#YOU HAVE BEEN WITH ME FROM THE VERY FIRST LIFE YOU ARE MY FIRST MEMORY EVERY TIME THE SINGLE THREAD IN ALL MY LIVES.

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[moonsuke]

Oh my fucking gosh all these edge lord lines Rin have been spouting were thrown at him by Sae first 😭

It makes me think Rin is constantly living in this trrrraumatic (lol) moment of his brother abandoning him, though it was painful too seeing Sae's expression when his lil brother first dismissed his dreams like that.

But ngl I get hyped seeing scenes like these:

Like yessss BRING BACK THE OG BLUE LOCK ENERGY. It also reminded me of Reo and Nagi lmao. I know most people when seeing scenes like these tend to take "sides" and hate on the ones who "leave" but I'm not one of them lol. Actually, I tend to like the ones who "leaves" 🤡

Anyway, its clearly meant to be sad and I do feel sad for Rin (and Reo) but my point is, this is what the narrative is going for, just enjoy it and don't make it so personal? Just go with the story??

I do feel very sad for Rin when he's sulking on his bed though, like poor baby ;-;

Aww 😭😭😭😭

But his reaction after makes me like him a lot more! As expected of my second fav :')

Especially his "These feelings... That time back then... You can't just pretend like it didn't happen!! Those weren't lies!!" I love how confident he is of his past memories and bond with Sae? It's refreshing? Compared to the typical reaction (that annoys me) of them completely forgetting the past and focusing too much on the present and hurt they feel? I mean he's still basing his future actions and entire personality off this event, but I just really like that he didn't just entirely dismiss and doubt their bond like that. Says a lot about their bond actually, or rather Rin's feelings towards it.

Also, I can see knsr is recycling tropes here 🤡 and loves making the ones who got abandoned react very intensely lol. He mentioned before he likes seeing characters in such downward spirals right? And he likes writing them in an over the top, over-dramatic manner?

I get Rin's logic of spiral though, he's dedicated his entire childhood to soccer because of his "dream" of being the best with his brother. He really gave his everything to it 😭 but it was all trampled upon by Sae, so I can see how this is equivalent to his life being ruined. It's always cool to see characters being so dedicated and single-minded to their goal (because I can never be like that).

So I'm guessing for the Sae and Rin plot, for Rin to crush Sae's "dream", Sae has to want to be a striker again? I would like some "role reversal" where Rin gets to be the midfielder for Sae's striker sometimes, or they take turns. Actually I would love this for ReoNagi too, where Reo wants to be the striker himself, and Nagi supports (and learns some playmaking skills finally) but we'll see... I still have so much of the manga to go 😭

It was very bizarre to see Rin (and Sae) being "normal" as kids, but that's typical right? Their story seems like a typical brotherhood turned enemies slash rivals trope? I've seen many compared them to Itachi and Sasuke but please, they'll never? I like Rin, he's my second fav after Nagi but he'll never be Sasuke no matter how many superficial similarities and tropes they share (Revenger, edgy, brother complex). I'm sorry but Rin lacks the flair that Sasuke has, which I suspect comes from how much the mangaka likes him. You can always tell there's something "extra" to a character because the creator likes them or vibes with them, almost like meta "star quality" lmao. This is why I like Sasuke and Nagi :)

Rin sadly, don't seem to receive that love.

Also I love their current dynamics lmao. Rin being the one to approach Sae first with the sibling rivary, Sae being cold but also getting caught up in it, calling each other shitty older brother and pain in the ass younger brother because their blood still ties them and they acknowledge that despite being so outwardly cold and stoic awwww :')

[jaal-ama-daravv]

Apologies if you have discussed this before and I just missed it, but how do you feel about an unromanced Emmrich ending up with Strife?

I haven’t experienced that world state, so I don’t know much about it, but I am speculating about the intensity of their relationship. Is it another casual thing that Emmrich is no stranger to, or is Strife the love of his life…the love he’s been waiting for.

Are there any hints about Emmrich’s struggles with mortality or lichdom with Strife?

I’m very curious about it and can’t help but feel it takes away from the relationship with Rook a little. I feel like it fits Emmrich’s character more to be one of the companions who doesn’t end up with anyone if he doesn’t get with Rook.

Thoughts?

I've experienced it on my Lucanis playthrough and I don't get the feeling that Strife is the love of his life like Rook would be. It comes accross more casual and comfortable. I don't see Emmrich having those arguments with Strife about death and being scared. And I'm not saying that because they are similar in age, I actually don't think age plays a role here there if it was between Strife x Emmrich. I think an argument like that just wouldn't ocurr because the connection wasn't that deep.

It's implied in the cutscenes that Emmrich courted Strife with a knife gift, chose a date spot at the waterfall, and they boned. It continues as a relationship but I don't see nor feel it being that deep. It just feels like comfort for Emmrich in a trying time. Keep in mind he does tell us during our date in the Memorial Gardens that he hasnt seen 'anyone serious' in several years, but its inferred he still has flings. It can be interpretted as either way, but regardless Emmrich is still capable of flings. Regardless if it's not what he truly desires.

Additionally, I don't see it as the love of his life connection because Emmrich doesn't take Strife to see his parents, or the date in the Memorial Gardens. Instead Emmrich takes him on a date to a place that Strife is comfortable in, not Emmrich. Emmrich's vulnerable in the Memorial Gardens, his favourite place in Thedas.

I doubt Emmrich asked Strife what he thinks his parents would think is best for him in terms of romance and life.

I do agree, where I feel like it fits his character more to end up alone if he didn't romance Rook considering his personal quests have two majorly different implications. I was just glad to find out that Emmrich didn't end up with Bellara. Like, I know there's nothing 'technically' wrong with it. But the thought just rubs me the wrong way. My entire first playthrough, I was like, I'm gonna blow up if I hear one flirt dialogue between them. But I was glad that the devs didnt even consider that and their entire 16minutes of dialogue banter is literally just nerds geeking out over magic.

