeping toward the nape of his neck as you tilted forward. “I want you to stay.” You uttered, your own desire for fulfillment and company mirrored his own want to not be alone.

Part of him really wished you hadn’t said that — but once the gate was open, Jesse couldn’t stop himself, and neither could you. His gaze fell to your lips, thumb briefly caressing your jaw until the two of you were colliding into one another.

Jesse kissed you again, compassionate and borderline needy, hand dropping to grasp at the curve of your hip. His free hand still remained tangled with yours, eyes fluttering shut as you shuffled forward, partially planted within his lap. It was enough to make him forget about the downward spiral he was on, and it was as if the plummeting had ceased — for now.

You didn’t know where this would lead, but that was the exhilarating part about it. The uncertainty and the newfound territory that was Jesse Pinkman elated you. Maybe this was what you needed; he was what you needed — you needed a fresh start.

“Hey, uh,” Jesse whispered against your mouth, fingers teasing the hem of your baggy shirt, grazing over your thigh. “Where we going with this?” It was spoken with compassion and concern, out of total thoughtfulness for you. Maybe you didn’t want to sleep with a junkie — he couldn’t blame you.

“I think I know where I’d like to go,” You confessed, head canting to one side. “Where do you want to go?” You asked, idly trailing your digits through his hair. You noticed the subtle bobbing of his Adam’s apple, accompanied by a peculiar sheen within his eyes.

If it was something serious that you were after, Jesse was unsure if he even had that capability. After Jane, it almost seemed to shatter — fall apart. Maybe it didn’t have to be that way forever. Perhaps, there was a light at the end of the tunnel for the two of you.

Instead of recoiling, Jesse held you closer, wordlessly ushering you into his lap, palm splayed out underneath your shirt, resting soundly at the curve of your hip. “I just,” He hesitated, completely enamored by you — you were beautiful. “I don’t know if I can be what you need right now.” He admitted.

You respected him all the more for his candor, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck. You decided to kiss him, slow and steady, tilting to one side for something deeper. When you withdrew, your lips twitched into a smile. “I’m patient.” With that conclusion alone, Jesse relaxed.

He felt a bit of pressure relinquish itself from him, like a weight being removed from his chest. Jesse was worried that you’d want something serious, something strict off the bat. He didn’t intend on sleeping around, but he was afraid of disappointing you more than anything.

Given the implication of your interactions, Jesse had something on his mind — he figured that the feeling was mutual.

Jesse remained quiet for a moment, pressing a sweet kiss against your jaw, and then another to your neck. “Where’s your room?” He murmured, nearly shuddering in delight when you absentmindedly tugged on his hair.

“Come on.” Reluctantly, you removed yourself from his lap, taking ahold of his hand as you led him down the short corridor towards your bedroom. It was, as Jesse expected, lavishly-decorated and aesthetically pleasing. It far outweighed the dump he was living in.

“Cute.” Jesse couldn’t help but comment, lips twitching into a smile as he observed your choice of style and the many pillows piled up on top of your mattress. Admittedly, it all felt so cozy and welcoming — it even smelled good.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you watched as Jesse nudged the door closed. The both of you were swallowed by the lower, dim lighting of your bedroom, slivers of orange encompassing your scantily-clad frame.

He pressed closer, hands roaming across your body, one palm gently slipping underneath the hem of your shirt to brazenly grab at your ass. Locked in another heated kiss, your hands moved to push his jacket away, draping across his shoulders.

The sensation of your fingers roaming through his hair was enough to make his knees weak, a low groan resonating within his throat. You tasted sweet, like the twang of strawberry chapstick and the citrus seltzer you’d been drinking at the party. Jesse kissed you again, greedily this time, one hand cupping the curve of your hip.

As the two of you fell onto your bed in a feverish heap of limbs and mouths, you withdrew for a moment, getting yourself adjusted. You prepared to remove your shirt until you saw Jesse laying there, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion was scrawled into his face, as if it were a permanent feature.

“Are you tired?” You asked, more concerned about his state of wellbeing. You were getting hot and bothered, but your own desire could be put on hold for a little while.

Jesse appeared embarrassed, but with the bags underneath his eyes and the perpetual state of tiredness that hung around him, he couldn’t lie to you. “Yeah,” He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Shit, this feels pathetic. I’m practically blue-balling myself.” He mused, and it made you giggle.

“It’s not pathetic, Jesse.” You reassured, opting to climb into bed and make yourself comfortable. Jesse kicked off his shoes, following suit until he was resting at your side, arms tangled around you. “You look like you’re seconds away from crashing. I think we can put sex aside for now.”

Begrudgingly, he felt you cuddle against him, head near his collarbone as he made himself comfortable with you. His erection happened to push into your rump throughout, but before you could make a playful comment about it, his breathing had steadied.

“Jesse?” You whispered, receiving no response. He was most definitely asleep, and you confirmed this by simply rolling over. His expression was cast into one of bliss, still clutching onto you even through slumber. You sank back down with a smile, and decided to sleep, too.

—

Slivers of dawn’s first light trickled through the gossamer curtains — faint enough not to draw any attention, but enough to signal to Jesse that it was early in the morning. He’d stayed the night, and even then, it didn’t seem real.

You were asleep at his side, still nestled against him, but beginning to stir. Jesse couldn’t tell if it was because you were really waking up, or because his hard-on was protruding into you. He remembered last night — kissing you before he’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t one of his smoothest moments — not by a long shot.

“Hey,” As the haze of grogginess began to lift, you were elated to find Jesse — still in your bed, and still next to you. Even being disheveled from sleep, Jesse found you to be astoundingly gorgeous. There was perfection to you that he wanted to drown himself inside of. “You’re here.” You smiled.

“Did you think I ditched or something?” He asked, arm draped around you as you shook off the feeling of slumber. Admittedly, part of you thought he’d wake up and leave, but he proved you wrong.

“A little bit,” You confessed, feeling his hand trace idle patterns into the dip of your waist. You wriggled closer, pressing a soft kiss against his stubbled jaw. “But I’m glad you didn’t.” It was complete and utter bliss, waking up with him — it was the last thing you expected, but you could get used to it.

Jesse huffed, hand dragging from your waist to your face, palm cupping your cheek as he caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Nah,” He smiled this time, cerulean eyes boring into you, becoming lost in the mere presence of you. “Didn’t even cross my mind, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled, eyelashes fluttering in rapid succession before you planted a sloppy, slower kiss against his lips. “What crossed your mind instead?” You asked, careening into the sensation of his palm cradling your face.

Jesse felt much better, no longer plagued by the desire for sleep. Instead, there was something else he wanted — he wanted to pick up from last night. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours, hand skimming toward your thigh.

“Lots of stuff,” He began, coaxing you against him as he answered your question in between a series of heated, needy kisses. “All about you.” Jesse confessed, peering at you through his lashes before his hand gently grabbed at your ass.

“Yeah? Do you wanna show me?” You asked, becoming a bit breathless whenever he kissed you. It was accompanied by plenty of groping, ensuring that you were flush against him as the tension rose to a boiling point between the two of you.

You weren’t about to recoil, reciprocating his kiss with a passionate one of your own, stomach churning with anticipation. Your hand moved toward the nape of his neck, fingers lightly grabbing at his hair. Each kiss was sweet yet sloppy, and you could feel Jesse’s hand underneath your shirt.

“Yeah, I do. Do you wanna do this?” Jesse murmured, ensuring that he wasn’t jumping the gun. You could’ve changed your mind from last night — that was certainly a possibility, and he’d be just fine with it. He was partially on top of you, but he leaned back enough to gauge your answer.

“Absolutely.” You smiled, sitting up enough to get your shirt off, which Jesse kindly assisted with. The both of you sank into a rather peaceful moment, blissfully quiet as he wriggled out of his shirt.

Jesse leaned forward again, capturing your mouth in a passionate, heated kiss, his hands finding the smooth curve of your hips. “You’re so pretty.” He exhaled, feeling that little pang of nervousness. He hadn’t touched a girl since Jane, but he wasn’t about to let himself be thrust into the past, not now.

Heat saturated your skin, crawling all over you like a fever. In the wake of Jesse’s compliment, you felt sheer elation, feeling his lips roam from your mouth to your jaw. His hands were everywhere, inevitably finding their purchase against your thighs. He peppered a string of kisses from your jaw to your neck, though his kisses soon turned to suckling.

“Jesse.” You moaned, haplessly grasping onto his shoulders as he left a series of hickeys on your neck. You felt his digits curl around the waistband of your panties, but he made no motion to remove them just yet.

Your moan was enough to make him shiver in delight, gaze following the path of your hand as you hastily unclasped your bra. You had such a beautiful body — Jesse felt some semblance of awe, snug against you as you got comfortable atop the comforter.

Continuing his previous route, Jesse’s mouth kissed down your neck and collarbone, stopping above your breasts. Even your smell was intoxicating — everything about you reeled him in. “Jesus,” He mumbled against your sternum. “You’re beautiful.” It was an endless string of softspoken praises that escaped him.

He was scrawny, with a lanky musculature — you found it attractive in the best of ways. Your gaze occasionally fell across his many tattoos, committing every detail to memory. Your fingers continued to tug and pull at his hair, body jolting into him when his mouth wrapped around your nipple.

A low groan resonated from his throat, rippling across his chest when you continued to toy with his hair. His hand traced down the plane of your stomach, slipping underneath the elastic trim of your panties. You nearly buckled, writhing underneath him when his digits slipped against your cunt.

You felt his mouth suck and kiss at your breast, in-tandem with the teasing ministrations of his fingers. It was feather-light, enough to drive you to the brink of frustration. “You wet already, angel?” It was almost an incredulous statement instead of a question.

Fuck — the nickname was enough to send shockwaves pulsating through your body. Your skin became awash with warmth, lips falling apart as you peered down, enough to catch a glimpse of those half-lidded, cerulean eyes and the adoring tilt of his lips. Goosebumps snaked across your spine, back arching off of the bed.

Jesse wasn’t dumb — he knew that your reaction was from the nickname. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, pressing a string of kisses from your breast to stomach, tattooed hand curling into your panties as he inched them past your thighs.

“Say it again,” It was a command that fell from your mouth, and not a plea. Your fingers happened to tense within his hair, enough to make his jeans become uncomfortably tight. “Please.” With a breathy exhale, you felt Jesse’s lips trace across the curve of your hip.

He felt his heart hammer with erratic excitement, tongue absentmindedly flicking out to trace across his lower lip. Christ, you looked so perfect like this — Jesse watched you, breathing intensifying as you spread your legs just a little bit. He often walked the line between nervousness and confidence, feeling a sense of boldness swell within him.

His breath fanned across the inside of your thigh, lips ghosting over the soft skin there. Jesse’s gaze remained fixated upon you, glistening with a sheen of lust as he finally began to kiss his way to the throbbing between your legs. “Where do you want me, angel?” Jesse murmured, assuming that he knew the answer.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way — floating, so unbelievably slick and warm that you felt feverish. Jesse brought out a new level of neediness and desperation that you never thought possible. “Jesse,” You moaned, squirming haplessly as you urged him closer. “Please, please.”

Jesse swallowed, wordlessly following the motion of your hand as he lapped at your cunt, tongue dragging along the length of your slit. You were whimpering, one hand grappling at his freckled shoulder. He was so turned on from the noises you made, enough for him to grind his hips into the mattress.

You sputtered a very pitiful apology when your hips bucked forward, but you were met with a barrage of needy licks and a faint moan. Slivers of morning light pooled through the curtains, falling across Jesse as he buried his face between your thighs. His weeks-old stubble rubbed against the sensitive flesh of your legs.

Nimble digits skimmed forward, one palm splayed against your pelvis as the other gripped down on your thigh. You wanted to sob from how good it felt — he was talented with his mouth, that much was for sure. His tongue flicked over your clit, gestures rhythmic and steady.

A knot formed within your stomach, a coil that continued to tighten, threatening to burst if Jesse kept it up. It all felt like some foreign fever dream, but you much preferred the current reality — Jesse Pinkman, eating you out until you cried. You felt his hand brush against yours, a gesture that was startlingly tender.

One hand untangled itself from his hair, deciding to give him a break, going to hold his hand instead, fingers lacing together. You felt his lips begin to purse around your clit, simultaneously eliciting another noisy, elated moan from your lips.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesse hadn’t realized it, but somewhere in the thick of hooking up with you, he was feeling like himself again. It almost felt as if he’d been transported back to a time before he’d met Walter White, to a time where he was slinging crystal and simply enjoying life. Each moan, every little mewl and keen that escaped you was akin to music.

“Jesse,” You panted, breathing somewhat ragged as he lapped at your clit. That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. “Jesse!” You felt him squeeze your hand, a silent reassurance to let go.

Unbothered by the mess, Jesse groaned, feeding off of your orgasm as he lapped at your cunt, ministrations lacking the vigor from before. Your stomach felt like mush, but you wanted him to fuck you senseless — you almost felt embarrassed for how wound-up you’d become.

He was quiet, kissing your thighs as he began to sit back up, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesse ogled you, head cocking to one side before he spoke. “You are so beautiful.” It wasn’t something spoken lightly during sex — you felt it seep right into your bones, genuine as ever.

“So are you.” You replied, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. Jesse crawled up, and in a flurry of unrestrained passion, he kissed your mouth. You could taste yourself, taste him — it was enough to make your cunt throb again, still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Could you, uh …” Jesse mumbled, erection pulsing and rubbing right into the pliant flesh of your thigh. “I want you on top.” He was used to climbing on top of girls and going to town until he ran out of stamina, but he had different reasons this time. “I wanna see you.”

Your heart fluttered within your chest, and you nodded, watching as he rolled over, making himself comfortable atop the mound of pillows lining your bed. There was something eerily intimate in the way that he spoke — maybe it was just you. It was soft and sweet, enough to make you shudder as you straddled his hips.

Reaching for his belt, you unfastened it, moving enough for him to kick his pants off. His hands moved toward your thighs, fingers caressing across your flesh as the both of you worked to remove the final article of clothing. He was quiet this time, staring up at you with a searing, intense look — it was almost adoring.

He was unbearably hard, hips writhing slightly, desperate to be inside of you. Jesse nearly melted at the sensation of your hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few, sluggish strokes, thumb swiping across the head before you lifted yourself up just enough.

Jesse groaned in tandem with you as you sank down onto his length, digits tensing into your thighs as you adjusted yourself, lips falling apart. You reached for his hands, fingers twining together. Goosebumps erupted across his body, chest fluttering with an unshakable warmth.

“Jesus.” Jesse breathed, watching as you stooped down to press your mouth against his, open-mouthed and sloppy. His tongue traced across your lower lip, and you responded by rolling your hips forward. He exhaled, reciprocating with another heated, messy kiss.

He released one of your hands, enough to grip onto your hip, guiding you into a steady rhythm. Your pace was somewhat sporadic and erratic at first, slipping into a natural flow once he held onto you. Jesse groans, unable to keep from staring at you as if you were perfection incarnate.

You whimper, using your knees to rock yourself up and back down, sinking onto his cock until he’s bottomed out. The intermingling of your moans fill your bedroom, accompanied by the faint squeak and creak of your bed frame. “Jesse.” You mewl, feeling his lips smack against your collarbone.

What started as something slow and sluggish had gained traction, your pace increasing slightly. A crackling, familiar heat raced across your body, making your stomach churn with anticipation, simultaneously pooling with warmth.

A soft moan tore past his lips, skin flushing with a rosy shade as you careened forward, one palm splaying out across his chest. “Shit,” Jesse’s voice emerged again as an excitable pant, squeezing your hand as you continued to piston yourself up and down. “You feel so good, baby.” Any little nickname was enough to make you preen.

Heat rippled through you, continuing to consume your body in waves. He sat up, enough to be within reach of you as he pressed a messy, sultry kiss against your collarbone, clamoring for your mouth as you tilted your head downward.

Your hand snaked from his chest to the nape of his neck, gripping his hair once. Your motions became somewhat uneven and less rhythmic as you rocked yourself on his cock, mewling and whimpering, noises intertwining with his strenuous groans. His palm grabbed at the curve between your thigh and ass, gripping you tight as you rode him.

“M’close,” You huffed, prying your lips away from his, only for you to press a trail of haphazard kisses against his stubbled jaw. “Jesse.” Another whine escaped you, followed by a cacophony of lewd noises. Your thighs felt a strain and burn from pistoning yourself onto his cock so many times, heat pooling between your legs.

