#Tw: gaslighting

[candiid-caniine]

my favorite thing about denial is the opportunities for mindfuckery. gaslighting and emotional manipulation, in particular.

"if you want to cum so bad, why do you get so wet when you're denied?"

"you came just now. yes you did. are you such an edged-out slut that you don't remember what it feels like? i know you came, and i didn't give you permission, so now you're in big trouble."

"but your hole feels so much better when it's denied. don't you want to make me feel good?"

"if you could just stop touching yourself so much, maybe you'd be able to prove you deserve to cum."

"every time i tell you 'no,' you get wetter. i don't care if you don't believe me, i can feel it."

"your orgasms are so special for me, and i don't want them to lose their specialness. don't you want to save them for special occasions? if you just cum all the time, i'll get so bored of it..."

"if you won't give them up for me, you don't really respect me."

"only sluts cum every day. do you want to be a slut? because i have no problems treating you like one."

"when you stop being so pathetic, maybe i'll let you cum."

fuck. when they say shit like this to me,,

[radio-writes]

What is Left of Me Without You?

Synopsis: Your husband didn't love you, not yet at least—that's what he told you. First, he wanted to see just how much you loved him.

Warnings: dubcon, smut, oral - m receiving, sex, abusive relationship, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, some misogyny, angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader, reader is somewhere on the ace spectrum too

MDNI

To everyone in your town, you and your husband were the picture perfect couple.

Alastor, the bright, charming, down-right intoxicating radio host, walking down the street with you, his absolute darling of a wife on his arm.

Smiling, giggling, sharing hushed whispers. It looked as if the two of you were lost in your own lovely little world.

Even behind closed doors, Alastor proved himself to be the perfect gentleman. You never wanted for anything, never grieved, never felt lonely. 

If you so much as glanced at something by a storefront, Alastor would have it tied with a bow at the foot of your bed.

If anything caused you grief, or even inconvenienced you the slightest bit, Alastor would have dealt with it by the end of the day. 

If you ever felt lonely, well...

You supposed you didn't really have the right to feel lonely. Alastor was always there, wasn't he?

You woke up to the sound of your husband's humming. His smooth voice glided over each note skillfully as you peeled your eyes open.

The sight before you wasn't anything new: the other half of the bed empty and already fixed up. 

You turned to sit up, and found Alastor in front of your vanity as he straightened his bowtie. He caught your eye through the reflection, and his smile broadened.

The greater half of New Orleans would probably kill to be in your place right now. Seated in a lavish bedroom, your famous, dapper husband walking to your side of the bed to place a kiss on your hand. 

"Well good morning, darling! Don't you look adorable in this state." His sweet words greeted you.

It was there again, that odd feeling that sunk in your gut. What was that?

"Good morning, my dear." You greeted him back, ignoring whatever it was. A tired smile graced your lips as you peered up at him. "Headed to work already?" You asked him. 

"Why, of course! Who else would wake up New Orleans and tell all those sleepy bones to shake a leg and hop to work?" He struck a pose, hand on his chest. "Only yours truly, of course!" 

His warm chestnut eyes met yours through the lenses of his glasses. You let out a tired, soft laugh as you glanced away to hide the heat that rose to your cheeks.

You adored this man—every single bit of him—so you found it hard not to get flustered over him, even after all this time. Hell, you were still counting your lucky stars that he chose to marry you of all people.

Why? Well, you tried not to ask yourself that.

He'd already given you his answer, hadn't he?

Alastor placed a chaste kiss to your cheek, quickly pulling you out of your thoughts before they could spiral. You looked back at your husband as he said something about having to run off or risk being late.

You remained sat in your bed, smiling and watching with hearts in your eyes as your darling husband waved on his way out of your room. 

"Looking forward to what you'll cook up this evening, sweetheart!" Alastor grinned, right before the door shut behind him.

And it was there again.

The gnawing feeling was coming by more and more frequently now. What was it?

Was it actually loneliness? But that would be so silly, wouldn't it?

Your husband didn't love you, but he trusted you. And that should be enough for now.

At least, that's what he said when he proposed.

You and Alastor knew each other for a very long time, and basically all of New Orleans knew you took a very strong liking to him.

Alastor had raised the proposition back then. You remember how he had explained that it would be a good thing for both your sakes. How you'd get to be with someone you loved oh so much, and how convenient it would be for him to finally get marriage out of the way. And even more so with a cherished friend like you!

Sure, you hesitated back then; unsure if you really wanted to marry a man who didn't love you the way you did him. But he sung you praises, he sung you promises.

You were darling, you were beautiful, you were smart, you were kind. How could he not grow to love you in your marriage? How could he resist falling for a such a doll who was offering him her heart?

So you said yes. 

Because you loved Alastor with every bit of your heart, but he simply just wasn't ready to love you back yet.

And he was such a lovely man who never failed to shower you with affection. Maybe you were just asking for too much—fretting over such small things—for you to feel upset about waking up without your husband beside you. 

And—and he was a radio host, after all. Of course he had to get to work early.

You really didn't need to spare it another second of thought.

No, what you really needed to focus on was how you could help your dear, hardworking husband.

You shook your head and slapped your hands softly against your cheeks. You've got to knock that annoying feeling loose. It was all so pointless.

With a more determined look, you got up from the bed. You neatly fixed the sheets and pillows, taking extra care to make sure every single wrinkle was smoothened out.

You silently ran over the list of tasks you had to do today.

Obviously there's cleaning and making sure the house was in order. It would be a real shame if Alastor came home to an untidy space. He's already out working late for both of you, the least you could do was make sure he had a clean home to rest in.

You ought to make time to drop by the market for some fresh meat to cook up. Alastor would surely be famished after work, right? And your mama always did say that the quickest way to a man's heart was through his stomach. 

You could also drop by the tailors and get the hem of one of your Alastor's dress shirts straightened out. He hasn't said anything about it, but he's avoided using that particular one for a while now. You knew the uneven stitches had to be bugging him.

Oh, you really needed to pass by a locksmith, too. That dang lock on the basement door still had not budged no matter what Alastor did, and you just could not find the key anywhere.

You've been waving the issue off for a while now—Alastor was right in saying there's no real rush to it, nothing really important down there, anyway—but it'd be nice to have the extra storage available to you again.

You let out a huffed breath and placed your hands on your waist. You held your head high and ready. "Right. Let's get this show started."

It was a busy day, as it always was for you. The hours ticked by as quickly as loose sand through an open palm.

You didn't have time to feel lonely, not when you were too busy scrubbing with all your might against a particularly stubborn grease stain on your sink. 

When the house was finally all neat, you got yourself ready to head out. Hair done, just a touch of make up, and a rather modest dress—at least as modest as Alastor had bought you. That man did lean towards the more finer tastes.

You felt it was a bit much just to do a few errands, but you were the sweet wife of a local personality. You had an image to uphold. You had to make sure you didn't do anything to tarnish your darling husband's reputation. 

This was just part of the whole package, you supposed. Nothing that can be done about it.

Heading out into the afternoon sun, you painted on a bright smile for all the kind people that greeted you. Cheery, happy, friendly. Oh, but not too friendly.

Meek, quiet, all prim and proper. The makings of a fine lady worthy of her spot by the dapper radio host's side.

You dropped your husband's shirt off by the tailors first. They seemed to be more than happy to rush your request once you let slip who it belonged to. They promised they could have it ready in just a few hours. You thanked them softly, and noted how they were such jolly workers, laughing even as you left the store.

You dropped by the locksmith before the market, not really wanting to carry out a bunch of raw meat as you went about your day.

The nicely dressed man was a bit—difficult to talk to. He seemed to think you had no idea what a door even was. He had just started explaining how you open a doorknob when you felt your cheeks start to strain from how hard you worked to maintain a smile.

"Oh dear me, would you look at the time," You politely cut him off, pretending to be shocked at how late into the day it was. "I am so sorry, sir, but my husband should be coming home any minute now and I haven't even started on dinner!" 

A lie. Alastor always came home late.

The man raised a brow at you in disbelief. Not that he didn't buy your act, but more judgmental that a woman would be so careless as to forget to take care of her spouse.

You ignore the look he gave you, keeping your shy smile on. "Maybe you could just sell me the tools. I could get my husband to work on it."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," The man shrugged. "I'll get what you need in a split, so you can run back and make a quick stew at the very least."

He ended up selling you the tools, along with a bunch of other needless things, with the assurance that your husband would definitely need them all.

You bit your tongue as you smiled and thanked him.

Why on earth would you need a box of nails and a bottle of glue to split a lock open?

But you really did not have it in you to stand in that shop any longer.

Besides, how would it look if the papers caught whiff of Alastor's sweet little wife yelling and lecturing a local shop keeper.

You couldn't burden your husband like that.

You hurriedly rushed to the market before they could close, buying the best cut of meat they still had at this hour, before you made your way back to the tailors to check on the progress.

The workers snickered as you entered, but you really didn't think much of it until they pulled out the dress shirt you dropped off.

A large, nasty stain of lord-knows-what sat right at the center of what used to be its pristine white color.

Your smile strained badly. "Oh dear, what on earth happened?" You asked with feigned worry. You already knew what happened.

"Afraid we spilled a bit of lunch on it, sweetie." One of the ladies explained, her companions giggling behind her. "Couldn't be avoided, unfortunately."

You felt your eye twitch.

"I'm sure a lovely doll like you could find a way to fix it. Wouldn't want that hotty husband of yours to leave your pretty face for something like this, would ya?" She went on.

"You better run, though. I heard the cleaners were planning on closing up early today." Another bitch woman spoke up.

Had you been any less horrified at your husband's ruined shirt, you would have been fuming.

You quickly took the shirt and paid, rushing out before you did anything stupid. Like cry.

Oh Alastor's rivals would have a field day twisting a story like that.

As you left the ladies called out "We did straighten the hem, darling!" And a more snarky, muttered comment, "Although, you'd think someone as handsome as Alastor could find a gal that could do something that simple herself."

The walk back home was probably the most tiring part of it all. Having to keep your back straight, your smile lovely, your voice friendly. Never letting the kind people know anything was wrong.

Because you knew those kind people were all itching to have any reason to gossip about your husband.

And you just couldn't have that.

Your shoulders finally sagged as you closed the door to your house. Your smile dropped immediately as you leaned against the door in exhaustion.

You stuffed the ruined shirt in your bag, thinking maybe your can throw it out later on, but you just knew Alastor would notice it was missing. He won't be happy with you, that's for sure.

Never mind that you've bent over backwards for the better half of a year to cater to him. Never mind that you've hidden all your faults under the rug. Never mind that you've been absolutely devoted to him even before your marriage.

You had to be perfect.

But you weren't. And you knew that. It seemed every other woman in New Orleans knew that. And now with the ruined shirt, Alastor would know that too.

He'll see you as less.

It's there again, that's stupid heavy feeling in your gut. Whatever it was.

You sighed in defeat. If you couldn't get the shirt fixed, maybe you could at least make sure he had a good meal to come home to? Maybe that could make him overlook your faults this time.

You burnt it. Somehow,—despite normally being an amazing cook every other time besides tonight—you managed to burn dinner.

You put your hands over your face, groaning in frustration, just absolutely exasperated. Why on earth was everything going wrong today. Why couldn't you just do one thing right? Why couldn't you just be of some help to Alastor? Why—

You lifted your face from your hands, attempting to slow your breathing. Your eyes glanced around your ruined kitchen and your burnt dinner, and that stupid shirt peaking out of your bag, and...the door to the basement? 

Right! Maybe there could still be one thing you could do right today.

You wiped your hands over your apron, immediately scrambling for the tools you bought earlier today. 

While you weren't the smartest when it came to these things, surely you could figure something out to try to loosen the lock.

You've watched your gentle husband fiddle around with the lock many times before, never opting to break the thing. You suspected he didn't want to look in any way violent in front of you, but you always thought it was so needlessly complicated.

You grabbed a hammer from the pile of junk and made your way towards the basement door. You tested the lock's strength with a few, rather light, taps of the hammer head. It didn't feel that sturdy. You thought you could definitely break it with a bit of force on your end.

You gripped the handle with both hands and brought the hammer down on it.