[mirellapryce]

George mentioned Shrek in one of his cameos, and then "Hallelujah" by Rufus Wainwright came on my music today so here we fuckin' go! You cannot tell me that a boy with as many trophies as Charles has was not forced to learn piano. On top of that I have decided that our little punk rocker probably learned the Leonard Cohen version of "Hallelujah".

Now to incorporate Jayden's vision of Greek Gods. As one of the gods of music, I envision Apollo challenging the boys to play him a song (just to bring this full circle back to Orpheus and Eurydice, please know I'm thinking of Hadestown when Hades tells Orpheus to sing for him). Edwin is panicking 'cause he doesn't know how, and while Charles enjoys music, he's never shown any sign of knowing how to PLAY. Then Charles, cool as you please just steps up to the piano in the room and plays a very basic scale.

Apollo sarcastically remarks that that's hardly impressive and Charles tells him to give him a minute. It's BEEN 30 years. It's not perfect, but "Hallelujah" was the first song he learned for himself. He practiced it at school til the sun went down for months. He had dreams of joining a band and escaping his life, and they all centred around this song. Now it's a faded memory but he remembers enough to stumble through.

But all I ever learned from love, was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.

[peach-top]

❝𝙑𝙄𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉❞

➤ ACT I. | CHAPTER II.

➤ WHITE LILY COOKIE.

“I see…That's what it’s like. The tree sealed away the first soul jam holders…” [Y] muttered after reading the books. “...Corrupted…Seems very familiar…”

“...” Elder Faerie flinched. “Is he picking up on the memories?”

“How sad…I feel sorry for them…” the taller male mumbled before closing the book and putting it back in place. Elder Faerie asked, “Are you done with what you're looking for?”

“Yes, but there's still a lot I would like to know. However, I'll save that for later.” [Y] answered. The elder faerie nodded, “Follow me. There's so much you must see here at the Faerie Kingdom.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Before [Y] was being guided around the kingdom, he was given new clothing that matched the Faerie Kingdom.

“There's so many white lilies here at the Faerie Kingdom…” [Y] mumbled upon spotting the white lilies. He could hear the faerie cookies singing about a certain cookie who helped seal the tree. The white lilies represent that cookie for their heroic act.

“Ah. I think I understand…” [Y] whispered. Elder Faerie nodded, “We are still awaiting her to be awoken.”

“Awoken? Whatever happened to her?” The taller male questioned.

“Have you heard of Dark Enchantress Cookie?”

“...Hm. I think I may have heard of her. Just never seen her in person.”

The elder faerie gestures to the male to follow him to the garden. Upon arriving at the garden, there was a glass coffin with a white haired female lying there in eternal sleep. [Y] could sense that this female is only a half.

“Half soul…?” [Y] questioned.

“I see that you catch on. Indeed, this is the half soul of White Lily Cookie. As I mentioned about Dark Enchantress Cookie before. She's the other half of White Lily Cookie.” Elder Faerie explained. “Allow me to explain the tale behind this.”

[Y] listening in on the tale about White Lily Cookie arriving at the Witch's Banquet to witness the truth on why cookies were made. This is like the first time [Y] heard about the witches. It's indeed such a tragic tale for White Lily Cookie.

“I see…She was newly baked as Dark Enchantress Cookie. They're only half…” [Y] mumbled.

“Good to know that you understood the tale behind the savior of the Faerie Kingdom. It's hard to bear…” Elder Faerie frowned.

“I wish I could try to wake her up, but something seems to be missing…” [Y] hummed. He then perked up, “Ah.”

The taller male reveals his life stone and holds his hands out at White Lily. Elder Faerie looks at him confused, “What are you doing?”

“Waking her up.” [Y] responded.

Elder Faerie gasped, “Pardon me? You're willing to sacrifice your life to…wake her?”

“You wanted her back, right? I've been practicing this sort of magic for a long time and it's now my chance to finally test this spell on a human being.” the taller male stated. [Y] then mutter ancient languages. Elder Faerie watched in shock as a large circle surrounded the coffin. He covered his eyes, blocking the light from his view.

The elder faerie thought as the light faded away.

“It should work…” [Y] mumbled.

“...!?”

It only lasted a few minutes until White Lily finally opened her eyes. Surprised by her awoken, she jolted up, only to accidentally hit her head on the glass lid, catching both [Y] and Elder Faerie off guard.

“Ow…” White Lily whined, rubbing her sore head.

“White Lily Cookie?” Elder Faerie gasped as he rushed to the female's aid. He opened the coffin and checked on the female, “Are you alright?”

“...?” White Lily hummed in question. She looks up to meet the concerned eyes of Elder Faerie. “Huh? What? How? How am I here?”

“Ah. It works…” [Y] blinked owlishly, shocked to know that his spell actually worked. White Lily tilted her head, “What works? W…who are you?”

“Oh, I'm [Y]. The one who awoke you from your slumber. Sorry for the sudden awakening.” The taller male apologized. “I used my life stone to wake you.”

“L…life stone?” White Lily gasped. “Why did I wake up? I don't deserve to be here after what I've done. Just leave me be…”

“White Lily Cookie. The faerie at the kingdom are awaiting for your awakening. There's no need to blame yourself for what you have done.” Elder Faerie frowned as he helped the female out of the coffin. “People make mistakes. Even if it cannot be undone, there's still a chance to redeem yourself.”

“...That's something I cannot believe…” White Lily frowned. The taller male spoke, “He's right. We all make mistakes. The faerie here at the faerie looks up to you for your heroic act in sealing the tree.”

“Mistake or not, you are still forgiven for the action you caused. Which is why I have used my spell on you. To give you a second chance, not suffer.”

“...You…How are you doing this? Don't tell me you sacrificed your life for me…” White Lily Cookie frowned.