Jesse was right there with you, though he wasn’t entirely sure where you wanted him to unload, to put it mildly. “Where do you want me?” He asked again, mirroring his inquiry from earlier. You slowed somewhat at that question, but he shook his head. “Keep going.” Despite the sting of borderline overstimulation, he didn’t want you to stop.

Both of his hands redirected themselves to your hips, guiding you along, letting you grind yourself forward, rolling your hips up and back onto his length. He groaned again, forehead pressed against yours, skin feeling as if it were set ablaze. The hold you had on him already was rather ironclad.

He kissed you again, unusually intimate and full of desire, digits groping and kneading into your curves. Your skin felt velvety underneath his fingertips, and your scent invaded his senses, overwhelming him in the best way possible. His cock was throbbing, swallowed by your tight cunt as you whimpered his name.

“Not inside.” You cautioned, breathlessly clashing with him again — all tongue, teeth and want as Jesse nudged you back. With your newfound position, legs locked around his lanky musculature as he rutted into you, you felt like you were seeing stars. “Holy shit, Jesse!” You moaned.

Jesse wasn’t grotesquely well-endowed, but he knew exactly how to utilize what he had. He felt like he’d broken the barrier right then and there, bottomed out inside of you before he pulled out, cumming onto your stomach. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen as thin ropes of slick seed fell across your abdomen.

His chest heaved with recuperative breaths, perspiration glistening along his brow as he hovered over you. The two of you sighed in-tandem, both coming down from a blissful high. Those pretty, cerulean eyes of his consumed you over and over again, fluttering in rapid succession before he lowered himself to kiss you.

It was slow — too slow, almost, but Jesse savored you, instead. Your nails ghosted across his forearm, tracing around the intricate pattern of his tattoo before skimming toward his shoulders. You reciprocated the kiss with a familiar sweetness, unhooking one leg from his waist.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, gesturing toward the sticky mess that was splattered all over your stomach. “You look so pretty like that.” His tone lowered, taking on some delicious pitch that itched a certain part of you, sending goosebumps trailing across your spine.

Before you could respond, Jesse slipped off of you, tugging on his boxers as he wandered toward your bathroom to grab a towel. It was the first one he could get his hands on, returning to you with a rather adoring look in his eyes.

As you cleaned yourself up, making sure to discard the towel into your laundry basket, Jesse reappeared with a glass of water. It was quite endearing, watching the way he took care of you afterwards without being asked to. He sat next to you, watching as you pulled your panties back on and your t-shirt.

“That was really nice.” Admittedly, you needed it — but it felt better than before, all due to Jesse. You curled up next to him, head resting against his collarbone as his palm moved to cradle your face.

“Yeah, it was.” Jesse murmured, wishing that he could stay with you. He needed to get back home — the house was likely ruined. He’d also briefly glanced at his phone and noticed four missed calls from Mr. White’s number. “I wanna do it again.”

You giggled, nose wrinkling in amusement. “Hanging out together or having sex?” You asked, and he scoffed, lips twitching in a brief flash of a smile. “You can be honest, Jesse. I can handle it.”

“Both,” He confessed, savoring the feeling of your hand delicately tracing over the tattoo on his collarbone. “What if I took you out somewhere, yeah? Like on a date.” Jesse couldn’t believe that he’d asked you, but it was out in the open, now — no going back.

“Okay.” You mused, gaze flickering toward his lips. You would never get tired of kissing him — the taste of spearmint and cigarettes had become borderline addictive. “You can take me out.” With that, you leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his.

Jesse exhaled, reciprocating your kiss with one of his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, pad of his thumb caressing over your jawline. “Shit,” He sighed, a forlorn look within his eyes. “I gotta get going. I don’t want to.” He didn’t want to leave, but he had a feeling he’d be seeing you again soon. His phone vibrated again.

You yearned for the contact when he’d rolled out of your bed, getting himself dressed again. Once he found his jacket and keys, you decided to walk him to the door, standing with him in the cool morning breeze. Sunlight glittered down, bathing the both of you in picturesque lighting.

“Jesse,” You murmured, hand poised along the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” You asked, watching him linger around on the front step as he glanced toward his car. After everything that happened, from last night to now, you were a little worried. He wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind — that much you knew.

Jesse hesitated — he didn’t have a viable answer to that. His house was a drug-laden pit, he was beginning to spiral, but you’d kicked him back onto a different path. It was an unpredictable road ahead. Even he had no idea how he’d feel by the end of the day, but one thing was for certain — he’d be okay for you.

He swallowed, and then nodded twice. “Yeah, I think so.” His chest tightened with a flurry of emotions, ones he hadn’t felt since Jane was around. Jesse was absolutely enthralled by you — and he wondered if that would lead to your doom.

With that, you nodded, beginning to turn around. Before you could, you felt a hand curling around your wrist, as if guiding you elsewhere.

“Hey,” Jesse muttered, reeling you back in for a gentle kiss. “I’ll see you later.” It was a promise to himself, more than it was to you. He was reluctant to pull away, but the buzzing in his pocket became rather urgent.

The kiss caught you off-guard, stealing every wisp of air right out of your lungs, warmth creeping across your skin until it burned something hot within your cheeks. You opened your mouth, unable to keep from smiling.

“See you later, Jesse.”

You really hoped that you would.

[spongeofaces]

Matchup exchange for @thecurrator 1/3

---

First of the three matchups! I'm sorry for taking so long with these 🙇‍♀️

Really loved the one you made by the way, super cute.

Hope it lives up to your expectations!

Do tell me if I made any errors, I'll fix it up right away.

---

Romantic

I match thecurrator with...

🐉 Malleus Draconia 🐉

-:-:-:-

Malleus may be an absolute sweetheart of a partner, but he is also new to this kind of relationship. He does try his best, however he may not always know what is expected of him; what's too much or too little. Just be patient with him, okay? He'd wait an eternity for you, after all.

Typically, Malleus talks to others in a respectful yet somewhat cold tone, but fortunately he's comfortable enough around you to drop the polite walls he's built up. At times, he may find himself making small jokes or teasing comments that he usually wouldn't make with anyone else. Slowly yet surely, he'll become more and more willing to act childish if he wishes to, not feeling the same shame he used to when he acted in such a way. You've helped him become a lot more open with his words and actions, and he appreciates that.

As someone who has had personal experience with feeling isolated for a long time, Malleus has made it his personal mission to make sure that as long as the two of you are together, you'll never feel lonely. He needs you to know that no matter the situation, no matter the time, he is willing to be by your side. There's no need to hesitant or worry if you want to ask Malleus to spend time with you, I assure you; he'd drop anything if it meant he could be with you instead.

Malleus can take on any role in a conversation, switching between speaking and listening depending on the current mood. Whenever you speak, he is sure to pay his utmost attention, treasuring the words that leave your lips, storing away any and all information you give him in his head. You may make a one-off comment about a show you sort of like, and a day or two later he'll be bringing it up, having watched some of it to learn more about your tastes. Whether you feel like fast-paced banter, meaningful conversation, sudden rants or complete silence, Malleus is always happy to oblige.

This guy does not hold back on the compliments, always finding some sort of excuse to praise you. No matter how mudane a task you complete is he'll have something positive to say about you. Just by the look of utter adoration in his eyes, you can tell that it isn't empty flattery; he means every word of it. At this point, you find that he's truly enamoured with even your smallest actions and behaviours.

Definitely a gift giver. He'll experiment with different types of gifts, trying to get a read on which kind of trinket you treasure most. At the start, he'll stick to the default gifts, flowers, jewellery, clothes, plushies. The only thing that isn't stereotypical about the gifts he gives, is the amount. You'll be recieving something every other day, some things small, some things large. His gifts will become more personalized as he learns more about you.

He adores spending time participating in your interests with you. He'll organize movie nights or days to binge entire shows, just so he can listen as you discuss the themes and delve into the characters.

He is not going to help with your habit of getting lost in new places, if I'm honest. Pretty sure he'll just play dumb and let you lead you both off-track, feigning ignorance when you ask if he has any clue which way to go. Oh, but he doesn't have any malicious intent, he just finds the act of going on a simple, spontaneous walk with you pleasant.

He'd go absolutely anywhere if only you'd invite him. If he's the one choosing a date location, it would probably be somewhere out in nature, with a pretty view or scenery. He may start getting sappy and compare you to a flower or something, how you react to that is up to you.

Make him a music playlist, and it will be the only thing he listens to for practically the entire month. He might seek you out to talk to you about how he interprets certain lyrics and songs. He's grateful you took time out of your day to make something so thoughtful for him.

You two share the 'unapproachable' vibe. You because of the rbf, him because of his intimidating presence. But hey, at least you two know that the other isn't as scary as they look.

If you ever space out, he'll just sit in silence and watch you affectionately, wondering what could possibly be going through your mind at that moment. When class is about to start, he may poke your cheek to snap you out of the small daze.

Other options: Silver and Jade.

[nats-revival]

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 / 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙨 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: ellie williams x afab!black!reader

tags: told from readers pov and ellies pov, alternates between third person and first person, sorta angsty, fluff at the start, basically ur dina lol, jj isnt here tho, one use of y/n, one description of reader (just hair?? i think that’s it), ellie has ALOT of inner turmoil, reader lowkey knows that tho, great music/artists (not to toot my own horn but the songs and artists mentioned are BANGERS!!!!), sorta canon typical universe, mentions of abby and tommy (not really any actual involvement in the story.. well, sorta ig), ellie refers to reader as ‘she’, and i think thats it!!

a/n: lowkey thinking abt making a part two but everytime i start a series i always end up stopping at the second chapter. 😭 anyways, ill get to finishing those other requests diligently! 😇🙏 also ignore the fact i added hella tags, its prolly like random stuff but just trust me bro its in here!!!

Ellie was acting weird. Like, really weird. After Tommy had come and gone, something shifted inside of her. Like he’d altered her brain chemistry in some strange way. She was much quieter and she was biting her nails — a habit she’d picked up whenever she was thinking or nervous. You stand in the kitchen cleaning up some dishes as a Lauryn Hill vinyl plays softly. Ellie didn’t know much about your music taste but god, did she love it. She loved lots of things about you, your cooking, learning about your culture, how you helped her broaden her outlook on the world with the lessons instilled into you by your parents and grandparents. It was something she valued above all else. You found yourself humming along to the tune of the music and occasionally mumbling the lyrics. The stairs creaked as she walked down them rather slowly. The sound of the record player being on made her wonder what you were up to. She picks up the sleeve the vinyl had been in and she reads it. “‘The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill’? You’re always listenin’ to this record. It must be your favorite then, I presume.”

She walked over to you while you were drying off a plate. “It’s a classic, Ellie. Who doesn’t like this album?” You ask as a small smile creeps onto your face. She’d always made you smile, but it now just seemed like she was trying to deter you from the fact that something had obviously been going on in her mind. She leans against the counter, looking over her shoulder at the setting sun. She hadn’t said anything as she alternates between looking at the sunset, you washing the dishes and nodding her head to the beat of the songs playing. Once the dishes have been washed, you rummage through the cabinets for a small candle. It was one Ellie liked. It smelled like some sweet citrus scent and the label had been rubbed off. You reach into a drawer and pull out a box of matches. You strike it until it burns and you light each wick, then putting the match out. 

   Then, you stop the record and put it back in its sleeve. “I should get you another vinyl. Who else do you listen to?” Ellie asks as she steps behind you. You shrug. “In the old world, I listened to a lot of music. I had a Walkman but yknow, someone stole it.” “That sucks. I had a Walkman aswell at some point. Never saw it again.” She pushes her hands into the pockets of her worn jeans and you nod in response. You let out a little yawn. “I think I’ll go to sleep soon.” You mumble to yourself as you turn to Ellie. “Yknow, for my birthday, you could get me like a.. New Edition one if you could find it.” You suggest with a smile. “You got it, babe. I’ll search as hard as I can.” She smiled softly and kissed your cheek. You return the kiss and begin walking up the stairs.

    You head for the bathroom to shower. The water never got as hot as you preferred but you couldn’t complain. At least you’d been getting some water. The water was lukewarm. Your clothes had been discarded on the floor. You step into the shower and your mind begins racing. You were there the entire time Tommy had been talking to Ellie. You’d opened the door to him. You watched him limp into the dining room. You let him in! You were starting to think that wasn’t a good idea as you washed your body. Ellie tended to rethink her actions and doubt herself a lot. You couldnt like, literally see inside of her mind, but you knew she had lots of inner turmoil. Killing people and the undead coupled with trauma definitely wasn’t an easy task to balance. You could see it in her. But she was addicted to that sense of justice. She felt compelled to protect the ones she loved even if it meant it was self destructive. 

   As you exited the shower, you found Ellie sitting on your shared bed awake. “Ellie, are you not tired?” You ask softly as you dress yourself. “No, well, yeah. I was just.. waitin’ for you.” You nod in response. You wore a pair of shorts and a shirt with some faded graphic that appeared to be from some Mortal Kombat game. You sat next to her and you grabbed her hand gently. Your thumb runs over her knuckles. “Yknow you can talk to me. I’ll listen, Ellie. I’m here for you.” She mumbled a soft ‘I know’ before she leaned her head against your shoulder. The moonlight shines through the windows, gently illuminating your features and Ellie’s. You could hear the windchimes outside swaying with the wind. “Cmon, let’s get some rest.” You suggested as you walked over to your side of the bed. You knew Ellie had a hard time sleeping most nights, and some days it was visible on her face. You just wanted her to sleep for one night. In a way, you knew why she couldn’t sleep. Maybe because she wanted to protect you from whatever may stumble in here while you’re in your most vulnerable state, or maybe because her self-decapitating thoughts were  eating her alive. You laid in the bed, facing Ellie as she settled in the bed. 

    In one hand held her switchblade (she went to sleep holding it most nights.) She looks at you with a tired smile as one of her hands comes up to gently caress your face. “When this is all over, ‘m gonna give you the whole goddamn world.” She mumbled as she leaned forward to give you a soft peck. “I’d do the same for you. I’d get you everything you could possibly ever want.” Moments like these were your favorite moments to have with Ellie. Her words of affirmation, love and even her promises were all you could ever think about whenever you couldn’t sleep. You knew she meant everything she said because of the sincerity in her voice. You smiled to yourself. Ellie saw you and she smiled too. You turn to her. “Ellie?” “Yeah?” “Don’t leave me. Not ever. I can’t lose you, I still have so much to show you.” There was this kind of.. expression on her face. Uncertainty. Worry. Compassion. Her response was small, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d ever abide by this unspoken promise to you. “I won’t.” You smiled softly before you got a little closer to her, holding her in your arms as you drift off into sleep. 

(Ellie’s POV now lol)

She was so close. Holding me as if she’d never let go. Thoughts were too much. My mind is racing. I keep seeing him. Tommy did something to me. I couldn’t just.. leave my girlfriend. The one who’s been with me through thick and thin. A woman like this wasn’t easy to come by, especially during an apocalypse. The moonlight was always my favorite light to see her under. She’d been glowing, god, she was beautiful, ethereal even. The way her braids sprawl over the pillow, her soft breathing, the soft thumps of her heart were all I would’ve needed in a perfect world. The draft coming through the window gave my goosebumps. We’d been laying here for a few minutes. It was amazing how fast she could fall asleep. The switchblade I hold has a reflection from the moons light. I see myself in the blades reflection. I look away.

  Something inside of me screams ‘Go get her. Go kill Abby. Finish the job like Tommy suggested.’ Slowly, I slide out of the bed. Standing in the middle of the room, I realize that there are some windows open. Shuddering, I go to close them. I made sure to keep my footsteps light so the floor didn’t creak. After closing the windows upstairs, I go into the room my art was stationed in. There was a box under my desk containing my journal. I know she never looked through it because I didn’t want her to and she respected that. I flip through the pages of it, looking back at my entries. There’s an entry in my journal. ‘Sometimes, I hear people talking. They tell me to do bad things. I know I shouldn’t. But how do I ignore a voice so loud? I should tell (Y/N). I can’t tell her. I don’t want to ruin this for her. She seems.. happier when she’s not constantly running for her life.’ The note was next to a few sketches of her and moths I’d roughly sketched. I was tired of the voices. I return the journal and walk downstairs to close the rest of the windows downstairs. I stop infront of my guitar. 