Once. The sound of metals clashing echoed in your house

Twice. You had to do at least this today.

Thrice. You can't be useless to him.

You smashed the hammer down onto the lock one more time and the battered thing fell to floor. 

Your eyes widened, lips spreading into grin out of relief.

Thank heavens, you managed something today. Alastor would be glad to hear this, at least. 

You bent over, picking up the fallen lock from the floor.

A weight pressed against you from behind.

Startled out of your wit, you stood up straight, just in time for whoever it was to flatten your body right against the basement door.

"What a lovely sight that was." You hear Alastor's voice right by your ear.

His head found home where your shoulder and head met. His nose trailed up against your skin as he breathed you in.

A gasp escaped your parted lips as you feel his hands squeeze the flesh of your hips harshly.

"Alastor?" You were partly dazed, confused what was happening.

His hips pressed against yours at the sound of his name from your mouth, and you all but recoil.

Alastor was rarely handsy, and that was fine by you. You actually realized that you much preferred it that way. Alastor's love being the only thing you ever really wanted from him.

Moments like these have always caught you off guard.

Because your husband knew that. He knew you weren't comfortable with being intimate. He knew you'd much rather have him just sit by you. He knew you weren't one to jump his bones.

And Alastor normally respected that.

"What a naughty little doll you are," Alastor's breath hot against your skin. "Welcoming a man home all bent over, presenting yourself." He whispered.

Your eyes widened, attempting to turn to face him, but his body kept yours pinned to the door.

"Baby, no. I," Your breathing had gone a bit ragged. "I was just picking up this lock here."

You raised your hand, showing the broken, battered lock in your grip. "I finally managed to open the stubborn thing." You tried to smile up at him over your shoulder, expecting praise.

Alastor's eyes stayed on the lock for a second too long you think, before his hand circled your wrist and yanked your arm behind your back. His swift hands made your other arm follow after it immediately.

The ache in your limbs, the grip he had on you, the shock of it all made the lock tumble right out of your grasp.

Alastor let out a hum of disappointment. "That's a real shame, sweetheart. I thought you were finally opening up to me." He said, his voice still filled with mirth. "Could have really used it tonight, too."

You felt him ground his hips against your clothed ass. His half hard cock evident against you.

He used one hand to keep your arms where they were, the other made its way to caress up your torso. His large palm trailing past your breasts, ending up by your soft cheeks.

Contrasting with the ones that held you still, his fingers were gentle against your face. His fingertips barely ghosted over your skin.

"I had a rather rough day at work, you see. Could you blame a man for wanting a little comfort from his wife?" He whispered.

The words hung in the air. Your lips unable to deny him, but unable to agree all the same.

A heartbeat passes, and suddenly you were free. Alastor stepped back from you, your body relaxing at the absence of his towering figure. 

"But what kind of ruffian would I be to force a lady to do that against her will," Alastor said, his tone rather carefree.

You turned around to finally face him, only to see him looking else where.

Your eyes followed his line of sight and you noticed the ruined shirt, pulled out of the bag, sitting right next to a burnt dinner, all framed by a horribly messy kitchen.

Alastor looked back at you, his charming smile ever present. "I'm sure you excel at all the other aspects of being a wife, anyway." He says, as if he hadn't just seen the failure you've made of your day.

He began to walk away, and your hand reached out before you could even think. Almost as if on reflex. Almost as if it's what you had to do.

You meekly pulled him back. His eyes watched you, almost expectantly, as you cupped your palms against his cheeks, and invited him down to meet you.

Your lips brushed chastely against his as he let out a satisfied hum.

You pulled away just enough to speak, your eyes looking up at him as your breaths mixed. "What...what can I do for you, my love?"

Alastor's smile stretched, his lips dipping down to meet yours again for a second time. His hand quickly found its way to the small of your back, heavy as he ushered you out of the kitchen.

"I think that's better discussed in the bedroom, darling." He purred against your ear.

You swallowed thickly against your tightening throat. 

Normally Alastor's hands on you were cherished, but you wanted nothing more than to squirm away from his hold right then. You knew where this was heading, but it just was not something you ever found appealing.

But you could do it for Alastor, right? You have done it for him before, anyway. 

Even if you didn't particularly enjoy it, at least you'd be satisfying your husband. At least you'd be close to him. At least you'd be useful to him.

Alastor, like the chivalrous gentleman he is, opened the door of your bedroom for you as he lead you in. You heard the click of the lock behind you, right before you were quickly tossed onto your bed.

You squealed as your felt your body bounce against the soft sheets. Your dress bunched up your thighs as you adjusted your legs.

Alastor stood at the foot of your bed, working his bowtie off with nimble fingers. "Darling, why so tense? It's only me." He says, his voice almost soothing.

But it was there again. That annoying feeling. It seems heavier than ever.

Was it really loneliness? 

How could you even be lonely now, when the man you love was waiting to mount you.

"I'm just nervous, that's all, darling," You managed to say honestly. "It hurt quite a bit last time."

Your eyes watched closely as Alastor's hand made quick work of the buttons in his vest, shrugging it off and placing his knee on the bed. His eyes trained on your reactions all the while, enjoying the flicker of uncertainty on your face as you bit your lip.

"I know a way we can ease that," He said. He reached out his hand to you, inviting you to take it.

Your shaky hand didn't hesitate. Because you'd do anything for this man.

You loved Alastor, so much, with your whole body, but he seemed to revel a bit too much in that knowledge.

He knew you could never deny him. So when your hand was in his, he pulled you closer, watching with delight as you awkwardly crawled to the end of your bed.

"Care for a box lunch, darling? It'd hurt less if we're a lot more slick." Alastor teased, chuckling as you looked at him with confusion.

The gears seemed to click in your head when one of his hand rested on your hair, the other worked his belt off.

"Oh," Was pretty much all you managed to squeak out. It was definitely not what you expected. 

You hadn't noticed that you tried to pull away until Alastor applied a bit more pressure on your scalp to keep you still. 

He pulled his heavy cock free from its confines. He ran his hand over it, lazily pumping the hardening member in his palm as his gaze was transfixed on you.

Your wide eyes watched every movement of his hand. Panicked, you seemed. Not unlike many panicked does he's shot down in the past.

Not unlike many panicked other things he's felt lose life under his hands.

"Something wrong?" Alastor mused, head tilting as he watched you flinch at the sight of his dick twitching.

Your eyes finally pulled away from your husband's groin, looking up to meet the man's lidded gaze behind his glasses. "We haven't really tried that before and," You bit your lip, unsure on how to proceed. "It just seems a bit deviant." 

"Well then it's lucky we're both in such safe company then, isn't it?" The hand in your hair loosened it's grip, opting to softly comb through your hair. The slight tension in your shoulders melted away. "I've been rather curious about what all fuss was about, didn't really have a partner I trusted enough before to try, though." 

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. He saw how bad you messed up today, didn't he? He saw how miserably you failed at the simplest of tasks. But he still trusted you? He still trusted you enough to do something as unorthodox as this?

"I suppose I've been rather curious about it myself." You smiled up at him nervously, your hand reached out by your own choice to hold his hefty cock in your palm.

You were lying.

He knew you were lying and he loved it.

"Then open up, my dear." You heard him say, gently guiding your head closer to his crotch.

You decided looking up at your husband was easier than watching your own hand pleasure his shaft. You kept his gaze as you parted your lips, letting your soft tongue meet the skin of his head before wrapping your lips around it.

There was a rather salty taste in your mouth, a bit of his precum leaking onto your tongue. You tried not to cringe at the taste, choosing instead to focus on the way Alastor's brows furrowed when you took more of him into your warm, obedient mouth.

"How do I taste, darling?" He teased, knowing you couldn't answer. 

He looked down at you expectantly. Not knowing what else you could do, you began to slowly bob your head, keeping your lips wrapped around his shaft.

You took your time, slowly letting more of him past your lips each time you sank your head back down. Eyes trained on your husband's face, part of you wondering if he'd praise you if you did a well enough job. But it seemed your efforts offered far too little friction for Alastor's patience.

His hips started moving against your face. Softly at first, but he soon began to push at your head to meet his thrusts.

The head of his hard cock nudged your throat and you choked. Your hands immediately went to his hips, nails digging in with how hard you held onto him. 

Tears forms in your eyes as you looked up at your husband, and your heart immediately filled with panic when you were met with a look of disappointment. 

"Hmm. Seems this might have been too much for you to handle." He sighed, finally pulling you off his dick.

A string of saliva stayed between the head of his cock and your lips as you coughed and gasped for air. 

But even as your jaw throbbed, you went to reach your hand out and tried to lean back in towards his dick. "No, no. I can do it, I promise," You said hurriedly.

"There's no need to force yourself, my darling wife," Alastor tutted, pushing you back by your shoulder, stopping you from getting another chance to prove yourself. "We can't help that you have your limits."

"I just need practice." You swore, looking up at your husband. You hated that you disappointed him again.

His fingers reach out to tilt your chin up, making space for his lips at your neck as he slowly pushed you back into the bed with his own body.

"If you ask nicely enough, I'm sure we can have you try again another time," Alastor said softly, as if granting you such a troublesome request.

The back of your head softly met your pillows as Alastor nudged your legs apart with his knee.

He slotted himself between your legs, grinding his slick cock impatiently against your panties. His groan was practically breathed into your ear.

You wanted to hear more of it. While you weren't particularly eager for sex, you were starved for your husband's praises. And if this is what it took then so be it.

You bucked your hips up to remove your underwear, your groin meeting his lazy thrusts as you did. 

"And here I was beginning to think you didn't want me." Alastor jested as he parted from your neck to help you rid yourself of your underwear. His long fingers slid the flimsy thing down one leg and let it stay on the other.

"There probably isn't a woman in this apple that doesn't want you, my love." You half-joked, but your soft laugh abruptly ended in a gasp.

Alastor pressed the thick head of his cock at your entrance, teasingly pushing in just the smallest bit. "You're most likely right," He said, watching as your eyes closed at his trespass. "But you are the only one lucky enough to have me."

And you should know it.

Your back arched as your husband pushed past the tight hole of your entrance. What little resistance your walls made barely bothered him as his throbbing head forced your walls apart.

His hands dug into the sheets by your body. The smooth covers wrinkling in his grip as he strained to stay still.

"This alright for you, darling?" He asked, running his thumb softly under your eye to coax you into looking at him.

Your heart fluttered. Even when in such carnal need he cared about your silly little wants. You pry your eyes open to see Alastor peering down at you with a smile.

"I could stay with this much if you need me to." He told you, rocking hips barely moving. The head of his cock nearly slipping out before he pushed back in, just until it disappeared again into your warm walls.

He was being so kind and accommodating, you couldn't bring yourself to be so needlessly selfish.

Your cunt strained to take even just his very tip, but it was so pointless to let something like that get in the way. Your petty little apprehensions shouldn't matter. Not when you're with your husband.

Your lips strained to force a smile. "I think I can take more, my dear."

It was all Alastor really needed to hear. he dragged his dick out of you, letting it slip out. Wanting you to feel how empty you were without him. Before he rammed his hips against yours; sheathing his cock fully in your warm cunt.

"What a gal," Alastor praised. "Loving, kind, and gentle, but takes a cock like she's on the clock in a call house."

Alastor loved the way you keened at his words.

He loved the way you yearned for his touch, even when you both knew it wasn't your game.

He loved the way you worshiped him, always so desperate to please him.

Oh, how he loved how you were always so ready to give him everything. 

Alastor loved you, but just not in the way you hoped.

When you woke up the next morning, the view in front of you wasn't anything new.

Alastor's half of the bed was empty. The previously rumpled sheets for the previous night's rendezvous were pristine and smoothened out once more.

It was there again. Whatever that feeling was. 

You assumed it's going to be here for a while.

Alastor seemed to have already headed out before you awoke, not that it felt any different from other mornings.

With a sigh you made your bed. Once again going over everything you had to do for the day.

You had to clean—because you always had to clean—but more so now knowing you left quite the mess yesterday. You have to stop by the market once more, maybe look through clothing stores to find a new shirt for Alastor.

You didn't want him upset with you over that after all. While he didn't bring it up, you knew it still likely bothered him.