“I'm still alive and well. Don't worry about me. You're here now.” [Y] said.

“...”

“By the way, you're White Lily Cookie, right?” [Y] asked. “Dark Cacao told me about you. It's nice to meet you. I'm [Y]...”

“[Y]...? I don't think I've seen you before…” White Lily mumbled. Elder Faerie spoke, “He's…new here. Millennial Tree's former guardian of the forest.”

The taller male continues, “I'm on a quest. A quest to find myself. Trying to figure out who I truly want to be…I’m exploring around Earthbread to learn more about it. I'm curious what it is like to live outside of the forest.”

“...” White Lily frowned. Looking at this male remains her of herself when she's curious about the truth that led to her tragedy. What if [Y] suffers a similar fate as her?

“You are quite a curious one.” Elder Faerie mumbled.

“Having to live in the forest for hundreds of years, it's normal to be curious about the world.” [Y] stated. “The faerie seems to live longer than any cookies, even longer than Millennial Tree.”

The elder faerie nodded, “That's true. However, the previous soul jam holders lived before I was even baked to protect the tree.”

[Y] turned to White Lily Cookie, “White Lily Cookie, since you're here. You don't mind joining us for a tour? If not, maybe you should take a rest.”

“...I…I just need some time to calm my thoughts a bit…” White Lily responded.

“We'll leave you be. You do have a lot to catch up after all. It's important to relax.” [Y] stated. “Elder Faerie will help me take a tour around the kingdom.”

“...”

“...He looks familiar…Have I seen him before?” White Lily thought to herself.

➤ chapter i.

➤ chapter iii.

[sparrowrye]

Archivist's Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 2

Synopsis: Things aren’t so boring with Al trapped in the bunker with us…

Master List

Chapter 2: familiar and friendly

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor revealed as little as possible about himself and, to his amazement, so did you. For someone who had spent their entire life with the same two people--mother and grandmother whom you spoke of often--and now lived entirely alone, you were deceptively untalkative. He would have found it strange had it not been for the translation he found under one of the chairs a few nights ago.

You were an Archivist. Breaking you was not going to be easy.

He carefully broached the topic of Humanity but you were clever enough to turn it around, expressing a strong curiosity for how he viewed Humanity, which he was very much not inclined to share. So, he started asking you about your chores. You were certainly talkative about those.

Despite having been through worse, Alastor felt this experience topped them all.

For the first day, he could barely sit up on his own. He slipped in and out of sleep, his temperature went up and down, and everything felt uncomfortable. You forced him into a sitting position while you completed chores outside, occasionally slipping in to gently shake him awake. He wasn't allowed sleep until your chores were done and you were back in the bunker to watch over him. Admirable but oh so annoying.

The second and third day weren't much better and he was practically losing his mind. He could handle pain. He could handle discomfort. He could handle having to consciously breathe. What he couldn't handle was the absolute boredom.

Fortunately, you had a few puzzles and a crank radio to help him occupy this dreary life. He used the radio to play with the frequencies, hoping to reach someone. He could tune into the frequencies his team used to communicate but, without his staff, his words would fall in the depths of white noise.

He was confident the White Angels had taken his staff, and that would likely come back to bite him in the ass one day. It certainly would when he returned to Pentagram City.

Sleep brought little relief. His moments of sleep were shallow and short, often interrupted by a pain in his chest, shoulder, hip--everywhere. Then he would slip back into exhaustion only to be woken up by the same issues. It wasn't until the fifth day that he was finally able to fall into a deep sleep. And he hated it.

~*~

I scribbled in one of my journals at the coffee table with a blanket draped over my shoulders. Al was asleep on the couch, both hands clasped over his stomach and his ankles resting over the armchair of the couch. He looked so incredibly long whenever he laid flat like that.

It amazed me how much of him was made up of legs and long arms. His torso was all lean muscle and fur, speaking of an agile life and maybe one where food was scarce from the look of his waist and stomach.

I dragged my eyes back to my journal. I wanted to sketch him. Committing him to memory wasn't enough. I wanted a picture of him to hold onto forever, even after he left my bunker. The thought made my heart sink.

His ear twitched against the pillow. Then his arm. Then his leg. His breath quickened and his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together as his limbs continued to twitch and jerk. He was having a nightmare.

"Al," I whispered, setting my journal down and creeping closer. I sat on the edge of the coffee table. I tried calling his name a few more times but when that did nothing, I leaned forward to touch his shoulder.

I barely grazed the brown fur before his eyes snapped open and his hands snagged my shoulders. The buzz of magic touched my spine as his lips pulled back in a snarl, exposing his sharp canines.

I pushed against his chest but he didn't let go. His eyes were wide and wild. He wasn't registering me.

I tried to drop to one knee but he followed. He arched off the pillows and dug his long nails into my shoulders, an animalistic, high-pierced shriek escaping his throat.

My hand on his chest curled into a fist and slammed upward into his chin, abruptly clamping his jaw shut. He reared back with a cry and I pushed him back onto the couch, tripping over his foot as I scrambled away.

I crawled back on my elbows as he shook his head, eyes returning to their normal state--something more human. He covered his mouth with one hand while the other gripped the back of the couch. He was trying to sit up by the pain from his chest injury was finally reaching him. He looked around then found me on the floor, my eyes wild with fear.

"It's...you," he croaked around the blood in his mouth. He looked around again before the pain rendered him useless and dropped him on the cushions. His eyes looked for me over the edge of the coffee table. "I didn't mean to--"

"I know," I said quickly, pushing myself to a sitting position. His partly pinned ears and sorrowful expression conveyed what he wanted to say.

I rolled to my knees and reached into a floor cabinet for the first aid kit. I approached him carefully, as if he would jump at me again. I sat on the edge of the coffee table as I pointed to his chest where blood seeped through the shirt. I had found the piece of clothing from a closet buried deep in the bedroom.