  I sit down, strumming a few cords before I stop. ‘Go get her. Go kill Abby. Kill Abby. Show her what pain feels like. She killed Joel. Finish the job.’ The voice was repeating. It was driving me insane. The voices came after we left Seattle. I want the cycle to end. Nothing ends if I just ask it to. That’s in some.. nonexistent world. My skin crawls with this need. Not the kind I feel when I look at her and her beautiful face and body. It was bloodlust. A vicious cycle never ends, that’s what makes it so vicious. This is the continuation of a cycle I can't break. “I have to do this.” I mumble. I move mindlessly as I gather my things and get ready. I have to kill Abby. I feel like my only purpose in life is to protect, sacrifice, and suffer in silence. Killing Abby seems like.. my magnum opus right now. She tells me that ‘violence isn’t the answer’ and to ‘control my urges’ but I can’t.      As I stand in the kitchen, putting the last of my things into my backpack, the stairs creak. She’s awake. Fuck. She wasn’t supposed to wake up. God, don’t look at me. Don’t do this to me, I need to do this— “Ellie? What’re you doing?” Her voice makes me freeze in place. I don’t move. I stare at her. Her tired eyes. The longing in her eyes for some sorta.. normality in her life. Our life isn’t normal and has never been normal. Was anything normal in this life? Who knows. Nobody knows. Matter of fact, I don’t know.

[scaredycatqlt]

Alastor x lithromantic reader??? I thought it would be silly, or if you're not okay with that how about queerplatonic headcanons with Alastor?

Alastor X Lithromantic! Reader [PLATONIC/QPR]

Phew, thank GOD. (Or Satan ig.)

If you have romantic feelings towards him but don’t want them reciprocated? That’s the reaction he has. as long as you’re not trying anything, you’re good and he doesn’t care.

If the feelings are for someone else? He honestly could care less.

Since he’s from the 1940’s, he definitely doesn’t understand all the labels and stuff, but he wouldn’t judge.

I mean, he’s literally AroAce. How could he?

Doesn’t understand why you feel romantic things but don’t want them reciprocated. Just…confuses him. Doesn’t really care though, it’s none of his business after all.

Honestly I don’t think it would have that much of an impact on your guys friendship/QPR.

Oh, also, he wouldn’t call it a ‘QPR.’ He doesn’t even know what that means. But, in a way, that’s kinda what it is.

Contrary to popular belief, I do think he’s not completely touch-repulsed, considering how much he touches other people. (Coming from a touch repulsed person over here.)

He just doesn’t like being touched. For one, he doesn’t like not having control over things. ESPECIALLY what touches him.

but with you, he doesn’t really care. Now you can’t go playing with his hair or anything of the sort, it’s kinda like Rosie-how he lets her touch him and is chill with it.

MUSICAL NUMBERS TOGETHER!!! You guys definitely had atleast ONE. If you’re his platonic partner you have GOTTA love theatrics of SOME kind.

Introduces you to Rosie. Afterall, you two are some of the few demons closest to him. You and Rosie get along great!! ^^

Speaking of which, you three occasionally have like-a tea party together where you basically just gossip and shit talk other demons.

You guys might get mistaken for a couple with how often he hangs around you at the hotel. Anytime someone mentions it he just laughs it off.

Oh, Also, being his close platonic partner means extra protection. NO demon is going to touch you without facing HIM. (Besides Charlie and the others, of course.)

He’s more quick to ‘forgive’ (ignore) things you do that he’d typically slaughter other sinners for. Like accidentally bumping into him or something.

“Oh don’t worry about it, dear! Accidents happen.”

At a certain point, he trusts you with his staff. Ofc you don’t just go waltzing about all day with it, but he doesn’t mind if you hold it.

If you have a phone or piece of modern technology, don’t use it around him unless you want extremely petty comments and glares at said device. He doesn’t want Vox anywhere NEAR you. He also just doesn’t like them. At ALL.

I REALLY enjoyed doing these!!! <3 Alastor is my favorite character, and he rarely gets the nice, accurate AroAce representation he deserves!!! >:/

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[5:18 pm]

(cw: included link to picture inspiration not a reflection of reader’s physical attributes)

It was a habit Chenle had developed early on in your friendship. You leave your phone unattended and find an unfortunate picture set as the new wallpaper of your phone. First, it was pictures of himself, duck face, peace signs, close ups as his eye, or shaky selfies taken in .5. As you both got closer, and as some claimed, a little flirty, the pictures became unfortunate pictures of you.

Movie nights where you fell asleep early, led to you waking up with a close up of your face with an open mouth. A day of swimming would wind up with a new wallpaper of your face mid jumping into the pool. And then there were the moments he would steal your phone from across table when you went out to eat and get a picture of you mid-bite. 

You always changed the background back to what it was before Chenle got his hands on your phone, much to his annoyance. He always groaned and complained about how much you must hate him for getting rid of an act of love- but not that kind of love.

Even though you and Chenle had gotten closer, the relationship developing, it had been a while since you last picked up your phone to find an unflattering picture of yourself or Chenle. It wasn’t something that you gave much thought to, he now had access to your phone when he forced you to tell him your password, he just used your phone for YouTube or games. He was your very own iPad baby, even though he hated when you called him that. 

Your hangouts had evolved with the changing of your relationship. There was a lot more lingering gazes, hands brushing against one another, embraces that were far too long for “just friends”, and flirty banter- which you both strongly denied anytime anyone else brought it up. You never brought up Chenle staring at your mouth, just like he never brought up you leaning in to “just brush the hair out of his face.”

Today, was like your typical hangouts, he came to your place, stole your food, complained loudly the show you were watching, and invaded your personal space.

“Can you get me more chips? Please,” he asked, fluttering his eyelashes as if you could ever even tell him no. 

You groaned, playfully stomping away to get more snacks. It was the perfect opportunity for Chenle to snatch your phone from the arm of the couch, he missed doing this to get under your skin.

He crouched down behind the couch, his plan was to scare you and get the look on your face as the next background. He just had to hope you didn’t drop his snacks, which he really wanted, in the process of getting the picture.

He heard you getting closer, humming along with the intro of the show that was still playing on the tv behind him. He tapped at the screen to open the camera, but stopped. He fell from his squat, feeling a mix of emotions at the wallpaper. 

It was a picture of the two of you taken at a party you both attended a few months back. Chenle was sitting on the ledge of the open window with a hand gently scratching down your back, while one of your arms was wrapped around his neck to keep him close. It was too loud to hear him over the music of the party you had both claimed. He remembers a flash going off from behind the two of you that night and the sneaky smirk of your friend with a camera. He just didn’t know you had ever seen or gotten the picture back. 

“What are you doing down there?” You asked with a raised eyebrow, setting the snacks on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

“Uh,” he swallowed, trying to calm his heart rate, “lives were restored on my game.”

You smiled at him, a smile that was reserved just for him as you settled back onto the couch right behind him. You reached for his hair, running your nails along his scalp in a way that made his heart tingle and rate pick up. 

He cleared his throat and fought back the urge to run and hide, he tilted his head back to look at you, “You know I uh- like you, right?”

You nodded in response, not tearing you eyes away from the screen, “I like you too Chenle, you’re one of my best friends.”

“No, I like you as um- more than a friend, like I don’t like anyone else.”

You smiled at him once again, with that special smile and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I know, me too.”

-

A/N: prompt generator post!

[romiantic]

KISS ME BABY!

KISS ME BABY, first kiss with the atsv characters !

→ INCLUDING miles, gwen, hobie

→ READING: black!reader

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff + partial ooc for like everyone

→ A/N: listen…I tried on miguel’s part, I really did. but I’ll just make it a separate post :( miguel content is coming, I PROMISE

Such a mess, confident as he is as spiderman, Miles was the embodiment of mess. the multiple nervous laugh, his clammy hands that he is constantly playing with, and the tugging at his shirt. You were curious as to what was the cause of his nervousness, was it you? Was it the small distance between you two? What is it? What’s with Miles? You would ask but instead you took a longing look at his facial features; his curly hair that bounces just as much as he does, his amber eyes that tend to shy away when eye contact is involved (or when he’s badly lying), his lean-ish body that comforts you with hugs, and his lips. The lips that were running a mile a minute, speaking absolute nonsense, but were quickly cut off with a kiss. A kiss that was swift but the both of you fell into, the feeling of bliss and your heart feeling fuzzy had grown, your arms trying to hold onto each other while the both of you were gaining balance. Even as you both pulled apart from the kiss, the fuzzy feeling still stayed and your smile grew so bright, and Miles still shy but stuck on cloud nine.

“Wow, that was umm wow! Can we umm…try that again? I wasn’t really ready the first time.”

Gwen, your typical high school spidergirl that stays in her own shell and doesn’t really talk much. If she does talk, a couple words here and there or a quick “yes” “no” or “hm?”. So usage of her lips was definitely not something used often, until she asked that question. What question was asked? “How do you kiss someone?” The question shocked you since you wouldn’t picture Gwen as the affectionate but you were up for the question. You asked where the question came from and she explained that she always wondered how a kiss felt, you looked at her puzzled, head tilted to the side and that look made her immediately shut down the idea. Her head pulled away and her eyes showed immediate regret, though it was awkward, you decided not to let that question go. You gently laid your hand on hers and slowly grabbed her fingers, intertwining them and softly kissed each finger. You could see a small stain of pink on her cheeks but she hid it away, she wouldn’t dare to show her nervousness in front of her partner. But it didn’t stop you from moving closer to her, inch by inch until your shoulders are brushing one another. Your girlfriend’s shyness made you more antsy to grab her face and kiss her right then and there, but rather taking it slow; holding her chin with your index finger and thumb, and subtly inching yourself closer to her lips, and lying your down your lips on hers, guiding her to “kiss”.

Such a high Hobie is experiencing, his eyes lit and his breath shaking after performing in one of the biggest arenas in London. To think your boyfriend would reach this level in your music career felt unreal but it was real, all too real. His band going from local concerts at fairgrounds to opening up for a rock legend has had the both of you in a frenzy the entire night. Of course, Hobie kept his “cool, calm, and collected” look on after the performance, he couldn’t show his excitement on stage, he’d rather share it with his favorite person. You’re all that man could think about, your positive energy, your feedback on his music, the times of comfort when he felt like his music career wasn’t going anywhere, the quiet times of you playing with his wics and humming one of his songs, you were always there. Nobody else stayed longer and fought harder for his career other than you. He couldn’t be any more anxious than sharing this dream turned reality with his partner, which could explain the tight hug he gave you after entering his dressing room. The hug lasted quite a while until he pulled you off and immediately smashed his lips on yours, you were quite shocked at the action but immediately kissed back. You hoped this feeling was endless and that kisses with Hobie would always feel like this; a euphoric sense and some lighthearted sort of chord playing on your heartstrings as his lips guided yours and his hands held yours. That kiss saying everything he was feeling and everything he’s going to tell you after.

⭑ I’m not doing this format again, this was so hardddd 😭 but I love how this piece came out, so imma stop complaining 🫶🏽

⭑ if it seem like I was being suggestive with gwen’s part, I really wasn’t 😭 or at least trying not to

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐃 💗: Proverbs 16:7 !

SPIDERMAN: ATSV MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖺. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[murdleandmarot]

Can you info dump about bluebelle, I’m very curious about her :3

SORRY THIS TOOK A HUNDRED THOUSAND YEARS I WANTED IT TO BE PERFECT

Hi hello!!!!! I will very gladly talk about Bluebelle, she’s the love of my life forever :D 💙💙💙💙💙

Important note: I’m a very um dramatic person when it comes to creating oc backstories. I am nothing if not a little bit pretentious, and giving ocs weird and angsty backstories is my passion project, and that’s part of the reason it took so long to collect my thoughts, and come up with something concrete, (or as concrete as possible)

I’ll start with facts about her that I like and then backstory regarding the fabled music box :))

-her design/colors are based off of a stuffed animal I bought in Munich :)

-the songs I most associate with her, (I have a playlist because I wanted one), are probably A Dangerous Thing/Everything Matters by AURORA, The Sugar Plum Fairy from the Nutcracker, and I came to your party dressed as a shadow. Adore those songs

-the only jellicles that she has met, (by choice), are Victoria, Misto, Plato, and Demeter. Or rather, Demeter knows of her, but Bluebelle doesn’t know Demeter

-this is mostly bc she’s pretty paranoid about meeting new people, and prefers to stick to her people. It took her a while to warm up to Plato, but eventually she got used to him

-this is also despite Vicci’s best efforts to convince Bluebelle to at the very least meet Jemima

-SPEAKING OF JEMIMA, if you haven’t heard, here’s my little jellicle magic theory: The cat’s magic relates to their eyes, just vaguely. Jemima and Misto each have white eyes, and you may have noticed, Bluebelle has those eyes as well. Because she’s. Blue. And that’s not a typical cat color, I figured I should just run with it. I see Bluebelle’s magic as a combination of Jemima and Victoria! Yes, Victoria is magic to me and that’s not just because she’s lovely and beautiful, but because of the way she uses the music in the show, and the way some productions seem to use her as a metaphor for the Jellicle moon, relating it to her dancing. This is especially true for me when I hc Vicci as deaf, because it implies some sort of magic when her solo syncs with the music. Bluebelle has the same sort of music and dance magic as Victoria, and the same sort of eerie unearthly-ness of Jemima. Basically I combined all my favorite girlies into one and made her <33

Really incoherent n convoluted story under the cut lolllll

I’ve always imagined the music box has something Bluebelle has had since she was very young, as in some of her earliest memories are of the tune it plays. Her mother probably gave it to her before both of her parents disappeared like they were in a Disney movie. The point is that it’s one of her favorite things, and she loves dancing to it. Victoria loves the song as well, and they sometimes practice using the music box, and things continue as so until Misto appears, and starts practicing with them.

Because Misto insists that no music is coming out of the music box. He can’t hear a single note.

Neither can Plato, or any of the other jellicles, when Victoria borrows it, and plays the song for everyone else in the junkyard, (Bluebelle doesn’t go with her-she’d rather not meet the others, for fear they won’t like her, or will tell Victoria to stop visiting her).

No one else can hear the music. No one except, of course, for Jemima and the psychic twins.

Bluebelle starts to ask around town, playing it for different cats, until she finds an older tom, not far, though she doesn’t know it, from the Junkyard.

He can’t hear the music box of course, but he tells her that he’s bit of a collector of magical artifacts. Perhaps he’ll have something similar in his collection.

Would she like to take a look?

Bluebelle declines. Declines at least, to visit him on this night. She hands him the music box, and instructs him to take it back to his den, and look for himself. They will meet in the same place the next day, and if he cannot find anything, then she will go and see for herself.

The next morning, they meet again. He tells her that he’s sorry, he couldn’t find anything that matched the box, and that in his haste to meet her on time, he’d left the box behind. The tomcat invites her to his den, and again, she declines, saying she will visit on a later date, that she already has plans.

Bluebelle follows him home, and hides in wait. She watches as his friends gather to scheme, and doesn’t notice the staring of a golden queen hanging off the arm of a blood orange tom.

The acquaintances leave, and the old cat retires to his den. The fire is almost out, leaving her to sneak into the other tent.

…blood seeps from every item in the cramped space, leaving it to drip from the walls and stain the ground scarlet.

He is not only a collector of magical artifacts, but a collector of queens, as well. The music box is the only thing unmarred by the red, so she steals it back.

She swears she can hear him howling the whole trip.

Bluebelle doesn’t tell Victoria what happens. She tells her to steer clear of the cat who could very be Bluebelle’s father, with a coat as vibrant as the sea, and Victoria doesn’t ask any questions.

Bluebelle doesn’t want to meet any of the other jellicles after that. She barely wants to talk to anyone ever again, with the exception of the few cats she already knows.

She and Victoria still dance to the music box though. Misto tries to follow along.

[totallynotlx]

Playing House in the Ruins of Us

You never really had control over your life from the very beginning. You are but a pawn to your clan—a means to expand your family's power. Your marriage to some noble was inevitable, set before you could walk. Meanwhile, in comes Gojo Satoru. A snobby little future head of the Gojo clan, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world. A womanizer. Unserious. And yet, he cannot let you go, a girl who never really had any control of her destiny. You envied each other as you represented something that each couldn't have, yet he is the only escape from your cruel world… but in exchange for your sanity.

Aka, Gojo learns to mellow down… but he is not going down with a fight. And neither are you. Why would you fall in love with such a self-centered (but gorgeous) man?

Notes: Canon-divergent. Gojo adopts Tsumiki and Megumi when they're a bit older. Some events also happen a bit later on in the timeline.