You made your way to the kitchen, ready to get the day started.

Except something glimmered as you walked by it. Your head turned to its direction, seeing the same padlock you broke the night before in perfect condition—back on the door to the basement.

Your brows furrowed as you approached it. Fingers gingerly examining the cold metal.

But, how could it be back on here? You swore you broke this stubborn thing last night.

From the corner of your eye, you see a note on the counter, immediately recognizing Alastor's messy handwriting. 

Yes, of course. He must have replaced the old one and fixed whatever damaged you did on the door while you were asleep. That would easily explain it.

You picked up the note, smiling softly to yourself at how silly it was to be confused.

It was a brilliant bash, my darling, but it seems this lock is just much too sturdy :(

Don't fret! I'll find a way to open it eventually! Do try to stay away from the tools though, dear. We wouldn't want you hurting your soft delicate hands!

Yours, Alastor

P.S.

I'd prefer a little less char on the meat this time! Haha!

You tried to reread the note several times, wondering if your husband was pulling your leg again. 

You broke this lock, you knew you did.

You swung a hammer at it thrice and it broke. 

Thrice? Or was it four times?

Whatever, the count didn't matter.

Or did it? 

You remained where you stood, confused at what to believe. The note still clutched in your hands.

Did you really break the lock last night? Or were you just so desperate to get something right that your fooled yourself into thinking that?

If you broke the lock then why was it still there now? Why would your darling husband tell you otherwise?

The only reasonable conclusion was that you didn't.

Surely, that made sense, right?

Your eyes stared at the note. Alastor's name seemingly bright against everything else. 

No other possibility made sense. Besides, if Alastor trusted you enough to marry you, it only made sense to return that privilege.

Right.

Your eyes lifted from the note, to the kitchen in front of you. The mess you made still loud and present and ugly. 

There was no use standing there fretting over such a silly, pointless, thing. Not when you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Who really cares about a dumb little lock, anyway? Didn't you have such a long list of tasks to do today?

Like proving your worth

To yourself

To the world

To your husband. 

Part 1 of 2 I hadn't intended for this fic to run as long as it did, and the best part was yet to come. It would have taken ages to get this out if I didn't cut it into half. Anyway, Read part 2 of 2 here!

[doki-doki-imagines]

It's Okay if you can handle yandere things, can you do the lin kuei trio, syzoth and raiden if they were a yander, i wanna know what's on your mind :D

tw: yandere, toxic relationships (obvs), gaslight, baby trapping, abuse (physically and mentally), death (not reader or characters), if I forgot a trigger tell me so I can add it🫡.

Raiden: -King of gaslight. -"Don't you remember I told you I was going to train? Why do you always trust her, she keeps tricking you! Don't you remember that one time?" -He didn't go out to train, no friends have ever tricked you. -It's impossible for your humble and kind boyfriend to lie to you. He only wants what is best for you. -That's why on your own accord (it's what Raiden keeps telling you) you have no friends, and don't go out. Your boyfriend already gives everything you need and want. -So when you cry alone in a corner of your room, it's just because you are the stupid one because anybody would be happy with what you have (or at least, that's what Raiden tells you).

Syzoth: -What more do you want? You already bear his children. That should be the apex of your life. -That's his strategy, always having kids, so you won't be able to go out. Syzoth taking care of food and every other basic care. -Your life will be forever centred on him and your kids, nothing else, no other important value, not even yourself. -"Act well, if you lose me, you lose yourself." -You can only nod like the mindless pawn you became.

Kuai Liang: -He is always angry, more often than not taking his anger on your body. -"Sorry fireball, I'll never do it again, I swear, stay with me. Forever." -It's never the last time he hurts you, but you believe him every time, cheeks hurting, throat purple, tears never stop flowing from your eyes. -Liang will try to keep you locked in his mansion as much as possible. No Shirai Ryu trainees should be able to see you, and you mustn't even look at other men other than him. -Or women. -The time you talked with Harumi, you couldn't even open your eyes the next day, face beaten up, and you had to take care of the wounds alone. -But every time, Liang promises that he loves you and you can't do anything other than believing him.

Tomas Vrbada: -He is the classical yandere, lovebombing you, saying that he can't live without you. -Killing every person that gets close to you; they should learn to stay in their space, those cockroaches. -Tomas can just think of you, and he'll make sure you will return the obsession. Not physically obliging you, but by eliminating every distraction that you have. -May the distractions be your friends, your parents, your pets… they all have the same value to him. -Zero.

Bi-Han: -Sadly, I think that even normal Bi-Han has toxic tendencies, mostly because he doesn't know how a normal relationship works. -You mustn't interact with other men. You mustn't have hobbies. -Your entire life should be dedicated to Bi-Han and Bi-Han only. -You won't even have the whole mansion for yourself. He'll imprison you in a small room, and he only has access to it. -Bi-Han will personally deliver anything you need, no contact with any other human being is allowed. -The cell doesn't have any window, so you can't even understand for how long you've been there. -Don't try to think too much, or you'll become crazy, just accept your fate.

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Autumn Roundup 2024

Some fics with fall vibes to warm your soul. -AFTG Fic Rec Fam

previous recs:

staff fave Halloween here (includes previous Halloween recs and supernatural roundup)

Fall Exchange 2020 here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘morbid stuff’ series here

‘The End Is Up To Us’ here

‘Autumn Crocus’ here

‘The Suit Universe’ part 8 here

‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ here

‘FoxTail Cafe’ series part 13 here

‘Apple Picking Day’ here

‘Fair Games’ here

‘little ghost’ here

‘Lucky Strike’ here

‘Foxglove Court’ series here

‘Thanks for nothing’ here

‘Teaching a caged bird to fly’ series part 5 here

‘Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ here

‘Spell it Out’ here

‘10 tips to stress less, without the tips’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’ here

Honeycomb by moonix [Rated T, 10871 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

In which Kevin owns a restaurant in a picturesque small town, Andrew is his chef, Neil disrupts the routine, no one gets poisoned with mushrooms, and life isn't so bad.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Seasons of memory by butallmystars [Rated G, 4772 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil was all sorts of alluring and unusual; a thin strip of seemingly restless energy, eyes moving almost as much as his legs did, the bespoke lines of his blazer the most uniform thing about him and yet somehow not out of place.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you wish I was yours (and I hope that you're mine) by lesbiankaz [Not Rated, 9526 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

“Aaron Minyard,” Allison said in a dramatic tone. “Truth or dare?” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dare.” Kevin wasn't surprised. He knew Aaron would prefer to do a stupid dare instead of telling a single thing about himself. “I dare you,” she paused, making suspense, “to spend seven minutes in heaven with Kevin.” - Kevin has a crush on Aaron. Allison tries to help.

5 ultra-cute fall date ideas that will make your man fall more for you by Bravbo [Rated G, 1364 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

The problem starts with one Neil Josten. Neil who has apparently never celebrated any holidays. Neil, with his blasé attitude about violence. Neil, with his distressingly blue eyes and freckles. Neil, who Andrew want to put on a jar and study like a bug. Yes, Neil Josten is a problem. It´s him that has driven Andrew to this, seeking advice on google like a teenage girl just to make sure Neil has the best holiday.

tw: fire

Float Down (Like Autumn Leaves) series by Apaleyellow [Not Rated, 7309 Words, Collection, Updated Oct 2024]

Part 1: fill my cup half empty (because it's never been half full) [5221 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024] The boy's face in the reflection was pale, almost translucent, with freckles dotting his cheeks and auburn hair falling in untamed curls around his face. His eyes were an icy blue, piercing and filled with a haunting sadness. Nathaniel Wesninski. The Butcher's son. The ghost of the manor. -- OR -- The one where Andrew is a best-selling horror author who visits the Wesninski Manor in search of inspiration for his next book.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

Part 2: would we survive in a horror movie? [2088 Words, Complete, 2024] Their moment was interrupted by Seth's booming voice. "Alright, losers. Time for a real story. Ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?" -- OR -- The one where the Foxes are telling scary stories around a campfire and only Andrew knows who Neil really is.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

penchant by rooftopkisses [Rated T, 5051 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

When Neil is recruited by Coach Wymack to join the track team at Palmetto High School, he draws the attention of Andrew, the artsy loner, as well as Kevin, the sport’s current state champion.

Rebel Rebel by Andreil_pipedream [Rated M, 7905 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

October settles down on the small town outside of Baltimore. Werewolves start haunting the forests and a certain orange cat gets curious. Nell meets an interesting girl who she may or may not have a crush on. After an awkward first meeting, things are made worse- or better- when she finds out they go to the same school. After a few risky decisions and oblivious flirting, she gets a date where everything starts to go wrong.

tw: child abuse, tw: extreme transphobia, tw: gaslighting, tw: confinement, tw: food deprivation, tw: implied/referenced murder

it's still the autumn leaves by TogeMythia [Rated T, 3389 Words, Complete, 2024]

‘Can I come with you?’ Andrew paused, he was sat on the floor with one foot awkwardly in the air and a black sock with an orange pumpkin pattern halfway pulled on. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Can I come with you? Wherever you are going.’ - or Neil and Andrew spend an autumn afternoon together.

A Bushel and a Peck by justdk [Rated T, 1405 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew picked a few low hanging apples, handing one to Neil. They wiped them off on their shirts and snacked on them while they looked for the rest of the team. The sweet, tangy juice filled Neil’s mouth and ran down his chin. It tasted way better than a store-bought apple. Overhead crows called to each other and the smell of apples filled the crisp, autumn air. Neil closed his eyes and breathed in deep, holding in the feeling of freedom and possibility. When he opened his eyes, he found Andrew looking at him, hazel eyes warm and steady. [or: the Foxes go apple picking]

Bets, Blind Dates, and Dares. Oh My! by makebelieveanything [Rated T, 3761 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew loses a bet to Aaron and Kevin and he has to go on two blind dates - they go about as well as he would expect. Is Andrew stuck in a rom-com or is this really how life works?

gourd vibes only by otatop [Not Rated, 3750 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

A mini road trip up through New England to meet the foxes.

Disparity by Jeni182 [Rated G, 3781 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

Andrew is a criminal justice professor who keeps finding excuses to visit the library where a certain red head works.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

hopscotch heart by moonix [Rated M, 2046 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Podfic here

Neil has a terrible time at a party. Andrew shows up and Neil has a slightly less terrible time at a party.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: anxiety

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness by seaspeak [Not Rated, 869 Words, Complete, 2016, Locked]

In which Jean falls in love with the Fall, thanks to Jeremy

There Was Only One Pumpkin by familiarwildflowers [Not Rated, 2275 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

To get Nicky off his back about his dating life, Neil decided to lie. Surely there would be no consequences? That's what Neil thought, until, while on a visit to a pumpkin patch, Andrew's lot steps in and he's forced to confront his lie.

Pumpkin Patch by H_bee69 [Rated G, 1600 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 1 of Spooky times and autumn vibes 

Neil wants to go to the pumpkin patch and who is Andrew to deny Neil.

until I fell off from that peak by eeveepkmnfan [Rated M, 4817 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten lives and tries to come to terms with what that means. Or, Neil collects leaves - Andrew vocally protests.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Forever Falling by cshogg [Rated G, 1370 Words, Complete, 2023]

Snippets of Neil and Andrew's life during autumn: trying new things, rewriting traumatic experiences, and learning to love the seasons like normal people do.

[purrplegyuu]

The best for both of us | Choi Beomgyu

Pairing: Writter!oc (named Seoli), animator!Beomgyu

Warnings: penetrative sex, oral (fem receiving), clitoris stimulation, unprotected sex, overstimulation, poor plot, gaslighting, non corresponded love, toxic Beomgyu, soft som Beomgyu, sub reader, lemmie know if im missing something.

Word count: 2,6k

Masterlist

“We’ve already read your book and it’s amazing. We also saw the animations, and we all thought they are perfect for our style. However…” he stops talking.

“However, it’s too disturbing for anyone under fifteen” says his boss. The woman, the owner of the video games company, who wears an expensive suit that screams everywhere she’s a squared closed box. I don’t really know how she manages a video games company. “Which wouldn’t concern us if we didn’t want the money, but we need this project to be suitable for all ages”

“I talked about this before, I have already rejected various contracts because I’m not interested in any project in which my art is changed” I say.