His jaw clenched, both in an attempt to swallow the blood from his bitten tongue and from the shame of attacking his one and only savior. Then he glanced away, unsure how to act next for the first time in his life.

"It wasn't you fault," I coaxed gently, moving to sit on the edge of the couch in effort to show I wasn't afraid anymore. He still didn't return my gaze. "Let me fix you."

Eventually, he relented and moved his hands off his chest. I grabbed the hem of his shirt but noticed the way his entire body went rigid and he drew in a sharp intake of breath. His ears fell further and the look on his face was...complex. I stopped and his shoulders relaxed a fraction.

Screw it. The shirt is done for anyways.

I grabbed the scissors from the kit and cut a straight line up the center of the clothing. He didn't tense this time but his eyes watched the scissors carefully. Not once did he look me in the eye as I cut through the soiled bindings to reveal the torn stitches. I was amazed at the stillness in my hands, even as adrenaline continued to pulse through my veins.

"Well, could be worse," I said on account of nothing else. "But maybe try not to levitate off the couch anymore."

He swallowed a mouthful of blood. "Noted," he muttered, a shadow of his usual humor slowly showing through. He kept his eyes evaded as I redid most of my work, cleaning the wound and restitching it in the lantern light.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I offered in the silence.

His face twitched when I pulled a stitch a little too tight. "No."

I was quiet for a few minutes, until the tense silence was a little too tense for the delicate work I was trying to complete. "Do you always bottle everything up?"

"Yes."

I sighed at the one worded answer. "Was it a memory?"

He glanced at me but when I tried to meet his gaze he looked away. Another short answer, "Somewhat."

"It's not like I have anyone to tell," I encouraged gently, eyes back on my work. "I wouldn't mind listening."

He grimaced at another prick of his skin. "What are you expecting from me? To unleash my demons onto you?"

"Well you did already," I said offhandedly.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" The gentleness of his tone, compared to the sharpness of his previous words, made me pause. I looked up. This time he was actually watching me. His eyes were intense but not unkind as they surveyed my figure.

"No," I said after a moment's hesitation. "Just...scared me a little."

"I didn't mean to attack you. I shouldn't have--"

"I know," I interrupted just as I had done before. "Fear makes us do crazy things. Blame it on the nightmare."

I finished my work then threaded the bindings around his torso like before. My hands began to sweat as I leaned closer to him so my arms could wrap under and around his back. His breath brushed my forehead, adding to the warmth already in my cheeks. It took everything in me to keep my eyes forward and focused on nothing in particular.

Thank heavens he's covered in fur.

I finished his wrappings, putting distance between us, then gathered all the remnants of the mini procedure. I stood but was stopped by a hand on my arm. I met his gaze and those beady red eyes pushed through my shields like they were nothing.

"Thank you," he said softly.

I gave him a small smile. "Try to sleep again. I'll sit at the coffee table for a while longer." For a moment, neither one of us moved. His eyes were like rubies glowing in the lantern light and I wanted so desperately to get lost in them. But alas, he peeled his fingers off my arm and watched me put everything away.

~*~

Death by boredom is a torturous fate, Alastor thought to himself.

He entertained a game of cards despite being unable to read them well without his monocle. It was a strategy card game and he was quite pleased to see your high level of thinking. He didn't think someone who copied books for a living would have good strategy skills.

Speaking of which, his eyes scanned the bunker once again in search of a clue or hidden door.

You were an Archivist, a rare and dying breed of historians. Long ago, during the Great Downfall, Humanity had built bunkers with hundreds of books stored away. A small collection of people were sealed inside with it, surviving for generations to keep the books safe.

As time went on and resources went thin, some of them resurfaced. When news got around that Old World books and technology might exist, they were hunted down all over the land. Some took the books for themselves, yet unable to read the ancient handwriting, while others burned the knowledge to erase a dark period of history.

You were one of the last surviving Archivists. But where was your library?

~*~

"You're stalling," Al said, his usual smirk growing the longer I took to make my next move. A card game was sprawled across the coffee table, as was an abandoned plate of apples.

I was on my knees at the table, eyes jumping between the board and the stack in my hand. My fingers had been jumping from one card to the other in an effort to look like I wasn't stuck on what to do next. Clearly, it didn't work.

"I'm strategizing," I replied. I didn't dare look up at that knowing smile I had grown accustomed to seeing. "Not that you'd understand Mr. play-the-first-move-that-comes-to-mind." I finally picked a card and put it down. We had taught each other different card games and this was the one I could never beat him in--even by a single stroke of luck!

Al hummed in place of a chuckle so as not to hurt his chest. "It's not my fault you can't predict brilliance." He picked out a card and tossed it onto the table, using magic to righten it in place. Such a show of magic wasn't uncommon for me to see. After all, I had some as well.

"Seems more like dumb luck if you ask me," I retorted as I scanned my cards again.

"I wasn't asking."

I let out a huff of annoyance. He rested his cards in his lap, completely unbothered or worried about the game. I tried to watch his eyes like before but he had caught onto my trick, fixating his eyes on me whenever he finished his play so he couldn't give any hints away. So, with another huff, I slapped a card down and feigned confidence. "How's that Mr. Walking-Ego?"

His red tipped fingers tapped his cheek a few times. "Not bad. However..." He withdrew two cards and floated them to their rightful place. I dropped my cards face down with a groan, smacking my forehead on the table.

"Come on," I whined, lifting my chin to look at him.

"Don't hate the player. Hate your lack of foresight." He reorganized his cards then settled them in his lap. Even with a gash in his chest he was still able to sit in a way that could only be described as elegant.

"You're insufferable," I grumbled. I lifted my cards to see if there was any hope of turning things around.

"And yet you keep playing me."

"For selfless reasons." I leaned back and put my hand on my chest dramatically. "Clearly my card games are not entertaining enough for you and so I suffer for your sake to keep you from dying of boredom."