A/N: Bruh, this is such a fever dream. It's been a while since I've written anything, so pardon me if I'm rusty. I blame this lanky ass white-haired little meow meow for bringing me back from the dead. We came up with the whole story in two sittings… So yeah, we know how this goes, and we planned to make it hurt. We are just your typical hurt/comfort enjoyers uwu

Tags: Arranged Marriage (Reader to someone else), Eventual Smut, Smut, Drinking Games, One Night Stands, Masturbation, Porn Video (oop), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Words: 13.3k

Ao3 link if you prefer

✦﹒chapter 1: encounters over drinks﹒✶﹒﹒

A glass clinks. A nearby clock ticks endlessly. The music is booming, but he can barely hear it with how he's feeling. He takes a swig from the amber drink from his glass, sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge, not hiding the prettiest snow-white lashes. One of the few reasons he earned a couple of stares from people around the nightclub. Except for the neon lights flashing every couple of seconds, there is no reason why a person would need sunglasses in a dark place like this… Well, an average person anyway… and he is anything but. Pristine albino white hair dangled freely on his forehead, hiding the most luminous cerulean blue eyes one will ever see. He is incredibly tall. His feet reached the floor despite the tall bar stool he was sitting on. Eye candy is an understatement to describe him. Girls would ogle from across the room, daring each other to try and talk to this man who seemed out of place. He looked almost too elegant for a nightclub. One particular girl started to make her way toward him. Her strides are confident, hair swishing with each step she took in her high heels. Unbeknownst to her, he was painfully aware of her approach, a smirk already forming on his lips. The girl sat down to his right and was about to order her drink when he called the bartender instead.

"Make her whatever she wants. My treat." The voice was almost melodic. The girl internally noted a tinge of playfulness and boyish charm dripping from his voice. "Ah,  where are my manners? I’m Gojo, Gojo Satoru.” He extends his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Sleep slowly escaped from his grasp. Blue eyes slowly take in the early morning rays of the sun. The room was unfamiliar but neat, and Gojo slowly took in his surroundings. He could feel the slow breathing of the person beside him and remembered the heavy breaths and sweaty bodies giving in to pleasure and passion. 

Right. That happened.

He sat up, scanning the room for his clothes. They were all over the place. Guess he had a fun night. A smirk creeps up on his lips as he slowly gets off the bed, careful not to wake up the person beside him. He slowly picks up his clothes on the floor and puts on his pants, brushing his hair away from his eyes. He picks up his sunglasses and puts them in his pockets before leaving the room. He heads to the kitchen and grabs and sips a glass of water before getting another drink and returning to the bedroom. He sets the glass on the bedside table before putting his shirt on, not bothering to leave a note before teleporting away. 

In the blink of an eye, his surroundings changed as naturally as one would breathe—perks of someone with complete mastery of their technique. The penthouse apartment he owned was mainly empty except for the minimalistic pieces of furniture. Gojo Satoru wasn't the type to decorate as he didn't spend much time in this house, traveling all over Japan, sometimes even overseas, but he kept his place tidy. He drops his sunglasses on his kitchen counter and heads to the shower.  

He turns the showerhead on, letting his hair get soaked as he stares at his feet. Another night, another woman. It's always the same old song and dance. Who wouldn't? In his experience, no other person has been able to resist him. A smile, a suggestive head tilt, a flirtatious conversation, and they'd be head over heels. It was too damn easy.

He continued to prepare for his day. Despite being a bit hungover, he still has responsibilities to the jujutsu world that he cannot escape from, and his day has barely started.

A loud ringing stirs your peaceful sleep, and you open your eyes just as the sun's rays pierce through the gaps in your curtains. Even the little light filtering into your room makes your eyes hurt as an aftermath of your all-nighter. Studying and practicing the law wasn't something you wanted to do, but you're already in too deep to back the fuck out. It's the weekend after your exams, and you wonder why the hell your alarm was ringing… or was that even an alarm? You drowsily fish your phone from your bedside table and realize it's not an alarm but a call.

Shit.

In the next hour or so, you try to make yourself as presentable as possible. Scouring your wardrobe for one of your formal kimonos, you tie your hair in a neat bun before heading down from your apartment. As told by your mother over the phone, your family has sent one of the family cars to fetch you. When he spotted you, the driver headed out to open the door for you. You silently got in the car, and it wasn't long before the engine started.

You were heading back to your clan's ancestral home for a discussion. A discussion you would rather not have: your marriage arrangements. Your marriage to another powerful clan's son was already set in stone when you were born. Everyone in the family was abuzz with excitement the moment you turned eighteen. Not just because it was your turning of age but because you can finally be a pawn to your clan's motives to become a more powerful, prominent clan in Japan. You scoff at the idea. If not for their offering you freedom in exchange for your obedience, you would have left long ago. Despite taking your choices for a longtime partner, they let you choose your profession. They allowed you out of the house and gave you your apartment. A small price to pay if you are being honest…

You reached the compound gates, greeted by the same old trees and rows of houses you knew growing up. As you approach the main house, you steel your nerves, looking into your phone one final time to ensure you are "perfect" before the car stops and the driver opens the door for you. You put on the bravest face as you step out of the car and into the house, taking a deep breath as you do so.

You've met your fiancé before but have yet to like him. And whenever you two were to spend time together, you both found new ways to disagree. To say that you never got along was an understatement… and to think you are resigning yourself to this fate. You two were to join families, produce children to carry on your families' bloodline, and stay together for better or worse. God, you both hated each other for no reason other than that the other represented each other's misery.

The discussion took forever, and the sun was already setting when you exited the house— as much as you were relieved it was over, the clan head's decision rang in your head loud and clear: Next spring, they said. When flowers are in bloom, they said. It'll be a beautiful wedding, they said. Neither you nor your future husband utters a word or opinion. Never looked at each other, just plastering fake smiles and nodding in agreement with whatever they recommended. You sigh as you enter your apartment, putting your slippers neatly on the genkan. You headed straight to your bedroom, eager to get out of your kimono as if it was contaminated. It was the weekend, and you're sure as hell not letting some shitty ass marriage discussion ruin your mood. You worked your ass off during the week on your studies, and it was finally time to unwind. Yes, tonight you needed release. A little bit of freedom. A little bit of control over your decisions. 

In a couple of hours, you walked up to the bar of your favorite exclusive nightclub. You had no intention or plans to be there, but what transpired earlier that day warranted a night out instead of a night wallowing in your misery and sleeping it off. You ordered your favorite drink, a lemon sour, and after downing a glass or two, you danced with anyone and everyone in your vicinity. 

Gojo Satoru had also seemingly found himself here. He'd made himself a little non-sorcerer friend after saving him from the malice of a curse. This guy had no way of thanking Gojo other than getting him into this club. As to how this man had exclusive rights to invite guests to said club, Gojo had yet to learn. Very peculiar, honestly. So he went. He went to drink his night away. He went to find his next delectable prey. And fate moved you to each other just as the moon pushed water to land.

After dancing for maybe an hour or so, you wanted another drink, and that was when you noticed him. This white-haired man, seemingly, gets beer as any other average person. In comparison, you get another lemon sour. You stood beside each other respectfully, waiting for your drink, when he looked at you. He hadn't entirely decided who he would devour next, but a salacious smile spread on his face when he saw you. If he only knew that he, too, was nothing but prey that night.

When you approached the bar, you noticed him immediately. And you knew you weren't the only one. It had taken every nerve in your body not to stare at this white-haired man, who stood out slightly more than the other men in the club. I mean, with that hair and those tinted glasses, who wouldn't notice him? But you'd instead break your wrist before being caught ogling him. 

He slowly leaned towards you, "Such a sour drink for such a sweet-looking girl," he bent down to your ear. You shivered. His sensuous and breathy voice had you licking your lips. God, his voice is delectable. You steal a glance at this man. And you catch a hint of blue behind the glasses that sat low on his nose. Pretty, you thought, and it took everything in you to steel your nerves and discreetly clear your throat.

"You're one to talk. Your words don't match your eyes." You tell him, earning yourself a chuckle, and you're convinced that this man is blessed by the gods.

"Why? Pray tell what you think they are telling you, hm?"

"Your words are flirtatious, sweet even, but your eyes... It looks like you're already undressing me with them." You raise an eyebrow. A challenge.

Snarky, gotta love that, Gojo thought. He likes a good challenge… especially if it's worth it. And you look like you are… and if there's one thing that doesn't lie, it's his Six Eyes.

"What if I am?" He smirks, and you feel the wind knocked out of your lungs, and you can't help the heat that travels to your face. How did one sentence affect you so much? You thought you were both hunters looking for prey, but with one look, he has you feeling like you are nothing but an easy target. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" He smirks at you before you blink the confusion out of your eyes. You immediately grab your drink and down it, hoping to give you some of your boldness back. He laughs as you down your glass and orders another. "Whoa, slow down there, hotshot."

You raise an eyebrow at him, the gears in your brain turning your mind-to-mouth filter off. "Those won't be the words coming out of your mouth tonight." You smirk.

At the moment, you wish you could have captured it. The way his eyes widened and darkened with arousal. Satoru didn't expect the spark he noticed in you was not just an ember but a full-on flame. 

"Oh? Is that a promise?" He leans in closer, his face inches from yours, and you can smell his cologne. 

"Hm. Maybe." You answer as your next drink arrives. 

"Y'know, I never got your name." He whispers to your ear as you stare at your glass, trying to distract yourself more than anything. You slowly turn to him, meeting his eyes. Even in the dark, you can notice how luminous they are. 

"Dance with me, and maybe I'll let you know." 

You didn't have to say anything before he downs his beer and takes your hand towards the dance floor. The music comes and goes, and so did the both of you. You and this mysterious, handsome man alternate between dancing and drinking the night away. As time goes on, you get more and more drunk. The next thing you know, you were stumbling to the nearest hotel with him. The next couple of hours were a blur. All you know is the heat that trailed after his touches. The passionate kisses that were borderline bites all over your body. This man was unlike any other you've ever shared a night of passion with. He not only had the stamina, but he made sure that you felt every ounce of pleasure he was feeling. He was nothing short of amazing.

The morning creeps up too soon for your liking. The bed felt strange, and an unfamiliar warmth emanated from beside you. You rub your eyes with your hand when you hear a light snoring beside you. You struggle to open your eyes and can only guess you only have a few hours of sleep. When you finally open them, you see the man beside you. His face was peaceful, his breathing steady. Due to the dim lights, you couldn't notice it the night before, but he has the prettiest and longest lashes you've ever seen. So, it does match his hair… You thought like you haven't seen his— 

He stirs. He reaches out to you and pulls you close, which catches you off guard. That's also when you realize that you two were skin-to-skin. It wasn't new, but sleeping beside such a gorgeous being made you conscious of yourself more than usual. You stay still for a few seconds until you feel him relax again. Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were holding, you unwrap his arm around you. You get out from under the covers and try to leave the bed quietly, picking up your clothes scattered around the room. There was a visible limp in your step. God, that man had you writhing under the palm of his hand all night, and it shows. Slowly, you tried to put your clothes back on, making yourself as presentable as possible. You turn to the en suite bathroom to wash your face and fix your hair. Walking was still uncomfortable but tolerable, and you gave the sleeping man in the bed an almost offensive side-eye.

"Fucking bastard with endless stamina." You curse under your breath with a shake of your head. You would be lying to yourself if you were to deny that last night was similar to an out-of-body experience. I'll outdo him next time, you thought, as a defeated laugh escaped you. The thought was wishful thinking as the chances of meeting this man are slim, and you probably won't meet him again. You walk and reach towards the door, opening it as quietly as you can before closing it behind you. 

One ring. 

Two rings.

Then another.

Gojo grumbles as the sound rouses him from his deep sleep. He stretched an arm to the other side of the bed, seeking warmth, but it was cold. Forcing his eyes open, he looked around the room but found no sign of his alluring companion. 

Another ring brings him out of his reverie, and he sighs. He kicks the covers and hops out of bed, looking for his pants where his phone buzzed. He rummages through his pockets for the damned thing and sees Principal Yaga's name on the caller ID. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he presses the answer button. 

"Gojo speaking~." He says in a tone that will most likely annoy the older man. 

"Satoru, where the hell are you?! You're late to the meeting. AGAIN. " His former sensei admonishes.

"Yes, yes, I know." Gojo scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Gimme thirty minutes, and I'll be there." Yaga begins to argue about his attitude, but Gojo quickly ends that call. He drops his phone on the bed and sighs again. 

Well, that's new. Gojo thinks to himself. That was the first time that he overslept on a one-night stand. Usually, he's the one who leaves the other person first. This was a first, even for him. He didn't want to admit it, but he slept comfortably beside that woman. He wonders internally if he'll ever find her again, but he doesn't dwell on it. The strongest doesn't dwell on the minuscule things... lest it leads to... other things. His musing is cut short as his phone buzzes. Another message from Principal Yaga. 

I didn’t even get her name. He thinks, disappointedly, before he finally starts preparing for the meeting he was already late for.

The week after that felt familiar, other than the uncomfortable fact that you could still feel the consequences of your weekend escapades. Working on your studies that Monday felt like it took ages. Sure, the long hours kept you preoccupied, but you would be lying if your mind didn't wander to that gorgeous stranger you had a fun night with. It's a shame you couldn't get his name, but oh well. With your marriage arrangements finally official, meeting someone wouldn’t change a thing.

Another few weeks pass, another week of savoring the last year of your freedom before you get sold off to your fiance. By the following year, your whole life would be shifting. And that idea irks you. Your independence is closer to a sham,  but at least it allows you to do whatever you want. You're guessing that after the wedding, both clans would demand that you two do your responsibilities of continuing the bloodline. You don't even love the man you're going to get married to! And they expect children from that?

I need a drink. You thought, massaging your temples as you looked over the school papers you were working on. 

8:00 PM, the digital clock reads on your screen. It was still pretty early, but you felt the fatigue deep in your bones. God, you felt so tired. You stretch your back and briefly lean back on your chair before closing your eyes. 

You don't remember how it happened, but you somehow ended up in your bed. In your exhaustion, you may have just crawled to your mattress. You were comfortable enough, but you could audibly hear someone else in the room with you. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you realize two things. One, your wrists are bound above your head, secured by one large hand. And two, soft lips and warm hands trailing your upper body.

"What the—"

"Shhh..." He murmurs before kissing your neck. It took your eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the dark before you could recognize the familiar white hair.

"How—? A-Ah, how did you find me?" You manage to ask as you feel his hand travel from your side to cup one of your breasts, and you tremble at the touch, just like that night. "I didn't even give you my name—"

"Mmm..." He hums, lips sucking at your skin. You were sure it'd leave a mark. "Call it luck, but I just had to find you."

At this point, his thumb started to brush over your hardened nipple, and you let out a gasp. "Ah! Wait—" 

"Such pretty noises." He comments before his lips meet yours. His hand that was massaging your nipple, now ghosted over your skin as it traveled down your body, back arching toward his caresses unconsciously.

Apart from his touches, your brain is going haywire trying to understand how this nameless man had found you. You struggle to push his advances back as you lay down helpless. His kisses lingered, and everywhere he touched ignited a fire within you. He left you panting,   wanting.

"Aww. Look at you... You're already a mess, baby. And I've barely done anything." He gives you a smirk as he lets go of your wrists. His large hands grab you by the hips, and he pulls you to him.

You squirm but don't retaliate anymore. The man before you groans at your unintended movement, and he uses it to his advantage. He rubs his erection against you, and you moan.

"Yeah? Tell me. Let me know how much you want me. Show me how much you missed me."

You wake with a jolt, almost falling from your chair. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt hot all over as your heart pounded in your chest. One sentence rang in your head as you tried to steady your breathing, "What the fuck was that?"

Gojo lounges in his office lazily. His mission was shorter than expected, the curse being a tad weaker than he thought it'd be, making him available for the rest of the day. He opens his phone and looks at the time. It was almost nighttime, and surprisingly, his schedule was free. Well, he had been taking more jobs recently to let off steam and due to this it was recommended (forced) that he take a break. On his way home, his mind wandered back to that night. He remembers how her hair was sprawled on the pillow, how loud her moans were, even the sting of her nails digging crescent moons on his back as she pulled him closer, deeper .

He didn’t want to admit it, but she was the first one who kept up with him all night, and the fact that she was the first one to leave the hotel was remarkable. Especially after all he put her through. He could have kept going in the morning but knew he shouldn't because of the way she was heaving and quivering by the end of the night. God, she was gorgeous, though. She looked so good as sweat dripped down her body, and how she responded to his body was heavenly.  

He shakes his head lightly as he pockets his phone after changing. He rummages through the drawers of his room, looking for one of his casual sunglasses. He didn’t need to look at himself in the mirror to know he looked good. Instead he walked past it and the empty wall behind it. It wasn’t always empty. There used to be pictures and decorations but that was another time. He’s no longer that person anymore.  He leaves the room without a second glance. 