“Well, as I already said before, we need this to be suitable for all ages”

I stand up, taking my documents from the table, and when I’m about to leave, Beomgyu takes my arm, forcing me to sit down.

“Well, why don’t we listen to their proposal?” He asks, looking at me with killing eyes, which I don’t really understand since he’s always been on my side when I rejected last projects for the same reason.

“Yeah, sure. We just thought it would be better if Kira’s enemy isn’t her mother but her father. This way, we can avoid some future problems with angry mothers” one of the workers points out in the presentation, the part where all of the changes appear. I frown, disgusted. “We can also make her boyfriend the good guy instead of just another enemy—you know, for the love scenes we need to create a fandom” A good boyfriend? In real life? I cannot help laughing sarcastically at this, to which Beomgyu hits me with his elbow on my arm. “And she might also change a little bit—see, this is Kira before, and this might be her after” the picture on the presentation shows the draw Beomgyu made with my instructions. I told him to use only black ink, and draw it very messy. I remember the day we decided that this art style was just perfect for my book. When I created Kira I was thinking of the worst part of the world, I even got inspired by my own life. She’s too thin because she had very poor eating habits, she’s tall, her hair is messy and greasy and the clothes she wears are made for someone bigger. Which makes a big contrast with the whole new character they made—this Kira is short, and has a big pair of round boobs, a tiny waist and big thighs; her hair is pretty and… she just seems like another video game girl character.

“We will skip her eating disorder, and she will not die at the end. There’s obviously more changes to do, but those are the most important ones”

Everyone looks at me while I try to do as much as I can in order to not explode there and then. I feel just so offended that I cannot even speak. Even if I open my mouth, nothing comes out.

I stand up, take my papers and get out of the office, not even worrying if Beomgyu tries to hold me once again.

After an hour or two of getting back home, I finally start to calm down. That’s exactly when Beomgyu enters home too.

“Fuck, you could have waited for me, you know?” He wasn’t mad, that’s just his usual behavior.

“Seoli, we need to talk” I do not turn around to face him, keeping up on reading the instructions of the new bedroom lamp I just bought. “Seoli” he takes my hand, forcing me to turn around. “Why do you keep rejecting any minor change in your books?”

I turn my eyes. “You should know that, Gyu. My books are all too personal. If I write something is because I feel it, and I don’t like it to be changed”

“Yeah, I understand that, but you cannot keep rejecting every opportunity you have” he sighs. “See, babe, I think this is the best company you’ve been contacted by, and if you want to succeed, you should sign with them”

I frown. “Why do you like this company that much? I’ve rejected thousands of companies before, and you always supported me”

“I’m just looking for the best for both of us. We’re twenty now, but soon, we’re gonna be thirty, and forty, and fifty; we need to make money for the future… this isn’t a big company—small enough for you to be important and ask for almost everything you want, but also big enough to succeed monetarily and as an artist. This is just what we need”

“I don’t care about the money, everything I care about is being loyal to myself. I won’t sell myself and my art to some shitty company. The things they said to me in that reunion were almost insulting! How the fuck am I supposed to be fine while seeing one of my deepest books being thrown away this bad and be happy with it because I MIGHT get two hundred dollars a month from now on?! Specially in this one book!… this is almost my own autobiography…” the last words were almost audible, very low in contrast with the rest of my screams. It hurts my heart as I said it.

I see some kind of compassion in my colleague’s eyes. We never talked too deeply about it, but I did tell him that most of my books have some kind of self insert somewhere, but never as important as this one.

He takes my body in his hands, hugging me so comfortably as one only time before—when I confessed to him, and he said sorry because he couldn’t correspond to me.

He moves apart without letting me go, and unexpectedly, takes the back of my neck and kisses me. He only touches my lips with his once, moving away just a little, and then kisses me deeper when I take the back of his neck also with my right hand and his shoulder with my left hand.

He’s gentle at first, only leaving some close mouthed kisses on my lips, until he notices I’m more eager, and then, he devours my mouth whole like it's the last thing he’s gonna do on earth.

His hands travel all over my body as he starts kissing the side of my neck, sucking on my skin, biting and then licking, to which I cannot do anything but hum in pleasure—he touches my back, caresses my waist and pushes the hem of my gray shirt up.

I squeeze his shoulder when he take off my shirt and starts kissing my clavicles, and scream of pleasure as he bites the bone.

While devouring my torax, he manages to take off my black bralette, and kisses all of the skin of my small breasts, making me wonder if he actually likes the curvy girls he shows me of it it’s always been nothing but a façade in order to no look like a pervert.

He takes my hand from the back of his neck, moving away from me, unbuttoning my low-rise jeans and lowering my panties, then guiding me to sit on the couch. I oblige, and soon he’s kissing my body again, my abdomen, my pelvis, my thighs—which he takes and puts them over his shoulders before looking at me, right in the eyes as if looking for consent, but keeps going without a second of thought.

I scream when I feel his muscle exploring all of my cunt without a warning.

“Gyu-“ I moan while tapping his back with the tip of my foot.

He notices I got more sensitive everytime he stimulates my clitoris with his tongue, so he decides to do precisely this while one of his fingers caresses my entrance. A second finger enters, and he starts scissoring as if measuring if something will be able to come in.

My hand found its way on Beomgyu’s fluffy hair, which I take strongly trying to move it apart but also trying to keep it as close as I can.

Once he positions himself on the perfect way to have me screaming his name once and again and again, he starts doing it nonstop, faster, and holding my body by my pelvic area so I don’t move too much. My whole body trembles from pleasure, and I feel the knot on my lower abdomen tightening so much I feel it’s about to break.

And within thirty seconds morr, my whole body spasms under his, while I scream nonesenses and cry his name. He keeps on licking my whole cunt, cleaning me from my orgasm, making me cry at the oversensitivity. I try to push his face away, however, my strength after an orgasm is always null.

He goes back to the same speed as earlier, to which I scream: “Too much, gyu!”, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his pace becomes even faster, making my head spin as I unexpectedly orgasm once again, faster than the first time.

He caresses my pelvic bones, licking my juices from his face. He stands up and kisses my lips once again, letting me taste my own cum.

I hear his right hand unbuttoning his jeans while his left hand helps him hover over me. I hear his clothes fall to the ground, and then, his tip touches my left thigh. I move away from the kiss for a second, moaning as I mentally prepare myself for having sex after one and a half large years of not being active.

“I know it’s always been hard to go through changes, babe,” he mutters in between kisses. “but everything I’m doing is looking for the best for you. You’re really successful with your books, but you don’t know if it will ever change as you grow up” the contrast between his lovely words and his condescending voice tone, and his hand lifting one of my legs up to my ribs making me go crazy. “Besides, you can ask for any change you want, and as long as it doesn’t make the game too disturbing for kids under twelve years old, they will accept it” the tip of his cock touches my clitoris at first, and then, he explores my whole cunt, looking too casual in contrast with my high expression. “Seoli, I will always be by your side” and suddenly, that option didn’t seem like trash anymore.

With that, he puts the head of his cock inside my entrance, to which I scream squeezing his shoulder. He goes back to kiss my clavicles while going on until he bottoms out. Feeling his tip against my spongy point, the deepest part of my cunt, makes me forget about all of the doubts I have, and I already know that the second I wake up tomorrow, I will be calling the company and ask for them to meet again.

He doesn’t give me time to get used to his big size, and starts moving immediately after he bottoms out, at a savage pace that makes my head spin. The way he’s hitting my cervix strongly over and over again has me cumming after less than two or three minutes. He doesn’t stop there though, and doesn’t even slow down. The second orgasm comes after maybe five minutes more, much more intense and piercing. My legs tremble, and he chuckles while taking my other leg and lifting it up to my chest also, making his cock go even deeper.

He holds both my legs up with one hand while the other stimulates my clitoris in circular motion, nonstoping, without giving me time to recover.

I cum once again, and my whole body feels so tense I feel like I'm about to break.

“Gyu-yu, I can’t anymore” I cry, the tears spilling from the corner of my eyes as I take his shoulders, trying to move his body away from mine. “please”

“I know, sweet, but you’re gonna help me cum too, right? You’re not a selfish princess, right?” His face is not close to mine now, and my legs find their way on his shoulders while he prepares himself for fucking my cunt faster and stronger than before.

I squeeze the silk of the couch, while my tears run down my face and all over the couch, and I scream his name over and over. His pace becoming even more animalistic as I feel his cock twitch inside of my vagina, the heat inside of me making me feel like I’m about to be torn there and then. The feeling is so unbearable, but also addictive. At this point, I don’t even understand myself.

He cums inside of me with a guttural growl, and keeps fucking his cum in for some seconds before using his hand to try to put his cum in when it tries to escape. I cum on his fingers one last time, and he leaves a kiss on my forehead.

(…)

I fix my lanyard with my work ID on my neck, holding my drawing tablet and the handmade sketches I’ve made.

“Oh, see! There’s coffee over there!” Beomgyu says amazed.

“Every company has coffee for workers, Gyu”

He goes to get a cup while I look for the office. The boss asked me to meet her once I accepted working with her. I signed the contract a week ago after making her accept the clause of letting my opinion be the most important one over there.

“Oh, Seoli!” That voice… it’s just impossible to forget it. “Oh my god, I’m so excited to see you again! Ever since high school I knew you were gonna succeed, you’re so talented!”

We went to high school together, and after we graduated, we also went to the same college. She stuck to me since then, but I never liked her a lot. She wasn’t a bad person, I just didn’t match her energy. However, I did everything I could in order to separate her from me in college, right after I realized Beomgyu liked her. Beomgyu and I met at college—the three of us decided to study an art major—, and it took us only one semester to start living together as roommates, and two more months to start working together on the animation of my books. We left college so we could put all of our time on making money with the animations, and luckily, that was enough for Beomgyu to forget her. At least that was what I thought.

“Dami? Do you work here?” I ask.

“Kind of. My mother is the owner of this company, and she likes me to participate on all of the projects. We’re gonna be a team! Just like in college!” She says with a big smile. “Where’s Beomgyu, by the way?”

Everything makes sense suddenly, why did he get so excited when I received the invitation to this company, and why was he so eager for me to come, and why did he want me to stay here.

I turn around slowly, and as soon as I find him with a scared expression, I feel my eyes ache.

He fucked me so he could get a chance with the one girl he likes.

How dumb.

[illyabata]

why do i get attracted to fictional men i know would manipulate me and why am i okay with it🧚‍♀️this post is about sunday from honkai star rail

like imagine him telling you you have to stay with him because the strong (powerful?) protect the weak or whatever he says with his philosophy. like it sounds chivalric and stuff but also we all know hes kind of a lunatic and whatnot, so he’d use it solely to convince you that you need him, you weak little thing—you would not survive if he didn’t keep you safe.

you’re just like the little baby charmony dove he and his sister nurtured in their youth: a precious, vulnerable thing without the ability to fly.

sunday had seen that baby bird try with all its scarce might to learn. he had then seen it plummet to its death. he had picked it up, had watched it writhe pitifully in his palms before it breathed its last breath; if only he had kept it safe and sound. if only he hadn’t let it try what he knew it could not do.

that baby bird was never meant to fly. and neither are you, darling.

but like omgggg giggling and kicking my feet. scary powerful morally questionable man who provides protection 😍 😍😍😍😍 he can lock me up idc i love him

[crybaby-bkg]

our love is god

Gojo Satoru x f!reader Warnings: gaslighting, emotional manipulation (both light but current themes), codependency, get togethers and then break ups, reader cries a lot in the later half lol, cowgirl position, heavy petting, unsafe sex, creampies, baby trapping, hinted stalker gojo, drinking at a party. I think that's all but pls tell me if I missed anything. other than that, enjoy!! Word Count: 8.2k Notes: I can’t write him normally I fear </3 nor can I write a fic for him without including a title from the heathers lol anyway, he’s not as obsessed in this fic as I originally intended, but I still enjoyed writing this so :) I hope you all enjoy reading it!!! 🖤 Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

When Gojo first introduces himself to you, you’re the definition of unimpressed. He’s all pretty white smiles and even whiter hair, shining blue eyes with a knack of typically getting anyone he wanted. It’s why he took such a liking to you and your indifference to him, his status, his charms. 