He raised an eyebrow, smile widening. "How generous. But I will admit, I do enjoy it when we play this game. Not only am I slightly less bored, but I can also watch you suffer at my hand."

I scrunched my nose at him. "One, that's concerning. Two, you've really got this ego and self-confidence thing down, don't you?" I placed a card on the board.

He shrugged with his good shoulder. "Call it a gift, my dear. Though," there was a mischievous glint in his eye, "if you're jealous, I can teach you a thing or two." He put two cards down.

"No thanks. You're not exactly someone I want to take after." I put two down.

"What's there not to enjoy?" he returned the jibe. "You seem to enjoy my company quite a bit." He placed his last card down. He had won.

I dropped my cards face up on the table then leveled him with a half-hearted glare. "Until your ego shines through." I rolled backwards and sprawled out flat on my back. He mimicked me, carefully positioning himself on the couch and staring up at the ceiling.

"I am truly amazed you have survived this long. The boredom would've--"

"Would've killed you," I finished for him. "With so many chores to do after my mother passed, I haven't really had a chance to be bored." I turned my head to look at his bright red hair contrasting the dark, brown couch. "What was your mother like?"

A soft smile spread across his face. "Where do I even start? She was as kind as my father was cruel. She showed me the world and quickly became my world."

There was a heavy air of silence.

With as gentle of a voice as I could make, I asked, "Has she passed?"

"I'm afraid so," he admitted. "But her spirit lives on inside me."

"I've been meaning to ask, where did you learn to speak like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like...you speak very formally. Eat," I added, sitting up and moving the plate of apples on top of the card game. His ear flicked in annoyance but he used magic to drop a slice into his palm.

"I could say the same about you."

"Really?" I eagerly leaned on the coffee table, chin on my hands.

"Of course," he nodded. "You may use basic terminology but your speech is eloquent, intelligent even." After a moment he said, "And I find it quite refreshing."

I felt my cheeks warm as I smiled. "Oh...well, thank you. But you didn't answer my question."

"Which was?"

"Where did you learn to speak like that?"

His eyes pretended to scan the ceiling in representation of his mind. "I suppose you can credit it to the amount of books I read as a child. When I wasn't with my mother or taking lessons, I was in the library."

"A library?" I picked my head up.

"Indeed, my dear. My city has a communal library and I was eager to devour their words."

"What kind of books?"

"Some novels, some textbooks, and maybe two or three from the Old World." His eyes scanned my face for a reaction but I hadn't noticed, too wrapped up in his words. "I could never read them," he chuckled at himself, "but I enjoyed holding them. As if I were holding a piece of history."

I suddenly became aware of my display of interest. I collected myself and responded in a more subdued tone, "That's pretty neat."

Had I not been messing with my fingernails, I would have noticed the sharp glint in his eye. It dulled a moment later as he changed the subject, "What of your father?"

"I never met him."

"Ah, that's unfortunate."

"Yeah. But my mother says she chose carefully that night and I should still be proud of who I am."

The answer scratched his brain in a funny way. He rested his hoof on his knee. "How did she meet your father? Did he stumble upon your bunker like I did?"

I shifted uncomfortably and tried to force myself into a relaxed position at the table. "She uh...she went...she went out to find him."

There were several heartbeats of silence. He noted my tone and posture. "I take it there is an implication?"

I breathed out through my nose. "Yeah...she uh...it's a family tradition to uh...find a suitable person to...father the child. Then...come back to give birth alone." A spot on the coffee table was suddenly the most interesting thing I'd ever seen.

"That's rather...unfortunate." He examined his claws as his mind pieced things together.

After a minute of awkward silence, I lightly slapped the table and stood up. "You could use some fresh air and a bath."

"Is that an insult I'm sensing?" he teased.

"If you take it as one." I opened one of the floor cabinets to pull out a few towels and a bar of soap in a cloth bag. There were still three more and I hadn't even used half this bar yet. The oils and roots had been perfectly blended by my mother before she passed. "But eat first."

After I successfully forced him to eat the apple slices, we made his first trek out of the bunker. We stood in the center of the alcove for several moments to let our eyes adjust to the bright afternoon light, even with the brambles overhead.

Al accepted my help as we climbed the hidden footholds to the surface. Once he was up, he allowed me to tie a ribbon to his eyes, never once making a complaint about it. I carefully touched his hands and let them curl around my hand. His grip was strong yet kind, and the muscles under his skin and fur felt firm. The feeling made my heart skip and a beat.

"Shall we be going?" he prompted. I stuttered an apology then started walking, telling him when an obstacle required him to pick up his feet. He easily stood a head taller than me and his arms and legs were ridiculously long. A single step of his required nearly three of mine.

The White Angels had long disappeared from the abandoned city, meaning I didn't have to worry too much about any unwanted visitors. So I brought him to a small river that eventually lead into a larger one which marked the end of my land. We were up on a hill which gave me a birds eye view of the land beyond my borders.

I kept my back to Al while he undressed and splashed the cold water over himself. I could hear his grumbles about the temperature and kept my giggles to myself.

My eyes scanned the treetops for any signs. I couldn't see their white feathers nor a smoke signal from their campfires. Had they left this oasis? Had they explored further? Were they being discreet on purpose? Were they waiting for him to come out? If they couldn't find a body than that meant he was still out there. Had they given up or were they pursing to a degree I wasn't expecting?

"My dear," Al called quietly. I turned my head just enough to show that I had heard him but still gave him privacy. "I'm afraid...I may need your assistance."

"Oh that's terrible!" I put the back of my hand to my forehead. "Whatever shall you do?"

"Quit your antics," he snapped. "I can't reach my hair. I would prefer to leave it be but my scalp feels like there's things crawling in it."

I laughed. I definitely knew that feeling. "Of course. Mind if I turn around now?"

"You may."

I turned around and forced my eyes to latch onto his, ignoring the way his fur dripped and stuck to his chest, as well as everything lower than that. Fortunately, he had a towel over his lap.