"Well, whatever." Shrugging, he begins walking out of his apartment and towards the nightclub where he met you. He then swaps his blindfold for his glasses, ruffling his hair down before he teleports away.

When Gojo arrived, there were a fair amount of people—groups of people on the dance floor, a series of bodies intertwining. Some are on the lounges, drinking, talking, or making out. He notices a free spot by the bar but not one sign of the familiar face he hoped to see. Sure, he could have easily tracked you down using his family connections, but the strongest jujutsu sorcerer doesn't chase after women; women would beg to crawl into his bed every time. 

He takes one of the barstools and sits. He doesn't drink alcohol often, so he orders his usual beer. It doesn't take long before his order arrives, and he takes a tentative sip before scanning the crowd again. Still, no sign of her.

Well, it doesn't matter if she's not here. There's always another. And Gojo was right. Not long after, a woman begins to walk towards him. He didn't need to, but he lowered his glasses down his nose to "take a good look" at her. He gave her a tilt of his head, and the way she smiled at him was all the sign he needed. It was always way too easy. 

The case that you studied today dragged on longer than you liked. It was a difficult one that you had to pull unexpected extra hours of research, and you were rushing home to be able to change for your usual nightly shenanigans. Decided to go to a more casual bar this time as you didn't really have time to doll yourself up much, and seeing as to how stressed you are about your studies, you just wanted to let off some steam. You get out of your clothes as soon as possible, shower, put on one of your casual dresses from your closet, and bolt out of the house. As much as you didn't like yourself turning into an alcoholic, with your situation? Sometimes, a drink is all that makes you forget. 

Even though it's the weekend, only a couple groups of people are in the bar. A few played tabletop games, and a couple sat on the lounges and listened to the live band. The atmosphere was just what you needed after a hard day's work. You approach the bar with plans to drink the night away.

Gojo saunters towards the bar a couple minutes after you. He surprisingly had the weekend off again. Apparently, he didn't notice that he was going on a rampage against the curses all over the city. A blessing and a curse, as per Principal Yaga. As much as he appreciates it, he doesn't want Gojo to overwork himself. He already upholds most of the jujutsu society, so he had him take the weekend off.

It was just an impulsive decision to come here. Gojo doesn't drink that often, and after last time's failed attempt to find that woman, he wasn't hopeful. He sighs as he enters the bar, eyes downcast, and he plans to stay here for a couple hours before switching to his usual nightclub. Music was already playing over the speakers, and he could hear a group cheering over some games; that's when he looked up and spotted a familiar silhouette by the bar. Any other person would doubt their eyes due to the dim lights, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one looks at it), he was blessed with keen eyes in his case. His strides become more confident as he approaches the bar. He sits beside you, seeing the same drink you had the first time you met.

"Why's a sweet girl drinking such a sour drink?" Your head turns almost immediately to the familiar question. "Yo~!" He gives you a playful wave of a hand and a wink as he gains your attention. "Mister, give me a beer and another of whatever she’s having." He says before turning to you. "My treat."

You raise an eyebrow at the man before you. It's him again. "Well, if it's on your tab, I'll get some wine instead." You smirk at him.

"I see we're feeling fancy tonight," a devilish smile on his lips, "Mister! Scratch my first order. Give me a bottle of your finest wine." He remarks as he grabs the bottle and two glasses the bartender slides towards him. "Why don't we take this to a table instead? Care to join me?"

"As long as you keep supplying the alcohol," you laugh as you follow his lead.

Gojo leads you to one of the empty tables and kicks the chair instead of pulling it for you since both of his hands are occupied. You shake your head at the gesture but appreciate it anyway. He pours you a drink setting the wind down, and you mutter thanks under your breath. 

You grab the bottle and pour him a glass, as well. "So, what brought you here tonight?" He asks, breaking the silence. You look at him for a few seconds before shaking your head no. You take a gulp of wine, and the man before you chuckles as he watches. 

"That bad you don't even want to share, huh? Alright, keep your secrets," he says with a smirk before taking a sip from his own glass.

You sit there in silence before he breaks the ice again. "You come here often?" 

"After a stressful day at school? Absolutely." You scoff, swirling the drink in your hand.

"Hmm..." He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Enough about me." You wave him off before he can even ask another question. "What brought you here tonight?" 

"I usually hit the bars first before I—" He cuts himself off. Before I go to the nightclub and find a woman to bed tonight. 

"What? Say it, where are you going?" You challenge.

"Nah, nothing important. And, no place is as interesting as here right now." He smirks, and it almost makes you blush. "But I digress. What's got you drinking so much this late in the evening?"

You give off a sound between a scoff and a laugh. "What is this? 21 questions?"

A mischievous grin spreads at that thought. "You know, that's not a bad suggestion." He comments. "But maybe we could switch the wine for some harder liquor for that. What do you think?"

"I'm not saying no to a free drink." You shrug as you finish your glass of wine. He smirks and gestures to order a bottle of shochu.

"Alright, you can start since you didn't answer my first question." He gives you a mock pout, and you can only laugh at him.

"That's very kind of you." You tell him as you start thinking about what questions to ask this mysterious man. "Okay, I got one."

"Shoot."

"What's the worst date you've ever been on?"

"Never been on one." And you look at him with disbelief. "No one wants to hang out long enough for that. It's always the bedroom." He shrugs.

"No fucking way. How the hell have you not been on dates?" With that face and all. But you keep that last thought to yourself.

"Hey, you only get one question. Drink." And so you drink a shot, the burning sensation of the alcohol lingering in your throat. "My turn." It takes him a few seconds before he asks, "Are you a cat person, a dog person, or something else?"

"Definitely a cat person. Not that I ever had one." 

"Really? I thought you'd be a dog person." 

"Ah, ah, my turn now." He gestures for you to continue. "What do you do for work?" Without hesitation, he drinks, and you give him a sideways glance. "Alright, keep your secrets then. " You tell him as he chuckles.

"Do you like coffee or tea better?" He shoots you his next question.

"Coffee, the more bitter it is, the better. And you?"

"Tea, but very sweet."

"I never thought you to have a sweet tooth." You remark as he shrugs once again.

"My turn. Why are you single? Or at least I'm guessing you are..."

Well, that's a no-brainer. You mentally thought before taking a shot.

"Alright,” he lets out a laugh at how quickly you avoided that question, “Moving on then." He comments as he braces himself to be asked the same thing, but the question never comes. Instead, he finds you deep in thought for your next question. Huh.

"What's your love language?" 

"Hmm..." He takes a second to think. "I'm not too sure."

You gesture to his glass. "You gotta drink." And so he does, and you watch as he downs a shot, eyes wandering to his throat as his Adam's apple bobs as he drinks.

He sets down his glass and pours you another. "Alright, my next question... What are you most proud of yourself for?"

Gojo's watchful eyes fell on you as you answered the question silently and drank without reluctance, the alcohol going down smoothly now that you've had a couple shots. You came here tonight to rid yourself of your problems, not to think of them.

"Oh, it's like that then."

"Shh. My turn." You shush him as you pour him another. "Have you ever had your heart broken?"

He drinks, and you mockingly scoff at him. "Are we just going to avoid all the difficult questions then?"

He smirks at you as he finishes his glass. "Double question~." He says in an almost sing-song manner as he pours you another shot, motioning for you to drink. You purse your lips together in mock irritation before drinking anyway.

"My turn again." He says as he pointedly looks at you. "How do you like to spend your free time? Or rather, what's a perfect day for you?"

You think long and hard about your answer. Given your situation, your home life could be better. You've never known "normal," even as a kid, not when you were raised as your family's pawn. You sigh before you drink. Again.

"You gotta be kidding." He looks at you inquisitively. "There's no way you don't know what a perfect day is for you... Do you mean to say our little night of mischief a couple weeks ago wasn't ideal for you?"

You shake your head with a chuckle but don't say anything. Sure, you usually end up in other men's beds during your nightly adventures, but it's not really something you would consider perfect. You gesture to his glass. "Double question. Drink."

He puts his hands up in surrender before downing another shot. You can feel that the drinks are starting to affect you, and you feel lightheaded, but in a way that you don't remember why you were drinking in the first place. It was like the first day you met him. He made it easy to forget everything other than the now. You internally thank fate for this mysterious white-haired man with pretty blue eyes who kept you company. Ah. 

"What's your favorite thing about yourself?" You blurt the question after that line of thought.

He laughs heartily. "My face." He says without any doubt, which makes you look at him in disdain. "What? At least it gets me laid." He adds as he wiggles his eyebrows at you with the same boyish smile you remember from your first meeting. The same smile he gave you in your fever dream of him, the smile that hinted that he was up to no good. Oh god... You look away, but you know it is too late. You felt your cheeks heat up, your eyes widening as if you were a child caught stealing candy from a jar. "Oh! So you agree!" He notes with such excitement, trying to steal a look at your face as you look away.

"Oh, shut up!" You pushed him away, but really, it was understandable.

"Aww, you're no fun~" He sounds sulking but settles down before asking his next question. "Fine. My question. Where would you go if you could go anywhere?"

That makes you pause and consider. "I'm not sure. I've never really thought about that. I've never been too far out of the city." Not with your family holding you by the neck.

"Tsk tsk," he waves an admonishing finger at you, "drink. That's such an ambiguous answer."

You fidget with your glass before you down your shot. You can barely feel the aftertaste of the alcohol with how much you have drunk. "My turn. Who is the most important person in your life?"

With no hesitation, he drinks. 

You look at him in a bit of a shock. His eyes look somewhat distant than it was a second ago. "We should probably start hitting the harder stuff, huh?" You suggest as you try to reel him back to reality.

"Agreed. Especially if you keep asking these types of questions..." He shakes his head with a defeated laugh. Shortly, he stood up and ordered another bottle of drinks from the bartender. As he approaches, you recognize the bottle of whisky in his hands.

Well then.

He opens the bottle and pours you a glass before settling down in his chair again. "Oh! I got a good one."

"Go for it."

"Have you ever cheated on anything or anyone?" 

You take a second to think. You think about your marriage arrangements... Is it still considered cheating when you've never been with your fiance? You don't even have that kind of feelings for each other. Ah, shit. Internally, you erase the thoughts as quickly as they came and drink instead.

He gives you a sideways glance. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Stop asking double questions. Drink." You scold him with a subtle slap on his arm. "But to be fair, that's karma for the last question." He rolls his eyes playfully as he downs another shot.

You lean into the table as you hold your glass in your hand, trying to get a good look at this mysterious stranger's face before presenting your next question. "What would you change if you could go back in time and do something differently?"

A look of sentimentality bleeds into his eyes, and Gojo briefly thinks of Amanai. There wasn't a mission after that where he didn't think of how much better he could have handled things. Okay, nope, not tonight. "You're asking some real tough ones, huh? But unfortunately for you, I'm not answering that either." He says before taking a swig.

"Whatever." You say with a laugh and drink with him anyway as the alcohol starts to cloud your mind. 

"Have you ever failed at something?" He asks, swirling the drink in his glass. 

Not even a split second later, you find yourself chugging your drink. You think about your situation, and even though you have your current freedom, your family still controls most of your life. Well, it's not that you failed to get your liberty entirely. Still, you didn't succeed either... and you don't plan on elaborating on that tonight. Meanwhile, Shoko and Geto's faces flash before Gojo’s mind, and he finds himself drinking after you on the same question he asks. The drinks even hit harder on your next question.

"Have you ever made a promise that you didn't keep?" You ask him just out of curiosity. He doesn't say anything and feigns a laugh. He sure is thinking about the past a lot tonight. It takes him a second to down his shot, the questions getting more instinctive than the first few.

"Who in your life most makes you feel a sense of home?" He throws you back a question just as quickly. You reflect on it. Your childhood flashed at the back of your mind. It wasn't a welcome memory. Sure, you were given all your necessities, but that was all. It could have been better. And right now? You don't think there's a place you call home. You drink a mouthful of your drink as it is easier to swallow than explain that in detail.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" You blurt out almost spontaneously. He opens his mouth to answer but stops before the words leave his lips. Instead, he reaches out for his glass and drinks. You give him a once-over, and his question follows not even a second later.

"Do you believe in second chances?" He asks.

"Hmm... That depends..." You rest your cheek against the palm of your hand. "You know what, never mind." You add, before drinking. Surprisingly, he takes a drink with you.

You wipe your lips with your thumb before asking him your next question. "Have you ever changed your mind about something you were once sure about?" 

The back of a particular black-haired man flashes again at the back of his mind. Ah, fuck it. Satoru internally cusses before grabbing the bottle and chugging it. As he places the bottle back on the table, you smirk. You take it from his hand before taking a swig. So many questions. So many drinks. And both of you were just being tight-lipped now.

"Alright, last one." He smirks right back before leaning into you. "What's your name?"

You peek at him from under your lashes before intertwining your hand with his. "I got something more interesting for you." You remark as you stand up from the table, dragging him out of the bar.

He smirks at you, knowing. He wanted to bury his memories; he knew you could help him with that.

Unlike last time, this time you ended up in the first-class district of the city, courtesy of this white-haired man. You may not know his name, but one could think he’s filthy rich. Being able to book such a luxurious hotel in this part of the city on a whim. You should have known better about following rich men around this part of town, but here you are, cuddled up to his side as his fingers traced circles on your skin. 

Gojo keeps himself awake this time, feeling your warmth against his body. Everything felt... perfect. And that felt weird. Nothing felt right since that incident in his life, so why was he feeling this way now? He leans into you, letting go of his initial thoughts as his cheek settles on your head, inhaling your scent with a smile. You smelled like cherry blossoms in full bloom. The calm before the storm that's called his life. The sense of normality. He hated to admit it, but maybe he was hoping to see a glimpse of you anywhere because you brought this sense of peace to him. Only one word could describe what he is feeling right now: satisfied.  

"Hey? You still with me?" He murmurs, and he feels you nod against his side. Another surprise. Usually, the women he beds wouldn't be able to keep up with him, but if the first time you met wasn't much of a hint that you were different already, this confirms that. "I'm surprised you're still awake."

"Mm... barely." You say with a slight giggle. You can feel yourself slowly drifting to sleep.

"Then sleep." He slaps your arm playfully, chuckling after you. "You deserve that much." He remarks, turning to his side before he pulls you close to his chest and sighs contentedly. 

Another month passes in the blink of an eye. Your mind wanders as you take a pause from working on your paperwork. It was a weekend, but after that last meeting with your tall, silver-haired friend, you haven't had the chance to go clubbing recently. Every case you handled the past month took it out of you, making you crash and sleep whenever you had the opportunity. You wonder where he is now after you left him in the hotel. Now that you think about it, you've already done that twice, never leaving him anything. He probably won't pay attention to me again if we ever see each other. You thought disappointedly before taking a sip of your coffee. 

You sigh as you turn your attention to your surroundings. The cafe is quiet except for a few people. It's one of the few places you love in this cursed city. You love the brewed coffee here, and it is your go-to whenever you have to motivate yourself to work on weekends. You switch your focus on the pile of documents you have to review on your table. You are making progress, no matter how small, but it felt like you weren't doing enough, not even when you've been pulling all-nighters. You sigh at the thought.

"Ah! It's you!" A familiar voice exclaimed, and you turned towards the sound and blinked at the figure you saw. The friendly white-haired man trotted towards you with visible happiness before settling on the chair across you. He's right before you, but you refuse to believe it. He was wearing a dark, zip-up-looking jacket with a high and wide collar and pants of the same color, his signature sunglasses surprisingly absent. His hair and those blue eyes look even more vibrant with his outfit— 

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He smirks. You recall that callback from when you were caught staring at him. And you're doing it again. With that, you are brought back from your reverie.

You shake your head lightly, blinking your eyes from your daze. He's really here. Weirdly, fate makes you two meet whenever and wherever. "What are you doing here?"

He shows you the bag of kikufuku he had brought from a popular store you recognize. Now you remember that night you were playing 21 questions—almost what? A month ago now? "Ah. Sweets, of course."

"I was in the area while... doing some stuff for work." He states. "And for your information, before you start accusing me like everybody else, I'm not slacking off either. I just finished early." He says almost too proudly. You now also remember that he didn't elaborate on his line of work. And with his outfit? It didn't stand out enough to be recognized.

"I see." You shot him a look of suspicion and curiosity as you grabbed your iced coffee from the table to take a sip. He glances at your current work desk. His pretty eyes darted from the strewed papers everywhere and the few books and notebooks that were open on specific pages before returning to your face.