So, you’re still not sure how you ended up dating him after almost a year of pursuing you. You’re stubborn, you can admit, but also weak for the idiot that is Gojo Satoru. He’s still as annoying as he was when you first met him, but there’s something about him now, that has captivated you. Maybe it was his persistence, or his wits, or the never ending love that spilled from between his ribcage whenever he was near you. 

Either way, you find yourself tied to his hip most days. Even though your majors in college are different, you’re still together more than people expected. Despite living together, being around the other is a necessity, a need, akin to each breath you exhale that he inhales into his own greedy mouth. You have your first class and he meets you for a quick break before his second; you have the whole afternoon off on Wednesday’s and you wait for him at the campus cafe you first met at; you want to stay home to study and he drags you off to a night with his friends. 

You don’t think that he can live without you. Not necessarily in the sense of being a man child and being unable to provide for himself, no. Gojo Satoru could do whatever he wanted, and did, long before you two had met. But, you think its a certain codependency that starts cracking at the perfect mirror that is your relationship. 

“Don’t you wanna be a stay at home wife after you graduate?” Satoru whispers in your ear, his mouth pecking your flesh as he hugs you tight to his chest. You’re on your couch, thighs split open to accommodate the thickness of him, his legs and his cock carving its way inside of you. The way your breath hitches doesn’t go unnoticed by the blue eyed man, but he can’t pinpoint if its from his words or the way he slowly pushes his hips upward until his tip nudges that sweet spot inside you 

“What are you talking about, ‘Toru?” You ask shakily, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, burying your face in his skin. But Gojo doesn’t let you escape, instead pries you away from his body until you’re forced to lean back on his knees. He likes this view the most, when you’re vulnerable, when he gauges you with things he knows will require complete honesty, that its harder to hide from him like this. 

“You heard me,” Satoru grins, nodding his head toward you. He holds your waist in too big hands, drinking you with all too knowing eyes, grin too wide to be anything else but devious. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted to be a stay at home wife before?”

“I never s-said that,” you whisper back, eyes fluttering shut when he starts using your body to fuck his cock. He fills you up in a familiar way, a way that you know you’ll always come home to, even when you get that sinking feeling that you should run. Gojo pouts at you, leaning his head back on the couch until all you see is his stare down the bridge of his nose, his Adams apple bobbing when he swallows down a moan. 

“Didn’t you?” Satoru questions, grin widening when he thrusts a little harder than you expect, feeling you clamp down tighter around him. You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut before they flutter open to glare at him, rolling your hips to get some friction on your neglected clit. 

“Stop it, ‘Toru, you always do this.” You groan under your breath, leaning your own head back to rest between your shoulders. 

The few hiccups you had in your relationship with Satoru always centered around his…cockiness, knowing he could get anything he wanted. While it was both a factor that helped you into this relationship with him, it also chips away at your love for him everyday. It’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, of knowing what you want. But its something completely different when that want goes against what your partner is saying isn’t okay with them. 

He’s done this before, with little trivial things. Don’t you love this kind of ramen? Even though he knew you had an aversion to spicier foods. Don’t you want to change your major to this instead? Even though you were sure and loved the major you had before. Don’t you want to change for me? Erase your identity for me? Become one symbiotic being fused into me? Don’t you want to live in my skin, as I want to with yours? Don’t you love me? 

“I do not,” Gojo huffs, leaning forward to grip your head on both sides, leveling your glare with his own relaxed one. “You just have so much going on in that pretty little head of yours, that you forget things sometimes.”

“I think I would remember saying I wanted to waste away all the years I worked my ass off for college, just to stay at home and be up under you everyday.” You snip back, losing your concentration for your impending orgasm, growing more and more frustrated as he keeps yapping his stupid mouth. Gojo must sense this though, as his hands slither down to your hips, holding you still as he fucks up into you hard enough that you cry out and topple over into his chest. 

“That doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea to me,” Satoru grunts out, holding you close as he keeps snapping his hips into you. It’s like something within him has changed in just a split second; like you speaking the words aloud have rung true in his mind. It should scare you, that he’s not paying attention to the sarcasm in your voice, nor your disdain for the idea itself. But, he doesn’t stop snapping his hips until you cry out and shake in his lap, cunt clenching down around him sporadically as you mewl into his skin. 

“I like the idea of coming home to you,” he grunts in between breaths, still using your hole even though you whine to him about sensitivity. “With a big rock on your finger, all domestic, waiting and dependent on me.” 

He whispers the last part, squeezing you to him even tighter before you feel him shoot ropes of cum inside of you. Its warm—and always familiar—making you sigh as you slump into him even more. You let him finish before hearing him let out a final low grunt, pulling you into him until your head is tucked under his chin. You sit there in silence, feeling him still throbbing inside of you, and you think he must still be having those stay at home wife fantasies. You want to put an end to them immediately, so you speak up in the quietness of the room,

“Don’t get stuck in your head thinking your fantasy will become reality, Satoru.” You remind him, pinching his side where your arms rest. You can hear his smile in his voice when he speaks, wrapping long arms tight around you, so tight you fear you may never escape. 

“It always does.” He singsongs, pecking the crown of your head before resting his cheek on top of it. You frown, going to pull away, but he holds you so tight, that your breath momentarily escapes you. 

“Well, not this time.” You mumble, feeling the tiredness of a long week start to overtake you. Gojo doesn’t say anything for a long time until he’s sure you’re sleep, whispering into the air, 

“We’ll see about that.” 

…

You’re surprised that Gojo is surprised when you break up with him. You thought he would’ve been able to see it coming, especially since you had started pulling away in your last few weeks together. Instead of spending damn near every moment together, suddenly you were always busy with something else; you couldn’t go to the cafe, couldn’t sneak into empty hallways between classes, couldn’t come to the parties his friends would throw. 

He thought he could pull you into him more during these moments, discuss things he knew you loved, dropped subjects he knew would push you away. But it was too late for any of that—you were checked out of this relationship before your mouth could even form the words. 

“You don’t mean that.” Gojo mutters under his breath, the fringe of his hair blocking his vision as his head hangs low between his shoulders. He sits on that same couch where he tried to convince you that his dream of you dropping everything to become a stay at home wife was your idea. The thought makes your stomach churn—he’s always done this to you. Always planted ideas in your head that you knew weren’t true, but if Satoru said it, then there must be some sort of truthfulness in it, right? 

“I do.” You say firmly, back straight where you stand in front of his hunched over form on the couch. Your body is poised to run in case he does something unhinged, and you’re sure he won’t, but you refuse to take any chances. He gets quiet for a long while, before croaking out a quiet,

“Why? What did I do?” You could scoff. What did he do? What didn’t he fucking do to you to drive you to this point? 

What was the driving force to disconnecting from him? You wonder if it was the codependency that he forced upon you, like he couldn’t live without you? If it was the constant messages of your whereabouts that shredded you thin, when you weren’t around him, when you tried to be independent? Was it the clinginess? The feeling of his skin glued to yours all the time, the feeling of being trapped in his shadow? Was it the overbearing love, the struggle to breathe on your own? Was it all of it? But instead of expressing any of this, all you can spit out is a meekly excuse,

“I just don’t think we’re meant to be together.” You whisper, suddenly ashamed at your cowardice. You had a whole speech prepared on how you would break up with him, how you’d point out his flaws, his incapacity to love you as a person and not as a possession. But you swallow it all down, afraid too much will come back up, that you’ll ruin the front of your clothes with your verbal bile that he won’t be able to clean like he used to anymore. 

“That’s it, huh?” Satoru asks you quietly, craning his neck slightly so that a glowing blue eye can peek through his fringe. It unnerves you more than it should, and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand with every passing second. He knows there’s more to it, more that you refuse to say, but honestly, you’re not sure if its worth it anymore. You just want to leave. 

“That’s it.” You nod, finality barely lacing your tone, as you still stand on shaky grounds. You clear your throat and look around the apartment, wringing your hands together as Gojo continues to watch you. 

“I’ll, uh, get my clothes and stuff tomorrow. You can keep everything else.” You tell him, avoiding his gaze as your eyes dart over to the front door. You wonder, if he chases you, will you be able to make it out alive? 

“Where are you going to live?” He asks you, finally lifting his upper body so that he sits up on the couch, his hands folded neatly in his lap. You don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of you yet. 

“Me and a friend found an apartment not too far from campus.” You don’t want to disclose too much information, afraid he would find you and pretend that you guys never broke up. Pretend that everything is okay, and be glued right back to your flank as if nothing had ever happened. Or maybe you just think the worst of him, you conclude, when Gojo smiles at you. It’s not as unsettling as you would think, more on the side of acceptance, but it baffles you all the same. 

He unfurls himself from the couch, standing too tall, too broad, too intimidating, despite the fact that he curls in a little to keep you from being scared. He opens his arms to you, and you try not to stare at the bulging muscles beneath his black tee, muscles that are all too familiar and call your name to come running back home. 

“Well, okay then.” Gojo finally speaks after what feels like hours. “I wish you the best.” His voice sounds all too genuine, all too sweet and convincing. 

He’s taking this…well? Gojo, who wouldn’t let you breathe in your own breaths without his mouth being pressed right against yours? Whose heart slowed to the rhythm of your own to always be in sync? Who would hold you close every night, almost as if in fear that you would escape in the night and leave him stranded? He’s…alright with you breaking up with him?

Like you’re under a spell, your feet move heavily until they fit perfectly between his own spread ones, arms coming up to his sides until he embraces you tightly. He’s warm, always is, and smells so familiar that you feel your own heart ache knowing that his scent will become a haunting memory instead of the comfort of home. He wraps you up in him until his arms squeeze your shoulders and your face is buried into his chest. 

You don’t realize that you’re crying until he kisses the top of your head, shushing you to stop your hiccuping sobs as you cling to his shirt. Why are you crying? This was your decision after all. But why does him accepting your breakup hurt more? Why didn’t he fight for you? He would always fight for you. 

“Okay, I have a lecture in about twenty minutes.” Gojo tells you, a signal to pull away, and you do, but it hurts more than it really should. You wipe your face with your sleeve, avoiding his eyes as he holds you back by the shoulders, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. 

“I’ll always love you, you know that?” He tells you, eyes searching your face. You swallow down a hiccup, scrubbing at your eyes petulantly as you nod a few times. 

“I hope you have a successful life.” You can almost hear him tacking on a quiet without me, but he only smiles at you again before pecking your forehead one last time. After that, he squeezes your shoulders before he lets you go, turning on his heel as he starts gathering a few things. He’s at the door in what feels like seconds, his broad back facing you, feeling you staring at him. He turns his neck until his eye catches your own, winking at you once before opening the door and walking out. 

It’s the last time you see Gojo for a while, and it makes you feel emptier than you care to admit. 

…

As time goes on, you start to get better. Things get a little easier to deal with, you start gaining more independence while living with your friend, start going out more, getting better grades. You never thought that you were necessarily a terrible match with Satoru, but you think in certain aspects that he held you back more than you ever recognized in those moments. 

But, overall, everything is going fine. Well, mainly everything, save for your love life. 

You wanted to take a break from dating after being in your relationship with Gojo for over a year, but its been eight months since you split, and you don’t see yourself getting with anyone else in the meantime. You’re in your last year of college, so you’re hoping for some kind of hookup before you graduate, but it feels like something else is off. Like the people around you avoid you when you’re near if they aren’t already yours friends, like they’re hesitant to be near you without setting clear boundaries that they’re not interested in you at all. 

You chalk it up to your past with Gojo, as most people knew you were together. Maybe they’re scared of pissing him off and getting with his ex. You’ve heard rumors from people that he thinks you’ll get back together soon, but you’re not sure if these words actually came from him, or if people just like to gossip. Either way, you try to let it roll off of your back, and put yourself out there to people who don’t go to your school. 

Which still ends up being a dud. You think you just might be cursed, or something. You can’t even get laid with a random hookup! You’re sure its Gojo doing something to make everyone lay off of you, but you also haven’t spoken to him since the breakup, so you’re not sure if confronting him about it is a great idea. 