He held the bar of soap and I took it, feeling the burn of his palm on my knuckles. I helped him onto his back with his head on the edge of the grass like my mother used to do for me. I splashed water onto his hair and used my other hand to keep it from falling into his eyes.

He kept a hand on his chest as he breathed, a habit he had developed since I stitched him up a second time. I suds the soap in the water then gently scrubbed at his hair.

Why is my heart racing?

Several times I had to wipe the back of my hand on my cheeks so the cold water would cool the blush. It didn't help that he was obviously staring at me. I leaned back at one point to figure out where he was looking and was surprised to find them locked on my eyes, not my breasts. He made some kind of funny comment but I didn't respond, going back to rinsing out the soap.

It was more difficult to wash around his broken antlers. Hair tangled around the bone and it wasn't soaked enough for the soap to actually be useful. He tensed when I reached his ears. I was gentle as I rubbed the tufts between my fingers, amazed at the muscles I could feel under the black and red fur. Every time I let go of an ear, it flicked.

I felt less embarrassed about the whole ordeal when I noticed his eyes were closed. Was he enjoying this?

What would my mother think?

I squeezed out the water in his hair then helped him sit up. I told him to get dressed then quickly went back to my lookout spot, crossing my arms and digging my nails into my arm.

Al would need to leave as soon as he could. But...what about before that? My mother had picked my father because he was intellectually smart and known for getting out of difficult situations. He likely had good genes and I was the product of that. Al...he was smart, funny, and careful with his words. There was plenty he wasn't telling me that I didn't want--didn't need--to know.

I covered my mouth.

My mother had had plenty of conversations with my brother and I about continuing our legacy. He had been the lucky one because she spent more one on one time with me explaining pregnancy and birth, two things that sounded absolutely dreadful to handle alone. I hadn't even considered it since she died. It was supposed to be a process that involved at least one other person to help. It was supposed to be her but then--

"Are we ready?" Al asked. I turned to find him dressed in more unfamiliar male clothes from storage, a towel draped around his neck to keep his damp hair from soaking the new shirt.

With my mood promptly soured, I tied the ribbon over his eyes and led him back through the trees. I held his wrist this time, opting to avoid his warm hand. He was quiet during the walk, not even daring to give a tease. He was likely reading into my subtle cues. It was both a blessing and a curse that made things even more upsetting and complicated.

Once inside the bunker, he promptly fell asleep on the couch, completely spent. I crept into the bedroom and dropped my head in my hands, fingers pulling at my hair.

I didn't want to be the one making the adult decisions. I didn't want to make any decision with consulting my mother. It had taken me a full year just to drag myself out of my grief to fly to the nearest community for supplies.

She was supposed to be here to guide me.

But she wasn't.

I grabbed the quilt my grandmother patched up and curled up on the floor so I could keep Al in view. I let a few tears fall then did what I always did when I was grieving: sleep.

~*~

Alastor waited another two days before attempting anything.

He had noticed your sudden mood change and wondered if he had done anything particularly wrong or if it was something more internal. He was quiet the following day before attempting jibes, teases, and innocent questions the next. He was relieved when you gradually came out of that quiet--almost depressive--shell you had put yourself in. You were back to your normal self by the third day.

How long had it been since he arrived? A week?

One late morning, after you both had breakfast and another game of fuzzy cards, Alastor feigned exhaustion. He laid down and pretended to sleep, keeping his body still and his breathing as even as possible. He had hoped you would unlock whatever secret door that lead to your library but you instead left the dark bunker to finish more chores. He waited a few minutes before standing up.

He ran his hands along the walls of the bunker, waiting for his claws to catch some kind of latch, lever, or dip in the metal. He was running out of time.

He gave the bunker one more look over before giving up and laying on the couch. Maybe you were a division of the Archivists? Or maybe you just happened to know the Old Language and found Old World texts to practice on?

That wouldn't explain the tradition of your mother going out to get pregnant and not invite the father back to the bunker. You often spoke of your mother and grandmother, so maybe this was a female Archivist group? That still didn't explain your lack of Old World books.

He put himself to sleep this time. The frustration was making his chest hurt as much as his head.

~*~

I stoked the logs in the stone fireplace in the center of my alcove. The sun was setting but there was still enough daylight left to finish cooking dinner. When using the dinner fire, I had to be mindful of time so the smoke from the fire didn't turn into a fire signal at night, though the brambles and trees helped keep that from happening.

I set a pot to boil on the stones then went back inside to dice everything up. Al was laying on the couch, hands resting on his stomach but playing with a piece of yarn he'd found in between the cushions. It must've been from when grandmother used to sew our clothes on the couch.

I washed my hands in the sink then quickly rinsed the vegetables. I turned to dice them on the counter but nearly jumped out of my skin when Al suddenly appeared in front of me. I lost a few carrots and scrambled to pick them up.

"My apologies, dear," he suppressed a laugh, "I hadn't meant to scare you." He picked up two carrots by his magic then placed them on the counter with the rest. "Might I help?"

"I-It's okay, I can handle it." I reached for the knife but he placed a hand on the handle of the blade. Our eyes met.

"I fear boredom will kill me first before my chest does," he pleaded. I tried to answer but my eyes were too busy trailing up the length of his arm and up to his ear that twitched slightly when he caught me looking at it.

He picked up the knife and reached for one of the vegetables, and I stepped aside to let him stand closer to the counter. He held my gaze for a little longer, that smug smile making my cheeks flush, then finally looked down at his work. His movements were slow but not inexperienced--telling the tale of someone who had some amount of practice.

"You've done this before?" I asked.

Without looking up, he replied, "Do I appear as the type to have a maid?"

"N-no, I just...I was...no," I finished more firmly, then held my sweaty hands behind my back.

His smile widened a touch. "My mother taught me. She was adamant that I know how to feed myself. Even if it went against my father's wishes."