"Law school?" He gives you an inquisitive look.

"Yeah."

"Hmm. That explains your drinking habits." He remarks with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up. I needed to let off steam." You wave him off.

"And let off steam, you did." He gives you an enticing look, and you lowkey feel the heat travel to your face. You furrow your brow and bite your lip as you look away. "Aww, don't be shy now. You and I know we both enjoyed those nights."

That you cannot deny. 

"What? Are you suggesting that we make this a regular thing?" You joke, trying to at least take control of a little bit of the conversation.

"Your words, not mine." He smirks. The bastard. 

You narrow your eyes at him, though his smug look doesn't even melt for a second. So, you decide to play his game. "Well, third time's the charm?"

His smile becomes more expansive as he leans in, taking his phone from his pockets and sliding it across the table. "Give me your number then."

You roll your eyes playfully as you let out an exasperated sigh. You take this man's phone anyway and tap your contact info away. As soon as you were done, you handed him back his phone, fingertips grazing his large palm.

"L/N Y/N, huh?" He says, reading your name out loud. It was the first time you've ever heard your name sound so sweet upon another person's lips it was almost intoxicating. You nod silently as he starts typing away on his phone. A few moments later, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to check. 

From: Unknown Sender

Gojo, Satoru sent you his contact info

“Gojo?” The surname sounded very familiar but you couldn’t put a finger on it right now.

“Yep. That’s me. But please, call me Satoru. It’s finally nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You have your nose stuck in a book that Monday after your classes. A research paper was due in the next couple of weeks, and you were trying your best to focus on getting your shit done earlier than the deadline to be able to review your work. It was barely the start of the week, but you couldn't wait for the weekend for many reasons.

When you met at the cafe, you and Satoru agreed that you could meet on weekends only if both of your schedules permit. Keyword: If.

"I'm not promising anything, but I'll try. Things might get busy now and then, and I might have to work on my papers on the weekends, too." You can hear yourself say to him as you sip your coffee.

"I don't mind that. At least I can get in touch with you now, unlike before when I'm just relying on chance on when I'll meet you and where." He shrugs as he eats the second slice of the cake he ordered. Good god, what a sweet tooth.

"Hey, I'm serious." You furrow your brows at him. "I can't make this a ‘normal’ regular thing," you tell him, "so don't expect much—"

"Ah, ah. Don't even worry about it." He waves off your concern. "I wouldn't even consider giving you my number if I wasn't amenable to adjustments."

Satoru has been texting you for the past two days. Asking you about your day or what you have been up to. You have been at the back of his mind, and he's been struggling not to let it have a more physical effect on him. But to his dismay, he was more hung up than he thought. 

It was the evening of Sunday after you met him when he lay awake in his bed. It could be more accurate to say that he couldn't sleep as he tossed and turned in his bed uncomfortably.

"Fuck." He huffs, covering his eyes with his arm, restless as he lays on his back. He peeks at his crotch, wincing as he sees his stiff erection. For what fucking reason was he feeling this way? He doesn't know, but thoughts of you swirled around his mind endlessly, how your hands would look so dainty, held by his big ones as his other hand travels all over your body. How your scent lingered on the bed as it did the last time you slept in a bed together, how his lips would feel against your smooth, supple skin. 

This shit is not helping. Satoru thought to himself, sitting up. He reaches out for his phone on his nightstand. He stood up, pulling his pants to peek from under it. It was so bad he was leaking. An intrusive thought flits through his brain, and he smirks. He takes his phone to snap a photo before tapping a message.

To: Y/N

*You sent a photo*

Thinking of you tonight. I hope you sleep tight~ Coz I know I won't.

The moment you saw that picture, you almost dropped your phone with a squeak. Now that you're sober, you realize how massive Satoru is. No fucking wonder he got you limping that first time you slept together. The sentiment makes you take a sharp inhale of breath, putting your palms together as they start to sweat. Insufferable. But it was your type of "insufferable" not that you’d openly admit to that.

Back to the present, you try to distract yourself with your notes. A few students were littered all over the library, but overall, it was quiet. Well, other than your heavy breathing, probably. A few minutes pass, and you try to bury yourself in your papers, attempting to forget about the photo incident. Your phone buzzes a few moments later.

From: Satoru

What are you up to?

To: Satoru

School stuff. I'm at the uni library.

From: Satoru

Boring stuff?

To: Satoru

Yeah. What about you?

From: Satoru

Working. I'm in the suburbs of Tokyo. Hopefully, it doesn’t take long. 

To: Satoru

Good luck. 

From: Satoru

Are you sure I can't see you any time earlier this week? 

You bite your lip. Heavens, you would love to see him, too, but your busy schedule said otherwise. You would kill for a break from your academics, but the deadline for your research paper is fast approaching, and you can’t afford any distractions.

To: Satoru

You know I can’t… Not right now.

You sigh as you press send. You thought that would end the conversation for now, but you were wrong.

From: Satoru

Aww, c’mon, babe. I’ll make it worth your while~

You can almost hear the lilt of Satoru’s voice through the text message, the playful tilt of his head, and the smirk plastered on those pretty lips. You try to erase the image of him before typing your reply.

To: Satoru

No.

I’ll let you know if my schedule changes.

Sent. This time, instead of pocketing your phone, you opt to put it in your bag, away from you, so that you won’t know when Satoru replies… because if the last message he sent you was any hint, you know he definitely will.

For the rest of the afternoon, you worked non-stop, only taking pauses in between to take bites of the snacks you bought. I should get some real food after this, you thought. You made some progress, much to your satisfaction; not enough to be ahead, but progress nonetheless. As the day ended, you wanted to reward yourself a little, hoping to be as motivated again for the next day. You gathered your things and started to pack your stuff when you caught a glimpse of your phone in your bag. You grab to check it, curious if Satoru replied to your last text.

From: Satoru

Oh, believe me, it will.

You don’t hear from Satoru after that last message. Not a text or call in sight. Alright then, you thought, but you didn’t dwell on it. You have more important things on your plate right now. You can take care of Satoru on the weekend. You continue to work on your papers until late evening, until your phone beeps. The blue-eyed man’s name was splashed on the screen, and the preview only showed an attachment instead of the usual text message. You furrow your brow, intrigued as you pick it up. What is he up to this time?

From: Satoru

*Satoru sent an attachment*

This is what you do to me.

The video starts dark like the camera was face down on something. There's a slight rustling in the background before the view clears. Satoru's face comes into view, flushed, and he is biting onto what looks like his shirt, exposing his upper chest. His pristine white bangs stuck to his forehead as sweat glistened on his skin. You can hear something from the background, too. Something rhythmic, something... wet. Your brows furrow as you fail to comprehend what that was until the camera turns black again for a split second before you see the same sight you saw in the photo he sent a couple days ago. Only this time, he has his fist around his cock. His movements were slow and deliberate. Hushed moans escaped his lips every once in a while. Your eyes widened, and your jaw fell slack at what this man had sent you, but at the same time, you couldn't take your eyes away from the video. 

"This is what you do to me."

The statement rang in your mind, loud and clear, making you lick your lips. All of a sudden, you feel parched as hell. The video continued to play, and your eyes darted from one detail to another. How big he was, the vein that ran around his length, how slick he was as he fucked his hand. You squirm unconsciously in your seat. 

"Fuck..." The curse trails off from his lips. "Maybe I shouldn't be thinking of your body too much." Satoru's voice had an audible quiver as his movements never faltered. "But hey, I'm letting nature take its course... and leave you with a little preview of what you can expect over the weekend if your schedule remains unchanged." You note a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. He's still trying to persuade you, it seems.

The silence drags on for a couple seconds before his voice returns. "I know you are as excited as I am for the weekend. You just hide it well." He lets out an arrogant laugh. "I want to feel you squirming under me. Your body, sprawled on the bed, slick and ready for me... Have I ever told you how much you fit me just right?" He continues as he teases his tip with a thumb, and you notice his legs tremble a bit from the stimulation. Oh, he's so sensitive. 

" I wanted to be on top of you again. Kissing you. Biting you. Marking you as mine." He rambles on. "I can almost feel your fingers pulling at my hair, trailing down my shoulders, your nails scraping my back." 

"I'd hook my thumb under your chin, tipping your head back, giving me access to that pretty neck of yours." He takes a sharp inhale, his breath hitching. "I want my tongue on your skin, tasting your sweat. God, you make me so fucking hard, baby... But I'm not in any rush. Especially since I won't taste you until the weekend, right? I gotta slow down and stroke slow." He laughs, but there is a noticeable tremble in his voice this time. "Savor every last bit since you're out here starving me." You can almost see the teasing smirk on his face.

He was true to his word, though. His strokes never stuttered. It was the same unhurried pace. Only his moans filled the air, coming and going as you excitedly eyed what he'd do or say next.  

"My kisses would move lower, down your body, slowly." His voice deepening. "Down the hollow of your throat, your collarbone, then to your chest. My hands would linger over your perky breasts, fondling them, giving them what they deserve, what you deserve."

"God, what would I do to worship your body right now." He says through gritted teeth. "I'd press myself down onto you. Legs intertwining as I grind my cock against your thigh."

You notice his pace quicken before he speaks again. "I can almost feel your hands move down my body. From my chest, trailing down my hips before squeezing me at the base." He groans. "Mm, it's gonna be hard to take my time once I see you over the weekend, babe."

"Fuck, I want you. Now. I want to feel you tightening around me. Me, bucking into you as you close your eyes and your mouth falls open, moaning my name." He blabbers on. "Your nails leaving trails on my back. Your hair would be a mess. And speaking of messes," he says as he taps a finger against his tip and a string of pre-cum stuck to his fingertip as he moves it away, "I'm already making one right here, just for you."

His breathing was starting to get erratic. The way he was holding the phone was also getting more and more unsteady as it blurred with each stroke. "Maybe... maybe hold your wrists against the bed," he says, "leave you writhing as I try and find out all of your weak spots. You'd pull me against you, squeezing your legs around me."  

The camera adjusts as you can almost feel how hot he must be from just watching. "And I'll, uh, I'll, uhm, I'll lean down," he starts to stutter, "slide two fingers into your mouth, tell you to suck as I kiss down your neck and grind down against you." 

His pace quickens once again, his strokes getting more erratic than calculated. "We'd both be dripping wet. Push my fingers deeper, telling you to swirl your tongue around them. Fuck... Then I'll pull them out of your mouth, slick with your spit. I'd trail it down, down, down your body before ending up in between your legs. Press my wet fingers against you before pushing slow and deep, letting you ride my hand."

Another sharp breath is heard in the video. "Fuck, I'll slide down between your legs, wanting to bury my face into you. I'd slide my tongue to replace my fingers, eating you up. Oh god, I'd eat you out so good." He moans, his voice changing into a deeper pitch, sounding something closer to a whine, if you were being honest. "I can't even fucking think straight. The only thing left in my head is you. Oh fuck... Your taste. Your scent. Your tight heat. Your thighs squeezing my head. I'd want your hands on my hair, guiding me deeper into you. Oh, I’d love to use you to get off. I just want all of you… and I know you’d want all of me, too. Oh fuck... I'd— I'd let you cum with my mouth on you. Fuck... Oh, goddamn it. Oh fuck, Y/N. I need you—" His rambles were cut short as he came, ropes of cum spilling over his hand. He continues to stroke himself a little more, riding the high until the very last moment.

"Oh fucking hell..." He laughs nervously before switching to the front-facing camera with his free hand. His face was flushed, his shoulders heaving. "I can't wait for the weekend, baby. Then I'll show you how badly I've missed you in person." He snickers at the camera before taking a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing. "Fuck... I'll talk to you later. Bye, babe."

The video ends... but you feel hot all over. He came with your name on his lips. You didn't even realize how hard you were gripping your PJs. Your knuckles were white, and your breathing was uneven. God, this man's promiscuity knows no bounds, you thought as you took a deep breath before typing a reply.

To: Satoru

Meet me tomorrow.

Satoru goes about his day with renewed enthusiasm. From the perspective of his other colleagues, it was almost creepy. The Six Eye user was always known for his happy-go-lucky attitude, but they can tell there's something... different. He smiled smugly, thinking how he quickly got you with the hook, line, and sinker. Ever since he was little, it was easy to get his way; it was always that way. He may have matured over the years, but living life where you're considered an anomaly in the jujutsu world gives a person a sense of pride. The hum of the car engine was steady as he went through the city streets. It was a rare occurrence that he had to drive himself around. As much as it could be funny to let Ijichi fetch and drop you both at the hotel, he thought he'd spare the man some mercy today. Satoru only drives a little as the managers (mostly Ijichi) do that for him for missions, but today's an exception.

Lights flickered on in his vision as he passed them by. The sun was setting, and people finally heading home from school or work littered the streets as he leisurely tapped a finger on the steering wheel to the beat of a nameless song playing over the speakers. He wore his usual work clothes, the same old zip-up long sleeves, but he ditched the blindfold for the more normal round sunglasses. As much as he wanted to change into comfier clothes, he didn't have enough time. Doesn't matter. It's not like the clothes will stay for that long anyway , he thought with a smirk as he pulled up on the street of your university. He parks near the entrance and gets out of the car. He leans against it, takes out his phone, and taps you a message.

To: Y/N

I'm here by the entrance. 

People who passed him spoke in hushed whispers, curious about who this stunning man was waiting for, but he paid them no mind. Nobody came close compared to you... Well, right now, anyway. Anticipation bubbled in his stomach, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on you. Oh, the things he'd do to you tonight. He pockets his phone back, closes his eyes, and lets the early evening breeze ruffle his hair. 

"I'm sorry I'm late—" A familiar voice approached him, and his eyes immediately snapped toward the sound. You looked like you just ran a marathon to get to him. "Class dragged on and—?!"

Satoru hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close, kissing you without warning. Your eyes widen as you try to push him away, but that only encourages him, and he deepens the kiss, holding your face steady as he does so. A moment later, you both come up for air. You could feel your warm cheeks, and you felt like your mind was melting. 

"Satoru..." You say his name, breathless. "Not here." You scold him, but really, it was a half-hearted effort. He says nothing but lets you go just enough to open the car door for you, hand still lingering on your hip.

"After you," he gestures, and you bite your lip before getting in. He follows suit shortly after, going around and getting in the driver's seat. Not even a moment later, he leans in, his large hands cup your cheek again, and leans in for another kiss. A kiss that could easily have you jumping over to his lap—

"Satoru," you call his name when he lets you go, "we can do it here, but decorum says we shouldn't. " You tell him before he sighs in surrender.

"Fine." He rolls his eyes playfully. Not today… but maybe someday. He smirks at the thought as he starts the car. He keeps a hand on your thighs throughout the drive. His fingers caressed you in ways that had your imagination running wild. At some point, you had to hold his hand in both of yours just to keep your desires (and sanity) in check.

You both make it to one of the luxury hotels downtown. You are in disbelief. Every instance you slept with this man, he has taken you to different fancy hotels. Mind you, the other two occasions were spontaneous decisions, further proving that he either has a high-paying job or he's from a very wealthy family. In conclusion, he's rich as fuck. He stops by the hotel entrance, gets out of the car, and goes around to open the door for you. As you both enter the hotel lobby, he lets the valet take care of the car. The room was spacious; lounges were scattered along the hall's walls, and a few people with fancy outfits walked past occasionally. You felt out of place with your casual clothes, but at least you weren't the only one. Satoru kept his arm around your hip, making you struggle to keep up with his long strides. He pulls you close, breath caressing your ears, "I sure hope you're not having second thoughts." He teased before giving your ear a nibble as you approached the front desk. You let out a hushed gasp as you try to push him away, but the effort only makes him chuckle. Your eyes dart around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to you other than the clerk squinting at you judgingly, making your cheeks flush. 

"Good evening. Do you have a reservation?" She mutters monotonously. She eyes you from head to toe. What's her problem?

"Ah, yes." Satoru chimes in a little too enthusiastically. "It's under my name. Gojo Satoru." 

For the next few seconds, the woman taps away at her keyboard. "The penthouse suite, correct?"

"Yep. Nothing but the best." He smiles before hooking a finger under your chin, making you look at him before his lips meet yours. Your hands clutch at his clothes instinctively. You hear the front desk clerk sigh disapprovingly as if saying, "Get a room," or, in this case, "Wait for your room."

Satoru doesn't seem to notice or care for the matter. He smiles at her cluelessly after kissing you as you both wait to be checked in. He was handed the keycard shortly after before he started guiding you towards the elevator.