Except, the choice is taken from you when you find yourself in the cafe that you first met him in, and he’s there too. You hadn’t noticed him, if he was already there when you came, or if he slithered in after you, but he’s there. Sitting diagonal from your booth, facing you, hands under his chin as he yaps away to his friend, Suguru. You remember the guy well, although you were never too close with him, and he seems intrigued with whatever Gojo is blabbering on about, which is typically unusual. 

Your eyes quickly flit back over to your laptop screen where you text who you’re sure will be another unsaved contact from a dating app, pretending to not see the white haired man. But luck hasn’t been on your side in a while, as you can see him perk up from the corner of your eye as his whole body turns to you, his conversation abruptly cutting off. He calls your name once and you pretend not to hear him, but then he’s standing and making his way over to you, and you fear you can’t avoid him any longer. 

“Long time no see.” Gojo greets you, standing over your table with too big a grin. You act surprised at the sight of him, gasping a little before raising your eyebrows, fingers slowing in their typing until they stop. 

“Hey, its been a while, hasn’t it?” You ask, even though you know, and you’re sure he knows too, that you’ve been avoiding him as much as humanly possible. But Gojo only smiles wider at you, cocking his head to the side as he takes you in shamelessly, and you do the same. 

He looks…bigger, than he did before, his shoulders broader, his physique just a little wider than you remember. He looks more relaxed than you think he would be, after you unceremoniously breaking up with him, and then actively avoiding him for almost an entire year after that. He looks…good. 

“May I?” Gojo asks, referring to the seat in the booth across from you. You stutter for a second, wondering if you should allow him back in, even if its in the tiniest amount. You did last time, in this same cafe, and ended up with him glued to your very being. You don’t know if you’re strong enough to unstick him another time. But you swallow and force a smile, nodding once to the empty space in front of you. 

“Sure,” you mumble, trying to quickly shut out the dating app on your laptop, exiting out of the messages without looking too obvious. But its like Gojo always knows when something is up, and he rests his chin in his hand as the other taps at the table, too loud in the quiet cafe. 

“Meet anyone new yet?” He asks, making your eyes shoot up to his own guiltily. But he smiles that easygoing smile at you, making you suck in a deep breath as you finally calm enough to close out the app. 

“No luck in that department yet. Not sure if its an unfortunate thing, though.” You hum, eyes flittering up to his own that are covered by his infamous circled glasses. He never really wore them when he was around you, and you feel weird by the sudden melancholy that overtakes you at the thought. You’ve grown without me, Satoru, you don’t treat me the same anymore. I thought you always would. 

“Me neither, but I don’t think its unfortunate.” He tells you, tilting his head a little to the side as he huffs out a humorless laugh. You want to ask him what he means by that, but you’re afraid of the answer. Thankfully, he speaks before you find out what his statement really meant. 

“How were you grades last semester? Did you end up passing that dick professor’s class?” Gojo asks softly, all of his attention on you, makes you feel a little overwhelmed, and all too familiar. But if its a negative thing, you can’t really figure it out. You didn’t like the constant attention, the clinginess and dependency, but there was something about someone so devoted to you. Someone who looked at you like you molded lighting bolts in hand and struck down soft soil to create the earth. Someone who looked at you like you held the secrets of their life behind your teeth, like some prophet one could only wish to get close to. 

“I passed. Barely.” You mumble, smiling a little when Gojo celebrates with a clap and a small cheer, making Suguru turn around slightly to catch the commotion. He calms when he sees you sink in on yourself in embarrassment, smiling at you all the while with a look too familiar. That goes on for what feels like hours, like the entire world has sunken away, drowned out into a blurry nothingness as your background. 

Here, its just you and Satoru. Here, there are no issues or problems in your relationship. Here, you love him and he loves you and that is enough. Here, your love for him conquers all doubt and fear. Here, your love is perfect. 

The spell is broken suddenly when Gojo leans back in the booth, stretching a little. You feel the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding come flooding back to you, making you slump over a little in your seat. A ding from your computer signals suddenly, making your eyes dart over to the notification. Its from the dating app, the guy you were just texting suddenly telling you that he can’t make it to your date tonight, but that he’d love to see you after midnight at his place. 

You deflate, and Gojo is far too perceptive. He clears his throat once, making your eyes snap back over to him in surprise, and then quickly guilt. But why do you feel so guilty? You’re single, you broke up with him. But its something about the way his mouth twitches at the corner, that makes shame sink deep into the pit of your belly. 

“I’ll see you around,” Gojo says lowly, tipping his head at you and standing before you can get a word out. Your mouth opens and closes a few times, before managing to spit something out, 

“And I’ll—I’ll see you!” You cringe the moment the words leave your mouth. But Gojo only gives you a half smile, reaching out to rub gently at the crown of your head, an act he would always do whenever you did something he was quite fond of. You guess things never really change. 

…

Your roommate had convinced you to go to a party with her, one to celebrate the end of your fall semester. You were reluctant at first, but after the umpteenth rejection, you decide your ego needs some kind of boost. Since it was a little colder, you dressed warm, but still adorned something that you hope would draw more eyes to your form. 

When you get there, the party is in full swing. There’s a loud bass playing somewhere in the house, people littering the dance floor, cups of mysterious juice being passed around to everyone who enters. As you make your way inside, you quickly lose sight of your friend, and it doesn’t bother you as it usually would. 

Tonight, you’re on the hunt for someone new—someone not Gojo. But, you think you might’ve personally pissed off a deity or something, because of fucking course, he’s there at the party. Sitting on a couch between his friends with his too long limbs and dark glasses despite it damn near being pitch black in the house, save for some colorful lighting strobing across the walls. 

You catch his face, a stream of a soft baby blue gracing his features, at the same time his head turns in your direction. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you know he’s looking at you. You can always tell when he is. And he smiles a little smile, tipping his head and his cup to you, and awkwardly, you do the same back before stiffly turning on your heels to head for the kitchen. 

It’s just as stuffy in there as the rest of the house, but there is a little more breathing room. You take a second to catch your breath, mumbling a quick apology to whatever deity you pissed off, before grabbing a cup. 

“Hey, can you pour me some too?” A voice rings out from beside you, making you perk up in surprise. You look over and find a pretty handsome guy beside you, smiling and offering a red solo cup in your direction. He smiles when you look at him, and you smile back with a nod. 

“Of course. Tell me when,” you say over the loud music, filling up his cup and laughing when a little spills over because the guy is too busy looking at you. He chuckles under his breath, grabbing a few napkins to wipe up the mess as he stands there watching you pour your own drink. 

“I don’t usually fumble this bad, you know.” The guy tells you, pretty smile beaming as you look at him from over your cup, mirth shining in your eyes. You cock an eyebrow at him, resting your hip against the counter. 

“Oh, really?” You tease, to which he nods quickly. “So I just make you nervous then, huh?” You grin, to which he grins back cheekily, shrugging a little as he forgoes an answer to take a swig of his drink. Conversation with the guy goes smoothly for a few minutes, before he suddenly turns stone still, looking over your shoulders. You cock an eyebrow, repeating your previous question, before turning to see what’s captured his attention. You don’t see anybody, and when you go to ask him what’s wrong, you discover that he’s already disappeared into the crowd. 

The rest of the night goes eerily like this, like there’s some bad omen just lingering above your head, like there’s some warning sign strapped to your chest telling people to stay far away. Every conversation that you start with someone ends up the same; a look over your shoulder, before turning pale, and scurrying away with some excuse about having to be somewhere else. 

By the end of the night, you have to bite back tears in the bathroom as you stare yourself down in the mirror. Is it your clothes? Your breath? Your makeup? What the fuck is driving everyone away from you like some walking disease?

The answer to your question pops up in front of you the moment you swing the bathroom door open. Gojo stands in the doorway, entirely too tall, entirely too broad, entirely too handsome. Maybe its the few drinks you’ve downed in the past couple minutes, but the alcohol in your belly is pulling you home. 

“I saw you come up here, and you looked upset, so I just wanted to check on you.” Gojo tells you under the muted bass of the music downstairs. He looks so sincere, his glasses pushed down to the perkiness of his nose, looking at you with a gaze so intense, you feel your legs tremble. 

“I know we broke up a while ago, but I still care for your well being, you know that right?” He professes, reaching a hand out to wipe away a stray tear you hadn’t caught. You try not to lean into his palm when his hand lingers, and he’s gone too fast for your liking. 

You stare up at him all the while, silent, taking him in. It’s been so long since you’ve got to look at him, really look at him, and take every part of him in. When you look at him, you don’t see the dependency or the whining or the frustration when you became too independent. 

No, you see the Satoru that loved you, that put you to bed on nights when you put your physical health after your studies. The Satoru that celebrated your accomplishments every opportunity that he had, who encouraged you to do more, try harder, be your best self. You see the Satoru that always offered companionship, even on days when things were too hard for him to handle himself. You see the company that always stayed beside you, the familiarity of him, his smell, his pretty blue eyes, his chest that welcomed your tears and your snot and every cry you’ve ever had. 

Without a word, you fall into his chest, arms still limp at your sides. You catch him off guard a little, feeling him stumble back once before he braces himself, bringing his arms to wrap around your whole body. He squeezes you tight to him, rubbing the back of your head as you hiccup little cries into his shirt, clutching the fabric of his sweatpants tight in your trembling hands. 

He stands there and lets you get all of your emotions out until you finally slow, still rubbing a comforting hand over your head and down your flank. When your hiccups have longer and longer intervals, is when he finally pulls you back by your shoulders. The position is all too familiar, makes you have flashbacks to that day where you changed the course of both of your lives. Gojo squeezes your shoulders when he sees your bottom lip tremble, and he can’t help but pout back amusedly at your watery eyes. 

“You wanna get out of here, and go back home?” He asks you, leaning down a little so that his face is so close to yours. You can see the different specks of blue in his irises, watch how his nose crinkles a little when you hiccup again and nod slowly, how his mouth curves into a smirk when you wipe at your face with the backs of your hands. 

“Okay, let’s go then.” He says softly, unable to resist leaning forward to peck at your forehead. Your eyes close at the contact, feeling yourself melt back into the person you were a year ago, melded into Gojo, and always finding yourself going back home with him. 

…

Everything feels all too familiar, at the moment. You ride in Gojo’s sleek black car late in the night, the windows rolled down and music that you both hate playing too loudly on the speakers. The only thing different, is that you’re still teary, and he’s quiet. 

“I’m really sorry, you know?” You mutter, still wiping away the tears as they flow freely, now you think because of the alcohol. You wish you would’ve been able to have this conversation a little more sober, but its too late now. You just babble on and on while Gojo listens, one hand on the wheel and the other resting in his lap. 

“I just felt so overwhelmed in our relationship, like I wasn’t myself anymore. And I can’t blame you, like, I have to take some accountability for not doing more to maintain my identity in order to appease you. But I just—I just lost who I was and I just needed a break, but I don’t want space from you anymore.” You rattle on, too afraid to look over at him, scared his jaw would be ticking and his mouth would be set in a firm line. The car is silent for a few seconds before Gojo speaks up,

“So that’s it?” His voice crackles in the car above the music that quiets for a few beats. “We were just on a year long break, and didn’t actually break up?” Your stomach sinks at his words, hands wringing together as you try to piece an explanation together quickly. 

“Well, um—”

“So glad I didn’t cheat then.” Gojo cuts you off, making your head whip over to him in surprise. He’s grinning now, big and wide, reaching a hand over to squeeze at your thigh as he tilts his head in your direction to wink at you. You feel yourself slowly deflate, nerves crumbling with every passing second, every sentence Gojo prattles on with about how much he missed you. 

When you finally gain your composure, you realize that you’ve stopped at a red light, and Gojo is looking at you again. You blink bleary eyes at him—so sweet, so innocent—you watch him practically melt in the drivers seat. His skin is tinged with the red of the traffic lights, makes his eyes look even paler, his mouth even pinker. You sigh softly into the air when his big hand snakes up to cup your cheek, finally allowing yourself to relax into his touch. 