I nodded silently, watching from my corner spot between the counter and the sink. My eyes roamed his figure from hooves to antlers. A smile cracked on my lips at the sight of his red tail. He had snapped at me last time I mentioned it, so I never said anything about it after that—clearly a sensitive topic for him. Part of me wanted to touch it but that just might kill him.

He had healed surprisingly fast for someone who had as severe a chest injury as he did. Though there were a few times I could feel him using magic and guessed he was trying to heal himself. It always made the hairs on my arms stick up and sent a fuzzy feeling down my spine. I wasn't well versed in my small amount of magic but I could tell he had a lot of it.

His red eye glanced at me. My breath caught in my throat and I ushered myself out of the bunker to check on the pot. I dropped in the chicken meat then crossed my legs, chin in hand. I poked the fire with a stick as my mind started to wonder.

My mother had told me I needed to find someone to father my child before I reached twenty-six, the age where childbirth became complicated. I had three years left and I was already scared about giving birth alone.

There was the option of finding another Archivist for help but I didn't know where to even begin looking for one. We all kept our bunker locations a secret, even from each other to keep the archives more secure.

Another option was to give birth in a community. I wasn't sure if I would even have the right materials to trade for such a service, unless another woman gave pity on me.

Or...

Our legacy would die with me and the books would need to be burned before my passing.

I fell on my back and stared up at the bramble. During my teenage years, I had dreamt all the time about going on my own adventure; I dreamt of traveling the world and speaking to hundreds of people; I dreamt of sharing knowledge to help Humanity rebuild itself to its glory days, and this time it wouldn't fall.

However, once my grandmother died and my brother was no longer with us, those dreams promptly died. Life grew rather dull as I worked beside my grieving mother. She was lost without my grandmother and the dreams in her died too. There were a few times when we forgot about our grim destiny, and were able to enjoy a fun filled day in the woods. But every night, the cold bunker reminded us of our job.

There was a strong part of me that was curious to know more about Humanity's past through my translations—I wanted to know more and piece history together. The other part, however, wanted to give up and burn the books with me inside. Surely the afterlife would bring more relief; if only I could die without the guilt it brought.

I had three years left to continue my legacy. Did I want Al to be the father or risk searching for another one? He fit all the criteria. Was I ready to do such a thing?

Most books made it sound like a chore to complete, meanwhile others—novels I had first practiced my translations on as a kid—made it sound like something intimate and sweet. Did he know how any of it worked? Surely he did if he came from the outside world.

Speaking of whom, the man brushed through the vines to the bunker carrying a cutting board of diced vegetables. I accepted the board then brushed them into the pot.

He sat across from me with his back against the wall as I placed the lid over the ancient pot. I started playing with the fire again to give my eyes something to do other than stare at him. Though that didn't stop me from trying.

"Is there something you wish to say?" he prompted, drawing his eyes from the fire to look at me.

"What?" I stiffened. "No. Why?"

"You've looked at me thrice in the past minute." His smile turned smug as my eyes widened.

"No. I'm just...bored."

"You're bored?" he teased. "Great heavens, I knew it was possible."

I scrunched my nose in response. I went back to the fire, lighting my stick under the hot logs then blowing it out, only to do it all over again. My brother and I used to come up with secret games before our mother snapped at us not to play with the fire.

Eventually my neck hurt—and he caught me staring a few times—so I abandoned the stick in the fire and sprawled onto my back. I ran my fingers over the mossy carpet and took a slow, deep breath. My mind wouldn't turn off. And it made his presence even more apparent the more I thought things over.

"Why do you stay here?"

The question caught me off guard. I turned my head to look at him, finding his eyes downcast at his hands.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean what I said. Why do you stay here?"

I was silent for a long moment. "Because it's home?"

"You could have a far more interesting life." This time he met my gaze. "You could be around people. You wouldn't be cooped up in an old bunker. You wouldn't have to ration your own food and craft everything you need. Yet you stay here...alone."

I gave a light scoff. "And go where?"

"Anywhere." With you.

I looked up at the brambles. "I wouldn't know how to survive or how to even start a life out there. Down here, I know what to do." It wasn't a genuine answer but it was the closest I could get to the truth without revealing it.

"I could help." One of his ears quirked sideways in a way that only happened when he was awkward or uncomfortable. "It's not nearly as hard as you may think."

I rolled over on my stomach. "Sounds like you're trying to convince me to run away."

His smile turned less awkward. "Maybe I am."

I smiled softly, then glanced at the moss. I rubbed my fingers across the earthy carpet, my mind spinning in all different directions. Then, without thinking, I asked, "What if you stayed?"

He seemed surprised. "I suppose...that's an option. Even if it isincredibly boring here."

"My apologies," I mocked, "I didn't realize I was so boring to you."

His chuckle was deep and I suddenly didn't want him to stop. "Now now, I didn't say you were boring, did I?"

"No," I answered, flipping over on my back again, "Just the way I've lived for the past twenty-two years. And mind you that you're the one who barged into my home uninvited." An air of silence hung between us and I feared I had insulted him.

I didn't hear him move.

One moment he was sitting against the stone wall and the next he was leaning over me, one hand on the other side to keep him propped up. His red eyes glowed in the dim shade his hair had created, curtaining down the side of his face in an unruly—but attractive—way.

My breath grew shallow. "What?"

I flinched when his fingers brushed my cheek. "You've spent so much of your life hiding away," his voice was as gentle as the thumb rubbing the top of my cheek, "Building walls and strapping spears on them so no one could get close." His fingers crossed over my eyes to brush aside a loose strand of hair. "Would you ever allow anyone to get close?"

My hands fisted my shirt as I shook my head mutely.

He shifted closer so our hips were touching. His eyes roamed my face, taking in every curve and imperfection.

"Would you let me?" he whispered.

I nodded.

The edges of his smile lifted, and he moved so he was resting his forearm just above my shoulder, leaving nothing but an inch of space between our chests. I could feel his breath on my cheeks.