Two things happened as the doors closed. One, the tall man corners you at the far end of the elevator. Two, his leg slipped between yours as he cupped your face, crashing his lips against you again, this time more passionately. More hungrily. His large hands fiddled around the edges of your blouse, fingers slipping underneath, making you shudder. His carefree demeanor suddenly disappeared into thin air, catching you off guard. Your mind clouded as his tongue found yours, and you couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped your lips. He unexpectedly breaks the kiss, and you suddenly find yourself stumbling towards him, trying to chase after his lips. He smirks, waving an admonishing finger toward you.

"Greedy."

"Me?" You look at him, confused. "You were the one that couldn't wait." You shot back as the elevator dings. 

He only gives you the same signature smirk before dragging you out of the elevator towards your suite. He taps the keycard on the door, and as soon as it clicks open, he pulls you inside. The door slams shut from the outside world. It's only you and him now, no more, no less. The thought alone makes him let go of his other inhibitions. He backs you to the doorframe, caging you in with his arms. He stares at you, eyes hungry with want, making you look away, feeling a tad too self-conscious.

"Don't look away." He tells you. He cups your cheek, making you look up at the tall man. Your breath hitches at your throat as he kisses you again. Whimpers escape your small frame as his other hand continues its interrupted tour under your top. He only releases your lips as he slowly peels your blouse off, exposing you to the room's cool air. He devours all your sounds, tongues intertwining as your hands slowly and instinctively find the back of his neck, trying to further deepen the kiss. After a fleeting moment, his other hand moves to your back, unhooking your bra easily. Your hand moves to his zip-up jacket in return, unzipping the thing impatiently and slipping it off him. His smooth immaculate skin shouldn't have been a surprise, but damn, his chiseled abs, lean muscular arms; his body is a work of art. Your mouth waters at the sight, but he doesn't give you any time to process that information further as he grabs you by the wrist and turns you around. You brace yourself with the palms of your hands and bend down just a little without even thinking, grinding against him. 

He pauses, making you look hurriedly at the man behind you. "I'm so glad I'm not the only one feeling impatient." He remarks before you feel his hand fiddle around the button of your pants. His skillful fingers only take a second before he's unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. He slowly slides it down your legs, and you step out of it when it lands on the floor. Kisses snake up your legs and thighs before he spreads your folds with his thumbs. You feel his hot breath against your cunt, watching as it starts dripping . He barely did anything to you, yet you are already a mess. He gives it a kiss. Then, a lap of a tongue. You gasp at the sudden motion, and he grins. He's tempted to eat you out, but there will be other chances. For now, he needs you. He needs to be inside you. He slowly stood, trailing kisses along your lower back and shoulders before ending at the back of your ear. With the way he leaned against you, his erection was grinding at you deliciously, promising the pleasure that was about to come. He teases your clit with two fingers, making you arch your back at his movements.

"Fuck, baby. You sound even prettier than I imagined," he whispers. "All those pretty moans, all for me. Did you moan like this when I sent you that video earlier this week?" He asks as his free hand, the one caging you by the doorway, moves as you hear the rustle of his pants as he tries to undo them. Satoru's cock springs free, and he wraps a hand around his base, starting to stroke himself. God, he can't wait to be inside you.

"S-Satoru." Your voice quivers as he rubs you relentlessly. "Fuck... Mmm, so good..!"

And that's what pushes him over. Hearing his name come out of your delicate mouth. He lets out a sharp breath, almost a hiss, as he pulls his fingers away. "Fucking hell." He curses as he hastily aligns his cock against your entrance. "You ready for me, babe?" He asks as he rubs the tip against your leaking cunt. "Heh, I think your pussy can answer for you, huh?"

His movements were electrifying, making your skin prickle with anticipation. "Sa-Satoru~," you whine, "stop... stop teasing..!"

"Tell me what you want then." His voice is condescending. His tip barely slipped inside you, making you feel even more deprived. "Tell me how much you want me, need me ."

"Fuck, Satoru..! I need you. I need you inside me. Please..!" The whines that escaped your lips were almost automatic. He smirks, realizing how much he has you wrapped around his finger.

"Hm? You gotta be more specific, baby." He taunts, rubbing his length between your thighs, making you dig your teeth into your bottom lip. "Tell me what you want."

The sounds of your mewls mingled with the sloppy sounds between your legs made your head spin. "Fuck, baby, please. I need... I need your cock. I need it— Ah!" Not even a moment later, he pushed into you, gripping your hips so hard you think it'll bruise. Your face contorts in pleasure at the sudden penetration. He takes it so achingly slow, your mind blanks and  you can't even discern whether or not you want him to go further into you. You may have been drunk the first two times you've fucked, but you remember this feeling of fullness. The photo and the video were proof of that, too. But now that you're sober, your brain is short-circuiting at how big he is. He reached places you couldn't with your hands or toys, making your toes curl. 

"You like that, babe?" He taunts you, pulling back a little, then pushing back in. Giving you something, but you need more. You dig your teeth into your lower lip, suppressing your whines. When he is met with silence, he pulls back all the way back before slamming back into you. The gasp you let out sounded so sinful it went straight to his dick. He groans at the way you are already clenching around him. "You can keep quiet all you want, but this pussy can't lie. Not to me." He remarks before he slowly starts to move. He wouldn't have moved until you've begun formulating words again, but fuck was he impatient. He couldn't wait a week, for fuck's sake, and he'd be damned if he were made to stay still for a minute longer. He kept a steady pace, hitting all your spots. Heat starts to pool in your stomach fast as he slowly but surely amps up the pace. Your knees feel like jello. You would have buckled a long time ago if it weren't for his hands on your hips, pulling you in and out onto him. 

"F-Fuck! Sa-Satoru..! Too much!" You cry out in pleasure as he lets out a breathy chuckle from behind you.

"Aww, don't say that. I've barely started with you." He says as he starts to slam into you deeper. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and you could guess that anyone passing by the door would be able to hear your cries. "I know you can take it. So take it like the good girl you are."

A broken moan escapes your lips. Your skin prickles as you feel yourself tethered over the precipice of pleasure. Although Satoru wanted to stay in control , he couldn't help his needy groans echoing in the room. God, he felt so desperate. It's like he hadn't had anything like you before, and it's addicting. He leans on you, lips latching onto the back of your neck, sucking, kissing, biting, marking you as his.

"You take me so well," he whispers against your skin. The closeness makes you reach an arm to the back of his head, trying to pull him into you. He whispered words of praise as he planted fleeting kisses upon your forehead. With each moan that escaped your pretty lips, his resolve to make this last longer, crumbles. His movements started getting erratic. His fingers dug into your skin as you tangled your fingers in his hair with each thrust. Your body felt so warm. Your legs started to tremble as you uncontrollably clenched around him tighter.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna cum—" His words were cut short as he crashed his lips against yours, muffling your cries and groans. "Cum with me, baby. Fuck, cum with my cock inside you..!" He demands. Your body responds to him not a second later. The waves of pleasure that washed over you as he emptied himself inside you sent you to your ecstasy. Hiccups wrecked your body as it trembled, and he rode every last second of it. You let out a whine of complaint from the sensitivity, but he pressed soft kisses on your temple while murmuring words about how good you were. He lets you catch your breath before pulling out of you. You let out a groan of complaint at the sudden emptiness, but he makes up for it when he carries you bridal-style in his arms. You lean into him as you open your eyes to see this man, eyes drooping.

"Hey, don't tell me you're already tired?" He smirks at you. "The night is young. And I'm sure as hell not done with you yet."

A couple more weeks passed after your last encounter, and despite your initial agreement with Satoru, there were times (multiple times, by the way) that this rule was disregarded. Every time, you told him it would be the last time. It was broken every time, and you always found ways to justify it. You needed a break from your studies. You wanted to see him. Being with him just felt that good. You couldn't help yourself. And so did Satoru. He found himself craving your presence, your touch, your kisses. He found that his thoughts seemed to wander to you even when he was at work. His smug smiles were proof of that, not that Ijichi appreciated seeing that. It gave the man the shudders.

As you submitted the last of your papers, you left the campus feeling lighter as all your headaches now seemed to float away. It was almost the weekend, and it was finally time to unwind. You take your phone out and start tapping away.

To: Satoru  

How's work going?

Not a minute later, your phone buzzes.

From: Satoru

Boring... And you? Done with school?

Now that you think about it, he has yet to tell you about his work. To be fair, after your drunk questions, you have yet to bring it up again. Not that you have any reason to. He hasn't done anything that would raise your suspicion. 

To: Satoru

Are you just slacking again?

You snicker as you send the message. You've heard Satoru complain about his job sometimes. Something about the elders? His superiors maybe? He tends to grumble about how they're such a pain in the ass.

From Satoru:

Hey! I wasn't slacking! &lt;;(๑`^´๑)>

Not today, anyway. 

You suppress a laugh bubbling from your throat.

To: Satoru

Alright, alright, don't pout. Are you still at work?

From: Satoru

Nah. I just finished, actually. Wait for me by the entrance. Let's go out and eat! There's a cafe I'd like to try out!

You can literally hear the elation from his text message. His sweet tooth knows no limits, so it seems. Well, at least it gets you free coffee, which works well for you.

To: Satoru

Okay. See you there... then my place tonight?

Your face heats up as you bite your lip in anticipation. You suggested that you take turns visiting each other's houses for the past couple of weeks instead of meeting up in hotels. As much as you've proven that this man is filthy rich, you didn't want him spending such unnecessary money over impromptu overnights at luxury hotels. 

From: Satoru

Sure, babe ;)

Comments from my beta reader/co-creator while checking the draft:

I know I wrote the timeline but you didn't have to do it

I don't wanna read this fic anymore

I'm gonna highlight all of the things I hate in this fic *highlights the whole document* /jk

I don't want to involve myself in the demon shit that this is *skims a paragraph*

He is wearing his ugly ass onesie

I know what I said but don't @ me

Stay tuned for Chapter 2! uwu

Lemme know if you want me to make a taglist for this!

[lefluoritesys]

So I, as an alter in a semiverbal system and therefore sermiverbal myself, will! :D

Welcome to ways our system communicates that are not voices!

@dei-rising

Music. One of the first ways we learned to communicate was through music, songs, and beats! Sometimes certain melodies and lyrics help us communicate what we feel better than words do. Obvious enough, but when it comes to communicating through music, it's a bit more complicated than that. We have music channels with everybody who we talk to so we could "call each other out" or send songs to each other that we think others might relate to, which is our way of saying "we hear and see you." Our alters also associate with songs, and sometimes, when one of them is coming over, we can hear the song play in our head. Or sometimes even whole backstories and memories can be explained in songs and work the same! Our robots are, by far, the most interesting. Our co-host, also an alexithymia holder, has a feature "installed" in them that plays songs that explain their emotions since they can't do it on their own. Not out loud, only they can hear it, but it's effective and helpful for them to identify what they feel. We express whole stories and personalities through music.

Feelings. Easy one, or so it seems, but still needs to be explained to a lot of people as we figured it out. For us, it feels like feelings are being passed on, and as though you got the opportunity to, say... touch a ball with something inside, but there's a capsule that doesn't let you touch it or feel it on your hands. We're dissociated from the feeling and would forget it when it's taken away, but we won't forget the understanding that we got as to what it is. Sometimes, that capsule breaks, and we're covered in sticky emotions that are not ours, and it's hard to get it all off, especially since it breaks in so many pieces. Like pieces of slime that you keep finding all over the apartment and clothes after you drop it. Some of it may never go away, hidden in the darkest corners of your mind, but there nonetheless. A lot of the times, the feelings we get from other alters help us identify who's coming. Some of their energies feel cold, dark, and low for some reason, some are completely different. Those same energies, but mixed with feelings of excitement and satisfaction come when we're scrolling through same Tumblr and see something that alter likes. They basically go, "Reblog this! Save this one for me!!"

Images. The amount of times I was talking to someone in the system or outside of it and had images shoved into my head for one reason or another... I can't express just how much lmao. Whether it be memories or images of inner world places... sometimes, when one alter fronts, they ask for memories of what happened before they fronted and have them shoved in their head by the previous fronter. We don't communicate via images much. But there are definitely times when it's easier to just shove something in another alter's head than have to explain it, especially if you already explained it once.

Videogames. Don't even get me started on how much we used FNaF as a way to communicate and understand the world around us. It wasn't even about making others understand it as much as it was for us to understand ourselves. Explain the world around us to ourselves when nobody else seemed to be able to. We always felt different from others and had a different langauge than others, our favorite games, especially FNaF, became that language that helped us describe to ourselves the things we couldn't describe verbally. All those "silly made-up storylines" that typical people would enjoy as a show and move on, but that we would put in our own small world (which we now know as our language and our inner world).

Inner world sign language. Or just simple inner world language that is inaudible or impossible to translate to the outer world. We have our own sign language and regular made-up languages, and for both, we don't hear voices! Actually for the most part, we feel emotions, since our main inner world langauge is very much emotion-based. We can't hear what another alter is saying, but we understand them perfectly clear. It's an amazing way to communicate emotions. Same with sign-language, except we also have movements that we also may not see but understand. Many times, when I was mute in literally every way possible, somebody else would watch me sign and translate it for others around me. Some inner world (including ours) also have telepathy, which technically counts as voices since the perosn is making their voice known in your head, but some may count it as nonverbal communication.

Looks and body language. You know those action movies or books where the main character and their sidekick give each other those "special looks" and silently understand each other? Some of us who have spent a very long time around each other in the inner world do the same! It's probably only happening because we share a head, but it's really effective when you're talking to someone outside the system. I (host) could give our co-host The Look,a nd they'd know exactly what I want from or want to say to them.

Co-consciousness/co-fronting. The co-con feeling of sharing memories, feelings, and emotions (and others). That passive influence that you get from another perosn in co. That's also, at least for us, nonverbal communication! Cause when it does come to talking to someone outside the system, or even isnide, you may sometimes need to know the other person's boundaries or limits or memories. What best way to find that out than to aks that person to step in co and feel waht they're feeling or remember what they remember and better understand how to go about the situation or what to say, amr?

Continue if you have any more ideas!! I'd love to hear other's methods of communication that are not voices!! /g

-host

[fandom-nursery]

Hi I just saw that u like vox machina :] I loveeee VM

What r your personal hcs? :0 /nf

- @/thetinyblossom 🌸

I have a lot! (please keep in mind I have only seen the show so this may not perfectly fit with the actual campagne)

Percy 

Big age range. Regresses between ages 2-9

Starts regressing after the Briarwoods are dead and his revenge is over he since he no longer has revenge to focus on and finally feels safe enough and trusts his friends enough to be little around them  

Struggles to control his facial; expressions when small. Everyone can always tell what little percy is feeling 

He is usually very talkative while little however he struggles to pronounce larger words 

He’s a pretty happy little full of all the curiosity and childlike wonder he had as a kid 

He loves to play adventurers or detectives while little. He enjoys running around the woods with a magnifying glass and studding the bugs. He keeps a “field journal” while little where he catalogs cool things he finds complete with drawings. He also loves to read or if he's feeling particularly young, be read to 

He has a particular book of stories that his parents used to read him when he was little. He found a copy one day while big and purchased it on a whim. If he’s ever feeling bad while little the book is a sure fire way to comfort him 

He prefers to change into more plain and durable clothing when he regresses. He doesn't want to ruin or mess up any of his fancy clothing so he makes sure to have at least once clean set of “play clothes” he can use 

All of vox machina know about his regression. The twins found out first and from there so did everyone else. 

Vox machina typically take turns watching him or babysitting when he’s in a younger headspace. The twins in particular tend to watch over him the most 

Scanlan 

Regresses the youngest of anyone in the group and us never older than 2

He also regresses the least out of any of the team's littles. He really tries to avoid doing it at all costs 

He is very good at noticing the signs that he’s about to slip into headspace and usually either finds a hidden place away from everyone or pushes it down 

He is terrified of being teased about his regression by anyone which makes it a sensitive subject for him. 

Because he regresses so little he has a hard time even walking on his own and prefers to be carried. He won't admit it but he loves being picked up and carried even while big

When little he's very openly emotional. He isn’t able to repress his emotions or play them off with jokes while regressed so they end up coming out at full tilt 

He mostly babbles or goes completely nonverbal while regressed however there are a few words he can pretty reliably say including mommy. The fact that it’s one of the words he can always say when little is the main reason it’s his safeword. Regression absolutely means he needs to be able to get out of any sexual encounters he may have been in the middle of. 