“You’ve always been such a pretty crier.” Gojo whispers to you, and you want to kiss him so, so bad, but you don’t. You let him take control since you hurt him so bad with the breakup, let him control the moment, but you secretly wish that he kisses you until your lungs stop. Instead, he runs his thumb across your bottom lip before pulling away, and you belatedly realize that its because the light has turned green. 

Gojo's hand drops into your lap again though, rubbing gently at your thigh as you keep staring at him. He’s talking about how little the apartment has changed since you’ve been gone, about you moving back in, about having some movers ready before the weekend is up. And you’re listening, you are, but its so hard to fully tune into what he’s saying when he looks so pretty and his big hand keeps stroking at your sensitive thighs. While looking at him, you try and inch his hand closer between your legs, so many memories flooding back of you being in this same position before. 

Except, this time, Gojo does not appease you. No, instead he turns to you with a frown, eyes bouncing back and forth from you and the road, as he stills his hand when you try and tug at it. 

“What were you saying earlier? About needing a break before, about wanting to wait?” He asks you softly, cooing at your little pout that instantly takes over your face. 

“Just wait until we get home, baby. I’ve been without you for so long now, I wanna cherish the moment.” He says fondly, tugging at your bottom lip when you pout. You nod, but don’t say anything, dejected at your rejection from him, telling yourself you should’ve known that things wouldn’t have gone back to the exact same. Only, Gojo sees your little pout, and he’s missed you so damn much, that he can’t help but spoil you. Just a little. 

“Unzip your jeans for me, love.” Gojo calls out to you, nodding his chin in the direction of your legs. You try not to perk up too much, but you listen without a moments hesitation, quickly unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the zipper down in the now quiet car. 

You don’t take them off or shimmy them down your hips too far, just a little, just enough for Gojo to squeeze his hand between them and your panties. From there, he pets gently at your cunt, lithe fingers stroking between your lips, pushing as far as he can into your hole that pulsates around the fabric. He pulls and gently tugs at your pubes, grinning when you hiss, and taps his finger against your hole once more. He feels your increasing wetness starting to spread, and it makes him chuckle, moving deft fingers up to start petting at your clit. 

You sigh softly, dropping your legs open as much as you can with the restrictive material, holding onto Gojo’s arm like a life jacket. And he lets you, coos down to you about how sensitive he forgot you were, how swollen your little clit is already, how you’re seeping through your panties, how dirty you’ve always been for him. When you feel close to coming, from being untouched in so long, from missing his fingers so much, he suddenly stops. 

You whine, digging your nails into his arm as you blink at him confusedly. But Gojo is already pulling into the apartment complex, grinning all the while. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, tapping your clit once, twice, with the pad of his finger to watch your hips stutter. “I’ll get you what you want in no time.”

…

Falling into bed with Satoru is as familiar as breathing, as walking, as loving him. Feels as familiar as waking up beside him and being welcomed by your favorite coffee drink and being kissed despite your morning breath. Feels as familiar as your skin melting into his own, as sharing a set of lungs and kidneys, as your hearts beating the same pattern that is all too familiar with you both. 

When he sinks his cock into your aching heat, you feel like all is right in the world again. What were you thinking before, when leaving him? How could you do that to him, to the both of you? Why would you ever leave when Satoru always felt this good?

You moan into his mouth when he lays on top of you, flat on your back with one leg over his shoulder, as he traps your other leg between his thighs. His pubes brush against your clit when he leans into you, his fringe brushing away the sweat starting to gather on your forehead, huffing a laugh against your lips. 

“Did you miss this? Miss me? I haven’t heard you say it enough tonight.” Gojo teases you, rolling his hips into your sweet cunt with every word. Your eyebrows screw up at the pleasure, and he can’t help but blink bleary eyes open to admire how pretty you look under him. You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you wrap your arms tight around his shoulders. 

“Missed you so much. ‘M so sorry for leaving,” you babble on, grinding your hips into his, feeling him throb deep inside of you at your words. He groans, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lips, dipping it inside when you so graciously welcome him in. 

“You miss me, or was it just my cock?” Satoru asks against you, laughing a little when you quickly shake your head, holding him tight to you. 

“Missed you, missed you so fuckin’ much, ‘Toru.” The sound of his nickname falling from your lips makes him groan into your cheek, pulling his hips back to fuck into you a little harder. He holds the back of your head until your foreheads press together, eyes staring at your fluttering ones from the pleasure, drinking in every piece of you that he can get. 

“You still love me, don’t you? Didn’t forget about how much, right?” Satoru asks, hips starting to slam into yours, pace quickening. Your moans are stuttered with every breath, and you’re sure you’d be sliding up the bed if he didn’t keep such a tight grip on you. You throw your head back with a little yelp when he suddenly presses a wet thumb to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. 

“Huh? Did you forget all your love for me?” Gojo sounds disappointed in you, and that’s the last thing you wanted. Your hands find his nape and his scalp, pulling as soft as you can as you blink a few times through the tears of pleasure. 

“No, never, I could never forget, ‘Toru. Love you so much, so, so much,” you chant your love for him, holding on for dear life to his skin when he starts fucking you with renewed passion. Your words make his cock throb from deep inside of you, make him wanna bring you to the edge just like how he used to. 

And he does, but only this time, he doesn’t let you jump from the edge, no. Instead, Gojo pulls out, shushes your cries with a kiss to your greedy mouth as he moves your leg from his shoulder. He positions you until your lower body is twisted to the side, legs tight together, pretty plump lips peeking from between. He slots his dick back inside of you, comfortable and familiar, sinking in deep and growling at your squeak at how thick he feels in this position. 

“Fuck, feels like you’re splitting me open, ‘Toru!” You whine, reaching out for him when he sits up on his knees. He leans into you, lets you cup his cheek, sucks your thumb into his mouth when it falls open. Gojo looks rabid now, his glasses slipping off of his face as his hips slam into you. Usually, he wouldn’t be so desperate, but you’ve deprived him of this sweet pussy far too long for him to be rational about any of this. 

“You like that? Yeah?” Satoru asks you, one hand holding your hip, the other reaching out to squeeze one of your tits in his hand. You push your chest out to him, nodding and hiccuping as you moan with every thrust inside of your aching cunt. 

“Yeah,” you whine back, eyes glossy as your hands fall back, one holding onto your pillow beneath you that smells just like his shampoo. The other grips the back of his hand that holds your tit, eyes screwing shut when he sneaks down to start thumbing at your clit again. 

“You’re so desperate for me, isn’t that right?” Satoru coos down at you, glasses falling from his face, bouncing off of your hip. He pants from above you, his usual carefully styled hair going awry and all over his head, licking his lips as he stares down at you. You nod quickly, holding on for dear life as you start feeling your orgasm starting to creep on you again. 

“Must’ve been miserable everyday without me, without my cock.” Satoru groans down, leaning back on his knee as he keeps fucking you to admire the sight. He throws his head back when you squeeze your thighs even tighter, cunt clamping down around him, gritting his teeth all the while. 

“Knew you’d come crawling back to me, it was only a matter of time. You looked so pretty doing it,” He growls, watching your telltale signs that your orgasm is near. But, Gojo is a petty bastard, and still insists that he makes you wait. For all its worth, its the least you could do for breaking his heart over needing stupid space. 

He waits until he’s sure you’re on the brink of your orgasm before pulling out once more. You groan and whine this time, but he only manhandles your body until you’re on your stomach, thighs pressed together once more. He cages your legs between his own, pulling at your cheeks until they spread for him, and he takes a second to admire the pretty sight before him. Gojo can’t help but lean down and press a quick kiss to your dripping hole, feeling you clench down quickly and squeak. 

He laughs at you and smacks a hand down on your ass before sitting up again, holding his base so that he can tease his cock at your hole. You whine for him to stop teasing you, to put it in already, make you cum like he has so many times before. 

And he does just that; pressing his leaky tip in inch by slow inch until you’re full of him. You let out a filthy moan until his base and balls are snuggled into your ass, whole body going limp below him. You let him use you as you please, head feeling fuzzy the entire time as he leans his body weight on top of you, fully crushing you. 

“Our love is so strong, isn’t it?” Gojo hums into your ear, committing to slow strokes this time, because he likes how you quiver underneath him when he grinds his tip against your sweet spot. “Feels like nothing could ever break it, like nothing could ever come between us.” 

He kisses your shoulders as he speak, intertwining his fingers into yours, holding your hands where they rest on the pillows beneath you. Its an intimate gesture, makes you swallow the cry that wants to rip out of your throat, burying your face into fluffy fabric that smells of him to moan loudly. 

“You wanna make it even stronger, don’t you?” Gojo whispers under his breath, feeling his cock brush your sweet spot over and over until it drives you crazy. All you can do is nod, squeezing his hand as he nibbles at your ear. 

“Let’s have a baby, together.” His words should alarm you, and so should the lack of a condom that you’re just now realizing. So should how sinister his voice has become, and how his cock swells and kicks inside of you at just mentioning it. 

But, it doesn’t. You don’t think you’ve ever loved him more, supported an idea as much as you did in that vert moment. 

“How’s that sound? Really solidify our love for each other, right?” Satoru pushes and pushes and pushes until you’re teetering on the edge once more. You know, that if you answer correctly, he’ll let you finally jump over. So you do. 

“Put a baby in me, Satoru,” you demand of him, words muffled by your face in the pillows. Gojo groans loud at that, eyes squeezing shut as he thrusts into you so hard that it sends you up the bed, the friction on your clit finally making you reach your orgasm. You cry out loudly, head flying back as Gojo shushes you, mouthing at your throat all the while your legs kick up and your toes curl. 

“And after this, you can make your dreams of being a stay at home mom finally come true.” You drown his words out as you cum, shaking beneath him as you gush all over his cock, long awaited after being denied three times tonight. You think its worth it, even though the back of your mind convinces you that you’ve just made a deal with the devil himself. 

But its hard to be upset when Gojo cums inside of you, filling you up to the brim as he groans into your cheek. His hips keep bucking and stuttering inside of you, fucking his cum back in when you feel it start to slowly slip out. He doesn’t let even a drop slip from around his cock, keeps fucking you and fucking you until you cry about being sensitive. Only then, does he pull out, but he props your tired hips up. 

“Can’t let any of it go to waste, right?” You can hear the grin in his voice, but you’re too tired to tell him you started birth control a few months ago. He rubs your hips and your ass, fingering his cum back in every time your hips shake from exhaustion. Only when you collapse on the bed, knocked out cold, does he let up. 

Gojo sits back on his knees to admire you, the fingertip shaped bruises on your hips, your spent cunt, your drooling mouth, your shut eyes, and wonders. Wonders how you’ll feel years down the line when—and if—he finally tells you how he got you back. While he made you think it was because he allowed you space and time, you couldn’t be further from the truth.

After your breakup, Gojo was always there. Always lingered around the corner, always looked out for you because no one else in this world would. Even if that meant scaring off potential dates, and getting rid of the more persistent ones. Even if it meant having to watch from afar as you tried to move on from him. Even if it meant switching out your birth control for placebos that you were none the wiser of. 

He just loved you so fucking much, and his love for you was stronger than anything in the universe, and he would do—and did— anything to get it back. Even if you would never know of the sins he committed to have you again. 

reblogs and comments are so appreciated! thank you all for reading 🫶🏼

[theashen-fox]

Kidnapped - RP Starter for @fantasyconcrete

It had been a month since Jess and Ash had broken up after that fateful job. Despite the break-up, they still kept in touch, Ash kept working for FADA, and both of them were in the process of figuring out where to go from here. Ash had understood why, of course, or he thought he did. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots: twice she’d betrayed her people’s cardinal rule, and both times he had been present. While he hoped that they could work things out, he wanted her to be happy, and whether that was with or without him was irrelevant.

All things considered, this break-up had been far smoother than his last serious relationship. In that case, he had been the one to break things off on account of his ex, Camille, conspiring to kill his family. Little did he know, she wasn't willing to let their relationship die even after several centuries.

When scouting for potential targets for FADA, all communication from him with their headquarters had ceased. The home he had been sent to investigate was a few miles from a derelict castle and in the weeks since he had gone dark, he had been chained up in a small room with a few cracks in the boarded-up windows, allowing slivers of sunlight to trickle in. It was never enough to kill him, but it was always enough to cause pain and discomfort.