"I could take you with me."

My heart skipped a beat. "I...I have to stay here."

His fingers traced my eyebrow. "Then perhaps you could take a vacation." He traced the other eyebrow. "I could show you the world. And bring you back before curfew."

My throat felt dry as I swallowed. "I...don't have a curfew."

He trailed down the bridge of my nose. "All the better."

His fingers reached my lips. They parted slightly at his touch and he ran the pad of his finger across the soft skin. He did the same with my bottom lip, eyes flickering up to mine to read my expression.

The heat in my cheeks was nearly as hot as the fire. I curled my toes and squeezed my shirt until my entire hand turned bright white.

He leaned closer, our chests finally touching and making it even harder to breathe. His eyes were so pretty—pretty like a red ruby; a jewel; a rare prize. He radiated heat all over, from his chest to his breath, and my body eagerly sucked it in. Could he hear my heartbeat? Or was that his?

"May I?" he murmured. I barely nodded, as if fearing he would suddenly draw away if I moved too much. I didn't even know what exactly I was agreeing to but it felt right.

He finally closed the last of the distance and, with infinite care, pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft, like nothing I expected, and my senses were flooded with the taste of smoke and cinnamon. His lips were just as soft and perfectly big, wrapping me in a warmth that seeped into my lungs and down my legs.

When he pulled away, he rested his head on my forehead. Our eyes met again. I tried to keep my breathing under control but it just sounded like I had been running for hours. My hands hurt from my holding my shirt so tight.

"Am I convincing enough?" he asked softly, humoring seeping through his words.

I pressed my lips in a tight line and swallowed on nothing. My voice wavered as I said, "You...you really have this self-confidence thing down, don't you?"

He lifted his head and it felt like he was pulling my soul with him. "It served me well, did it not?"

Before I could answer him, the fire singed from the pot boiling over. I scrambled under his arm and removed the pot from the fire, grateful to have something to do. I put it on the stone next to the fire so it didn't burn the soft moss.

"I'll get us bowls," I tripped over my own words as I hurried into the bunker. I pulled the heavy door open and slipped inside. I grabbed two bowls but had to put them on the counter before I practically collapsed on the ground, arms wrapping around my legs and pressing my mouth into my knees.

I couldn't breathe, the pounding of my heart shook my body with every beat, and my lips burned. I bit down on the fabric of my pants as I struggled to understand if I was excited or afraid of what just happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

I'm trying to go for much longer chapters than in Demi Demon. Hope you enjoy.

And expect a new chapter THIS SUNDAY in honor of Thanksgiving!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers

[blackbatcass]

The Wonder Twins, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy

To The Desert, Benjamin Alire Sáenz / Writing Prompts for the Broken-hearted, Eden Robinson / My Name Is Memory, Ann Brashares / What We Buried, Caitlyn Siehl / Christmas Eve Forever, K.C. Cramm / In the Pines, Alice Notley / The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevksy (tr. Larissa Volokhonsky and Richard Pevear) / Juansen Dizon

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[iamfuckingsorry]

"Do you know where we are going next?" I asked ART.

Y'know what, I think maybe I don't need any more Murderbot books. I think maybe ending things here is fucking perfect and as much as I love Wells's writing I'm genuinely not sure it can get better for me.

Like, so much of the books are about MB learning how to be a person, about becoming okay with being a complete individual with everything it entails. The first thing it does once it's actually allowed to decide on its own is it runs away from it all (admittedly to go on a mission to confirm some things about its past, because it genuinely just wants to be *good*). It shoves all its emotions away as much as it's able to. Then shit happens, and it makes its first friends, makes decisions based on these friendships, goes through a lot of emotionally intense situations...

And we get to this point here. MB having zero doubts about going with ART says a lot about its relationship with ART, but it also says a lot about its relationship with its humans - it knows that wherever it goes, when it comes back, the humans will still be there. Its humans actively acknowledge its struggles with being a now-free SecUnit and MB is willing to entertain the discussions to an extent and share information about its deeply personal experiences. Hell, System Collapse ends with MB admitting it might be somewhat broken, but that's okay as long as it can keep doing its job, and agreeing to basically do counselling - this is the guy what would rewatch its favourite TV show again and again in order to avoid acknowledging it even had Emotions a couple books back.

Reading this, I know that MB will be okay. It has hopes and goals and genuinely believes in itself and it has an amazing support system that its willing to lean on for the first time in its life. I'm convinced it'll go on to do great things with ART. And that's really the only thing I need to know.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

went to my first con in 4 years on Friday to meet Kaiji Tang and got a Dazai autograph + video recording of him reading to me. He was the sweetest person (as I knew he would be) and interacting with him was lovely, but also at the same time oh boy it sure was an extremely stressful, ugly wake-up call of what it feels like to live in a world now where everyone around you has blissfully moved on from covid and can enjoy things normally and happily, while you'll forever be trapped in a hellscape of perpetual fear 🫠🫠🫠

[pussymasterdooku]

.

[jackpotsadmon]

shit like kizuna and distant blue sky are going to be the fucking death of me man

(long kizuna and pokemon rants in tags + a lot of emotional rambling and spoilers)

[noxtivagus]

eulmore ost makes me so happy 🥹

[brisingr-sword]

so is the experience of gen z not being allowed to be teenagers yet another effect of the older generations insisting on passing down this trauma, just like we were forced to watch videos of jumpers at like age 10 to ensure we “never forget,” like simply reading about it in history books every year wasn’t enough?

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.

[floral-hex]

going through old letters and cards today to see what I can throw away, mail I received when I lived in New York and never remembered to go through again until now, and I kept finding a) old school photos of my brothers, & b) letters my youngest brother wrote to me while I lived away from home, and… oof. I’m glad no one was around because I criiiiiiieeeeed so hard. Had to step away for awhile.

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

���Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.