He hums almost constantly as a way of self soothing and just because he really does love music 

This man will happily fall asleep at any time. Because regressing tends to be such an emotional experience for him he gets drained easily 

Does not have a paci but really should. Currently resorts to chewing or sucking on his fingers most of the time 

Vex

Regresses between ages 4-6

Usually regresses voluntarily although she sometimes needs some prompting (usually from Vax) to actually do it when she needs to 

She is incredibly expressive and prone to very big emotions that she doesn’t have much of a handle on. While little Vex feels things at 100% wether that's joy, sadness, anger, or fear 

Her accent becomes stronger while regressed and she gets a bit of a lisp while speaking. She also tends to struggle with her volume control and is either mumbling or borderline shouting

She really loves magic while regressed. Something about the shiny lights and sparkles really entertains her. She also loves spending time with Trinket. She is also very dead set on doing everyones hair while little. It’s not uncommon to see almost the entire party sporting braids, ribbons and flower crowns after vex has gotten ahold of them. She is also a bit of a prankster and especially loves to pull them on Vax and Grog because they have the best reactions (Vax’s are usually fake but Grogs are very real) 

Vax bought her a stuffed bear that she calls mini trinket and Percy regularly gifts her little inventions he’s made for her to fiddle with

When Vax can’t be there with her while shes small he leaves one of his cloaks behind with her so she has something of him to hold onto until he gets back 

Vax has always taken care of her when he can and once the others know vox machina does their best to help her out and watch over her while shes regressed 

Vax 

Regresses between ages 3-8

Regresses less often than he should. He feels the need to always be available to watch over and protect Vex so he doesn’t let himself be small as much as he really needs to 

He finds himself slipping quickly and without warning into headspace especially when his separation anxiety kicks in. He has a few methods of pulling himself out of headspace though so he can usually stay big during emergencies 

He’s a very calm and quiet little. He relaxes and follows others (usually Vex) around like a lost little duckling 

He’s a very sleepy guy while small and if he feels safe and is around the people who care about him he will pass out wherever and become very cranky if he’s woken up 

Loves to play elaborate pretend games and gets annoyed when Vex doesn't want to play along. He’s usually pretty much happy to do whatever Vex is doing. He also loves to climb up big rocks and trees and then jump off or out of them which gives everyone else a heart attack 

He will spill his drinks if they aren't put in a bottle 

When she's not also regressed Vex is his caregiver but he is also taken care of by the rest of vox machina 

Keyleth 

Regresses between ages 2-6

She is a voluntary regressor and does as a way to cope and help her relax and calm her anxiety 

She tends to ramble while small about anything and everything that’s on her mind or go totally silent with no in between. She knows a little bit of sign language that she will occasionally use if she doesn't feel like speaking 

She’s a social napper and will only really take one if others are regressed with her and also being put down for a nap 

She loves making flower crowns and playing outside in the sun. She also really loves animals and if you put a creature in her lap she will sit with it for hours 

She loves fruits and berries and her fingers and mouth are almost always stained with juice 

She has a lot of toys because she keeps buying them while big. She's very good at sharing them with the others 

She does have a paci and will occasionally use one on days she isn’t talking or when she starts biting at her nails 

Grog 

Older kiddo. Regresses between ages 7-12

He has sort of a hard time noticing when he’s feeling little and usually it takes someone else pointing it out to him for him to realize he is small 

What little volume control he has goes out the window 

Very much plays a big brother role to the other littles in the group. He’s very protective of his friends. Pike has caught him attempting to beat up multiple rocks and logs because they “tripped his friends” 

He loves asking pike questions when small and will not be stopped from throwing rocks into water or off of cliffs to see what happens. If he’s not currently by a cliff or body of water he will pick up good throwing rocks to save for later 

Pike

Caregiver all the way 

The only one Scanlan tells about his regression first 

Hates being separated or splitting the party because she wants to be able to keep watch over everyone 

Very good at calming down upset littles 

She is very lenient when it comes to rules and tends not to be too strict 

Very good storyteller 

[bangtanhoneys]

Namjoon & Grace - First Meeting

It’s often said that when BTS came together, it was fate. That the merging of eight talented people had been a once in a lifetime opportunity that would never happen again due to their individual personalities, talents, skills and backgrounds. And while some believed the origins of BTS started with Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok - it was actually the meeting between Namjoon and Grace. 

He had signed with Big Hit Entertainment and Hitman Bang two weeks ago to start life as a trainee. Hitman Bang was putting together a hip-hop group (later an idol group) and Namjoon was the first piece of the puzzle, his rapping skills were superior to what had been picked before and he was nearly fluent in English. He just needed to be molded and formed into what he would later become - RM. 

But first, there was someone who he would have to meet who would become his mentor.

It had been clear from the start that the hip-hop group would be men but his mentor would be a woman, five years older than himself. Grace Chu had entered Big Hit over a year ago as a bit of an enigma - she had training in ballet and ballroom dancing, she could sing, she was fluent in English having been born in the UK, she was somewhat fluent in German and she had the upbringing of a mixed Korean-British household. 

Yet, there were no plans to make her an idol.

She was back up - learning the ropes of singing to do background vocals, rapping, contemporary dancing, how to look like an idol, how to work a crowd but there were no concrete plans. A spare part yet used for everything including paid work as an assistant to various people in the building. Her training had been done by Lee Hyun, who was currently in the military.

Namjoon stopped outside the small room that had been set aside for Grace. It was smack in the middle of the managers and producers, so she could go between the two departments easily. He could hear typing behind the door and every now and then he could hear classical music playing. 

Another piece of the large puzzle that was Grace. 

“Come in,” came a soft voice when Namjoon knocked on the door and he paused, taking a deep breath before opening it. 

He didn’t know what he expected but he’d later admitted he expected her to look more European than Korean. She was only 5’4, later 5’8 in heels, and dark brown, almost black curly hair that had been pulled into a ponytail. Her Korean eyes were dark brown yet small flecks of hazel in them. She was tan but not overly. 

“Kim Namjoon?” she asked, grinning slightly at the tall boy in front of her who was all arms and legs, his face a bit too big for this body.

He bowed politely then remembered she was British so he held out his hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Miss. Chu.”

Perfect English, near enough. If not sounding a bit too American for her liking. 

“Please, call me Grace…unless you prefer to call me noona? I’ll leave that up to you.”

Her accent was a typical British accent, maybe slightly upper class if Namjoon paid close attention to it. There was something else underneath it as well but he couldn’t tell what it was.

“Grace is fine with me,” he paused and stood there awkwardly. She was five years his senior, she had been in the company for over a year and while he expected her to take control of the conversation immediately, she could tell he was nervous and unsure.

“Don’t worry Namjoon, I don’t bite. Hitman Bang told me everything, though Bang PD would be the right thing to call him I suppose. He’s sent you to me for mentoring though I’m going to be honest, I don’t know much about rap or hip-hop. I’m only doing the lessons because I’m going to be doing background vocals for the next big hip-hop group,” she sighed and nodded at the chairs in front of the desk. “Take your weight off your feet Namjoon.”

He slowly sank into one of the chairs. “Did he say what you’re mentoring me in?”

“English is one, though you speak perfect English to me. Maybe a bit of work needs to be done on pronunciation but only a bit. And I’m meant to teach you the way of the idol life,” Grace suddenly grinned. It had occurred to her, as it had Namjoon, that she would be his idol mentor while not being slated to be an idol herself. 

“You’re not going to be put forward as a solo artist?” he found himself asking, seeing the pictures of the artists and bands that had gone before on the wall behind Grace’s desk.

“My contract is purely work - I’m going to be a trainee but one who is going to help other artists, like yourself. Bang PD wants to focus on the new hip-hop group, BPB, which won’t be co-ed. I’ll help with background vocals, meetings, some lyrics but not many.”

Namjoon sighed and looked down at his hands, fiddling with a ring that was on his index finger. “Well, thank you Grace then. For all the future help you’ll give me.”

God he was cute. 

Sixteen years old and already sounding like a leader. 

“You are more than welcome Namjoon. So, let’s work out a schedule. It’s going to be one to one with you and me for a while until others are signed - I believe there’s more auditions coming. Why don’t you work out a list of things you want to learn and I’ll schedule lessons around your training and school,” Grace said as she got out her diary. 

He was silent for a moment and she wondered if she had said the wrong thing when he spoke, shyly for the first time since entering the room. 

“Can I call you Gigi?”

Of all the nicknames she had been given in her life, Gigi was not one of them. It was certainly unique and not what she was expecting - it was a bit hard to create a nickname out of Grace or even her Korean name, Hea. 

“Only if I can call Joon.”

From that moment on, a solid relationship between mentor and student was formed. Within a month to a year, it would change to leader and artist, not before it was brother and sister. Grace would become Namjoon’s back, his silent supporter, his go-to for when being a leader got too much or when he couldn’t translate. Namjoon in return would become Grace’s solo supporter, championing the use of her lyrics and notes, spearheading her career as Grace Chu, not as BTS. 

Their family would form when six others would join that small little office and make their introductions to their leader and their noona. 

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 08/01/2024

You Are Book Smart

Season 7 Featured on: Rips of Christmas Present

Ripped by circunflexo

Tentative rip name: You Are Book Smart

I'd like to wish a late happy Jay Eazy day to all who celebrate, I hope you spent your time together with your dogs like Mega Man fr fr

Okay, but, like, sincerely, I like many others have over the last year been completely enamored with all the edits and attention given to Jay Eazy, and the frankly hilarious promotions he does for his music. The guy's a rapper in a sea of others but is frankly a marketing genius - he attaches popular games and anime to his songs, such as Grand Theft Auto, Demon Slayer, or indeed Mega Man, and promotes them through TikToks that are so absurdly strange that your only logical reaction is to laugh. In 2023, he struck absolute gold, and Mega Man went absolutely viral - after, of course, it dropped on January 7th.

There's just something so inherently funny about Jay Eazy that's...hard to describe, especially if you haven't been down the rabbithole of edits people have done of the Mega Man promo video. Be it the setup of Jay Eazy dropping in on someone else's grief to promote his music whilst running away from them, The Very Perculiar Way That His Captions And Tweets Are Written‼️, or just the corny sound to the songs themselves - Jay Eazy is immensely fun to post about, and post about him SiIva did, just one day ago. January 7th, 2024, was dedicated entirely to the king of money smarts himself - and of all rips posted, You Are Book Smart became my favorite just about immediately.

The thing is, we've had a lot of rips, and even some events, kind of similar to Jay Eazy Day already. Rap mashup rips, from Yoshi's Cookie World to Loopdeloop Griddy, aren't exactly a rare sight on SiIvaGunner, and just earlier in Season 7 we received a sequel to Whip & Nae Nae Day, with amazing rips like Whip Fortress (coincidentally ALSO by circunflexo!). There's of course uniqueness to all of these rips due to the sheer personality and expressiveness inherent to rap as a music genre, but it does still mean that the rips that try to truly stand out from the crowd are the ones that end up sticking with me the most. And compared to a lot of the other hip hop rips on SiIva, the big benefit that Jay Eazy has enjoyed for me is that he's had a whole year to simmer in my mind - I know the bars to Mega Man completely off the top of my head through no choice of my own, at this point.

All that is to say, that Circunflexo's call to make a rip that specifically plays with the lyrics and flow of Mega Man, sentence mixing it into new bars entirely - is absolutely damn brilliant. You Are Book Smart, through the edits in the lyrics and the sheer whimsy in the original song's beat, transforms a song originally about bragging over riches and dames, into Jay Eazy proudly boasting about his intelligence in perhaps the funniest ways you'll have ever heard. The kind of monotone quality that Jay Eazy's vocals have lend themselves to absolutely fantastic, near seamless sentence mixing, and the jokes just write themselves from there.

"I'm book smart, I'm money smart - I'm more intelligent, Call me Mr. Smart Festival, I got hella books"

It has no right to work as well as it does - and yet, Jay Eazy, the king himself, pulls through. Even if I wasn't blown away by every rip of the event, it was absolutely fun the entire way through, and you can really tell the SiIvaGunner team loves Jay Eazy as much as the rest of us: the cherry on top being the edited opening, that persists in almost all rips of the event. Jay Eazy's typical introduction of spelling out "S-R-G", was across the entire event edited across all rips to say "S-G" - SiIvaGunner. Even for a meme this silly and dumb, the amount of effort put in was, frankly, admirable. What a start to 2024: and Season 8 is just around the corner!!

[aussie-bookworm]

do you need to get *in the zone* to write? if so, how dya do it? any tips on just getting up off your ass and writing?

Oh yeah I definitely need to get in the zone to write. Some days are easier than others lol

As for tips… keep in mind these are my personal tips and it’s not one size fits all – you gotta figure out what works out for you personally

1. Have a good idea about what you’re writing

It might seem a bit obvious but having a good idea of what you want to write does help a bunch. I’m more excited to write if I know what scenes I’m working on and how they relate to the story.

Think about what scenes you want to include while you’re not writing, that way you have something to look forward to when you’re actually sitting in front of your word doc.

Scenes that I’ve been thinking about a lot just fly by because I’m excited to finally get the words out onto the page and I have a good understanding of how things might play out.

2. Set the vibe

Exactly what it says on the tin. Identify what helps you stay in the zone and ready to write and use it to your advantage.

Does listening to music help? Turn it up. Does a specific environment help you pay attention? Go there and if you can’t, try to replicate it. Is your font difficult to read or just plain boring? Change it Comic Sans!

(That last one is a joke but I’m not gonna stop you if you wanna change your default typeface to Comic Sans lmao)

Work on your own environment and make it as writer friendly as possible. But also never underestimate the power of changing things up once in a while.

For example: I typically write in my room where I know no one will distract me. I do short spurts of writing when I get home from work and do longer sessions on weekends. I put on a random playlist and shuffle it, but occasionally I change it up and play video game OSTs.

I tend to change the colour of my pages in Google Docs to be pastel colours so I can still see my words but feel less intimidated by the white of an empty page. I avoid snacking on chips while I write because I dislike grease and flavouring getting on my keyboard.

On the rare occasion when I’m on a weekend trip, I bring my laptop along so I can still do some writing during quiet moments before bed.

This is just what works for me. I’m well aware some of these environmental factors are very niche but you gotta experiment to see what works for you!

Speaking of your environment…

3. Minimise distractions but know when you need to take a break

As much as I would love to, you can’t write while scrolling through Tumblr lol. It’s a classic piece of advice but for a good reason. Focus on the page in front of you and put your phone far away from you if you have to.

But also recognise when you’ve had enough of writing. I’ve found that sometimes during a long writing session, I start to skip words or my descriptions start to not make any sense or something else. It’s a pretty good sign that you need to take a quick break and give your brain a refresh.

Go outside, put on a short YouTube video, do some chores, scroll tumblr, just do something short and sweet that will allow your brain a little break so you can get back to writing once you’re done.

If you are really struggling with staying focused and in the zone, I would recommend trying a writing sprint.

I only found out about these this year but they have been massively helpful in getting me to stay focused.

Set a timer for however long you want (I usually go for 10 minutes) and write non-stop until that timer goes off. You don’t even need to worry about grammar and spelling. Just get the words out and you can edit them later.

It helps identify when it’s break time and sometimes you’ll find that you’ll want to keep on writing after the timer has gone off.

Sprints also help out with the next tip…

4. Just get the dang words out on the page

I will be completely honest, it took me a really long time to understand this piece of advice because it felt obvious. Turns out I was wrong! So let me explain!

Your first draft is your worst version of your writing. No one else will see it so give yourself full permission to fuck up.

Write as many ‘he said, she sighed, they did x’ as you want! Write meta jokes for yourself when you can’t remember how much has passed in-universe! Write parts that you’re still on the fence about including! Write bad jokes you’re not sure will land! Write whatever you want!

Then, once you’ve finished writing and you’re onto proofreading, go through your work multiple times and note what you need to change.

Have you used the same word multiple times in this one sentence? Use another one. Do you like this theme that seems to have developed during the writing phase? Go back and include it more. Is this character repeating an action too many times? Find something else they can do that matches the mood.

Your first draft is supposed to be messy and incomplete. The proofreading stage is where you act as your own worse critic and fix any issues you see.

And if there’s still an issue you’re having trouble with while you proofread? Highlight it and come back later. It’s not going anywhere.

By actually focusing on your writing and getting words on the page, you are more likely to stay in the zone and keep writing! You just need to take that first step and start writing.

Hope that helps anon! At the end of the day, writing should be fun, so try to enjoy every step of the writing process, however you can ❤️