The true tortures were the frequent visits made by Camille to try and convince him that he loved her. For all that time, he had held out, even when Camille had begun shapeshifting to look more similar to a redcap in a deranged attempt to make herself more “appealing.” At last, she had snapped and threatened to kill Jess and take her form if he insisted on being so stubborn. And so Ash had sat there, in pain, worry, and delirium. His fevered mind conjured up many horrific things Camille had done or was doing to Jess.

[centross-mistvale]

Who are you? What did you do to Centross? I know these aren’t normal error messages.

-Icarus ( @icarus-m0rningstar )

[If you have a complaint you can take it up with com services. Otherwise, shut up! :)]

[ashdoeswhump]

Tws: gaslighting, death, suicide mention, punishment for imagined crimes.

Whumper with some form of illusion magic telling whumpee their power is actually communing with the dead, or something like that. They make whumpee see everyone they've loved and lost and convince them that it was their fault, no matter how the loved one died.

Mum died of cancer? Your fault, you should have worked harder to be able to pay for her care and recovery.

Dad killed by a gang while on a work trip? Your fault, you should have been there to help fight the gang off.

Best friend killed themselves? Your fault, you should have looked after them better and given more of yourself to them.

Sibling killed by whumper? Your fault, you should have behaved better.

Make your whumpee believe it's their fault they're getting hurt. Make them genuinely think they deserve it. Make them beg to be hurt, because its the only way they can feel they deserve to live after everything they've done and everyone they've killed.

[plumbob-pudding]

On a late Friday evening, a few hours before Abe was due to return from the city, the mailbox clanged with the sound of letters. Willa hurried to sort through the mail, eager to receive news from home but when she spotted a small tear-stained envelope from Felix, her excitement evaporated.

"Dear sister," it read, "Papa is sick and the doctor doesn't think he has much left. We'd all like to see you and pay our final respects together. Please come as soon as you can."

Tears filled her eyes as she took in the words. She hurried upstairs to pack a small suitcase, wanting to make it to the station in time for the last train. As she folded in the dress she'd worn to Mama's funeral, heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden floor boards. Abe was back.

"Papa's sick," she explained to him, "I must get going."

Abe looked at her with weak pity, wearing that face he always wore when he was about to say no to something Willa really wanted, but surely he couldn't say no to this? Willa thought.

"It says here that he's been sick for a week now" Abe read out Felix's letter, "sick with that sickness your mother had most likely."

Willa nodded, conscious of the time being wasted. If Papa was as sick as Mama had been, she couldn't afford to waste any second.

"My sweet," Abe began and Willa felt all her hope leave her. Abe kept talking, saying she was the most important thing in her life and she ought not to selfishly risk her life by going into the city, but Willa had stopped listening. She knew she would have to disappoint her family yet again so that she could keep Abe by her side.

[vengful-danger-wolf]

You too? You weren't even before what? Oh my gods except like 2. Why.

- @quixis-midas

Why what? I don't know what you mean, nothing has changed about me

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

i had a nightmare, so naturally i wrote about some related to it lmao

My Pleasure | BFF!Levi Fluff

✧ word count ➼ > 950 ✧ notes ➼ fluff, bff!levi ✧ cw: mentions of gaslighting, mentions of invalidation

The breeze was pretty significant with how high up you were. If you looked under you, you could see the night lights. You weren't on that tall of a building, but it was high up enough that you were hidden from prying eyes. Your legs dangled off the edge of the building as you stared off into the distance, doing what little you could to regulate your mood.

Although your head was swirling with chaos, you wore a blank expression on your face. Your eyes seemed empty, and you had been masking for so long that it seemed like second nature at this point.

You didn't even remember what you were upset about, but all you remembered was that you were with your group of friends and had gotten upset about something. When you brought it up, instead of having a productive conversation, your friends decided to invalidate every other thing you were saying. You felt attacked and pushed away, and ended up deciding that the best thing to do was to shut up and mask.

"Haven't seen you here in a bit."

You heard a familiar voice and looked up, seeing probably the only friend you had right now that you didn't resent.

"Could say the same to you."

Levi took a seat next to you.

"Friends say you've been acting different."

You were looking down towards the street below you, holding your hands together as you twiddled your thumbs as a way of fidgeting. It was ironic that your friends even said anything, given how quick they were to push you aside.

You were upset and you couldn't deny that, but you felt you didn't have the right to be upset. You had internalized their beliefs that you were 100% in the wrong, and convinced yourself that any negative emotion you were having should just be pushed away and that you didn't need to bother anyone else with it.

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Levi said with a scoff. "Look at me."

After a few seconds of no response, he tutted in disapproval and shoved at your shoulder a bit.

"Look at me," he repeated.

You finally turned and lifted your gaze to meet his. You could see the deep level of concern in his eyes, and he was immediately able to see past your mask, and see the pain in yours.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

His soft tone made you tempted to break down and cry on the spot, but you couldn't. You still felt like you weren't allowed to.

"...I got upset about something," you said after a long pause. "I don't even remember what it was to be honest, but they kept on insisting that what I was saying didn't happen..."

You trailed off, pausing for a few seconds before continuing quietly.

"...or that I was overreacting, or that I was being dramatic. It seemed like every other word that came out of my mouth was just getting shut down."

You emotionally withdrew from the situation as a method of protecting yourself. Levi was able to tell that immediately. It was a habit of yours that he had picked up from day one, and he couldn't blame you, as harmful as it was.

"I'm questioning if maybe they're right," you continued. "Maybe I am just seeing things that aren't actually there, feeling things that I have no right to feel-"

"Cut that out," he said sternly, cutting you off.

You immediately stopped talking and looked at him in confusion.

"Are you not hearing yourself?"

He sounded annoyed, but the look of concern in his eyes remained.

"You're allowed to feel how you feel," he said with a frown, as if he was astonished that you were even doubting yourself. "It doesn't matter what the fuck other people say happened or not, how you feel is how you feel and there's no changing that—and they're fucking idiots for trying to tell you otherwise."

You looked away, pondering over what he was trying to say.

"And they're assholes for trying to tell you that you're not allowed to feel a certain way or invalidating what it was that got you upset."

Your cheeks began to heat up as he spoke. As always, every word that came out of Levi's mouth hit you like a truck. The validation from him alone brought up something within you, although you couldn't tell exactly what it was. It made your heart pound and your entire body heat up. It was just the effect he had on you.

"...really wish more people were like you," you whispered.

"Yeah?" he said, glancing down at you.

"Yeah," you affirmed, looking down at the ground again. "Sorry for being a pain in the ass."

He shoved you again.

"Didn't I say to cut that out? Quit pitying yourself."

The pout returned on your face as you slightly stuck your bottom lip out.

"You're valid and allowed to have emotions or get upset over things. I don't give a shit what the rest of your friends say. They can fuck off for all I care."

You quickly found yourself leaning against him with your head resting on his shoulder. This wasn't a new occurrence and it provided you an oddly comforting feeling.

"Thanks for always being there," you mumbled as you shut your eyes.

It was always Levi that was there, no matter how shitty your situation was. If you were a little less distracted, you might have been more willing to explore whatever it was that was going on between the two of you, but neither of you were emotionally aware enough at the moment to do anything about it.

"...my pleasure."

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @belovedackerman @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saenora @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @deepzombieyouth @evas-leslas join my taglist!

[foxedthecards]

"Echoes of the past"

The first time Jonas got drunk he'd just turned eleven years old.

He really didn't remember the specifics of the occasion although with it being close around his birthday, it stood to reason that it was a holiday soiree of some kind with relatives and friends. His mother had gotten the brilliant idea of dressing him up in a little suit and tie and putting him at the wet bar serving drinks for guests. He got many compliments about what a cute little bartender he was and it was relatively low pressure: the drinks were already there for him to give to whoever came up to the counter, all he had to do was give them a big bright fake smile and hand them a glass of wine or champagne or a tumbler with a festive holiday cocktail in it.

It had been going fine until That happened.

" ...ahaha I dunno I don't trus' a bartend'r that won' drink his own drinks! " Some obnoxious older relative, whoever he was: uncle, cousin or what have you, decided to be funny and stuck a glass of dark red wine in Jonas's face. " C'mon boy drink up! "

" Ohhh Will, shushhh, he's a child. I'm so sorry, Bea, let me get him over to the couch..." This had been addressed to Jonas's mother who had just happened to sweep by to check and see if the drinks needed to be replenished.

" Ahhhhh m'fine! I was younger'n him when I had m'firs' drink. Go on boy, it'll make y'taller. Put hair on y'r chest! "

Jonas's mother, with her fixed smile cut her beautiful eyes over at her son being offered the drink.

" Ohhhh Will's right ahaha. A glass or two won't hurt! Go ahead Jonas, baby, drink the nice glass, make him happy..."

Jonas stared at the glass being offered to him. He stared up at his mother. His mouth thinned.

" Jonas..." An edge had crept in her voice though the smile remained. " Did you hear what Mommy said? Take the nice drink and stop being silly. It's just like grape juice, sweetheart! "

Jonas, the sacrificial lamb to his mother's social ambitions reached out, took the glass offered to him and downed it hastily. It tasted sickly sweet in his mouth, like rotten grapes, the alcoholic fumes invading his sinuses. He choked and sputtered a bit but he drank the whole glass.

" Therrrr y'go, boy! Now y'r a prop'r man! " He got a congratulatory slap on the back and an approving smile from his mother.

In the space of another hour, he'd be convinced to try a flute of champagne. Then after that one of the cocktails, all under the subtle persuasion of his domineering mother. He'd not been able to finish the cocktail, the liquor in it burned the back of his throat. His mother had been nearby chatting lightly away to another cluster of relatives as he climbed unsteadily off of his stool behind the counter and stumbled out.

His head felt woozy, his vision had doubled, his arms and legs felt loose and disconnected from the rest of him. The lights were too bright, the festive music sounded as though he had his head underwater. He wasn't exactly sure where he wanted to go, though he had a vague idea of heading out to the patio. He bumped into someone and grabbed onto their fancy dress, trying to keep himself from falling over.

" Oh! " said a surprised older woman's voice. " Oh you're...oh you're Bea's little boy! Goodness. Are you alright? "

He looked up, blinking his brown eyes in tipsy confusion. Then without warning he threw up all over her.

Things became a bit of a blur after that. He somehow ended up in the bathroom with his head in the toliet, puking his guts out and feeling miserable with his mother hissing and sputtering at him, how HOW could he embarrass her like that and all over Great Aunt Dottie's expensive Emporio Armani shoes, honestly, HONESTLY? She'd never live this down! Why hadn't Jonas been thinking about Mommy's feelings for God's sake! She'd never get him in Aunt Dottie's will now, ugh! And he'd absolutely ruined his nice little outfit she dressed him in!

" I-I'm s-sorrRRULP! " He couldn't even get a decent apology out.

" You'll just have to stay in here until the party's done I suppose. Honestly, Jonas! You weren't thinking at ALL. Mommy can't trust you to do anything right, silly boy. Well, I still love you even if you did nearly ruin Mommy's nice party. "

Jonas got a little pat on his head and a long-suffering sigh. " You REALLY shouldn't have tried those drinks, what WERE you thinking? I know you were curious but they're not juice, sweetheart! You should learn to say no, tch..."

Already she was putting her own spin on what had happened, twisting the facts to leave her reputation flawless and her involvement non-existent. In her mind she was not at fault! Oh she NEVER was.

In a bit she'd sauntered out of the bathroom to attempt to smooth things over back at the party, leaving poor Jonas lying down on the bathroom rug, head spinning and severely nauseated, convinced that everything that had happened was in fact his fault and his alone. He really should have been more considerate of his mother...

His first experience with alcohol had been miserable and humiliating. Unfortunately it wouldn't be his last one...

[fable-creation]

Mr fable why is everyone yelling at you and being mean?

I don't know, Rae. I am just trying to help them.

[speyeralling-down-thy-majesty]

*bullies you again*

... Craving attention,do you¿? Pathetic that you'd want to seek it from me,but oh well,let me sit back and enjoy the suffering.