#and 'he in an its way and it in a he way' is so true

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 1

summary - an undercover mission creates distance between you and spencer, but his hands on your waist closes it.

genre - fem!shyish!reader x spencer, forced proximity, fake relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, general cm violence and gore, spencer and reader are both awkwardly in love with each other and don’t know it yet, mentions of trafficking

w/c - 3.5k

a/n - was writing this in one part and realised i just couldn’t. *jennifer coolidge aoughhe* sorry that its a bit inconsistent with writing style, and its not my best. trying to get back into writing fics longer than 1k.

A familiar scene, an unfamiliar circumstance. The breath mint you swirled around your mouth had now disintegrated in your surprised stillness, your boss Aaron Hotchner passed you a thick case file with an attentive glance. Spencer cleared his throat, “At parties?” 

“Yes,” your boss’ hard voice returned, “The girls are swapped at banquets and ballroom dances, disguised as simple partner swapping.” Aaron turned towards the large panel screen and motioned towards an ID photo of a balding man. “This is Quinn Webley, he controls all transactions and coordinates the parties and most importantly, security.” 

“That’s why Reid and Y/L/n will be undercover. No offence but you two aren’t very noticeable,” Rossi added onto Hotch’s explanation, earning a small snort from Morgan.

There was no doubt more reasons to be chosen than that. Morgan was too impulsive, Emily could get hot-headed, JJ wasn’t trained for it, and Rossi and Hotch simply had to make sure everything went well from the outside. You and Spencer were the best options for this type of case, not only because of your skill, because of the obvious chemistry that you and Spencer shared. “Now, you’re not to make contact with Webley, all you have to do is watch him and everyone else. Pay close attention to couples, older men in small groups, and to the dances that might take place.” Hotch was not giving you or Spencer a chance to object, or to deject the idea. This was set, no negotiation. Not that you would want to be replaced in this case, it was just the fact that you were: 1. A terrible dancer, and 2. Not the most extroverted person. You nodded along, opening the case to create a personal profile of the women who were trafficked, before the discussion had come to a close, and everyone left the room to start collecting their things. 

Spencer cleared his throat, bringing you out of your analysis to meet his warm eyes. Suddenly, the easy-going banter you and Spencer shared had evaporated, replaced by suffocating silence. He didn’t meet your gaze back, only muttering in the silence, “Can I assume you want me to take the lead on this one?” 

“Oh, yes please.” You smile smally, trying to melt the ice that had somehow solidified between you two. Spencer was awkward, introverted, preferred alone time, but you were shy, quiet, and verbally uncoordinated (and physically). 

He nodded and exited the room, sighing off nerves that had piled themselves onto his shoulders since finding out he’d have to go undercover with the one girl he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with. He didn’t think the case would ruin your friendship, but it could make it harder for him to keep it that way.

Spencer stood straight with Derek peering over his shoulder and into the mirror. Derek picked at some dust on Spencer’s suit jacket as the nervous boy attempted to loop his tie neatly. 

Derek chuckles under his breath and turns the boy by his shoulders to face him, lifting his strong hands to help Spencer with the dark crimson red tie. Spencer silently thanked him with a nod.

“What are you so nervous about, Spencer?” He asked, half joking half serious, “It’s just an undercover mission. You’ve done this plenty of times.” 

“Not like this,” Spencer quickly replied, “Not with…” Her. You. 

Derek opened his mouth slightly and nodded, finally understanding the true reason for Spencer’s bouncing leg and sweaty hands. 

“Don’t freak out too much okay? You need to act like you love her, which won’t be too hard- But you need to do it without looking like you’re afraid of her.” Derek finished tying Reid’s tie and patted him on the chest as a hype up, smiling at him brotherly like. He knew Spencer’s feelings for you, that he liked you. A lot. 

He didn’t know Spencer wouldn’t have to act like he loves you. Spencer bit the inside of his lip nervously and turned to the mirror again, taking his eyes over his slightly unfamiliar reflection. 

The suit is tailored perfectly to his body, making him look trim, lean, and tall. Derek handed him a black bottle of cologne and headed for the door, before a sudden question stopped him.

“Do you… do you think she’s too good for me?” Spencer looked at Derek with big eyes, blinking rapidly. The man stood in slight shock before laughing away the silence, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew Spencer wasn’t accusing him of anything, it was a genuine question. Spencer thought he was lesser, less than what you deserved - even if it was just for a night. 

“Pretty boy, I think she’s happier to be doing this than you know. I think she likes you- I know she likes you-“

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Uh uh uh. No. Trust me, Reid,” Derek opened the hotel door and gestured for Spencer to follow him, “If you don’t trust me, ask her yourself.”

The girls whistled loudly at you like a bunch of old men when you emerged from the bathroom. You spun on your heel (which was way too tall for your liking) to entertain the ladies, JJ clapping her hands together and Garcia smiling so hard you felt your own cheeks burn. 

“Why do fake couples always have to be straight, huh?” Emily joked, and you giggled back at her. You crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to face a standing mirror in the corner of the fancy hotel. 

Your body was wrapped in a silky red, floor length dress, with wide and long sleeves draping over your covered arms like a cloud surrounds a mountain. It cinched at your waist, and stopped at just the right length to expose your 4 inch, black heels. You couldn’t deny that you looked incredible, although your nerves were playing with your head. 

“You look stunning,” Garcia repeated what she said when she was doing your makeup - simple and accentuating - when she noticed your slight anxiety.

Dressing up like this and wearing makeup and styling hair? Not your thing. It’s not that you didn’t like it - you loved being girly. It was just your own insecurities and personal preferences that caused you to wear sweaters and sneakers (anything that wouldn’t bring attention to yourself). 

The girls knew this, and dressed you simply and modestly so as to not add to your nerves that an undercover mission usually invites, and you appreciated it greatly. Although the heels were really high.

You were especially nervous to present yourself like this in front of him.

That’s why you fiddled your hands together, why you looked yourself over in the mirror three times before leaving, why you let the girls completely take over your look. 

You walked out into the hallway, pushing some hair behind your shoulder and letting the other side drape, still getting used to walking in those heels, when you were met with more whistles and compliments. Aaron nodded at you, knowing how abrasive you were to the idea at first, and Rossi and Morgan both asked you to give them a spin - and you did. 

The encouragement lifted your spirits slightly, a smile exploding from your face as a soft blush covered it. This is probably the best you’ve looked in front of them. 

“Where’s her date?” JJ asked, she mentioned that Morgan had the job of matching Spencer’s tie but she didn’t trust him.

“Don’t worry, he’s got on the best dark red tie that we could find. He’s downstairs in the foyer.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows together before Hotch added, “You have to leave together just in case. Precautions, okay?” 

Spencer swapped the position of his hands at least five times in a minute, glancing at the elevator in the all too fancy hotel every time someone emerged from it. He adjusted his tie, and sniffed his wrists to make sure he smelt good for you. He always made sure of it, after you offhandedly mentioned to Emily how smells could either make or break your day. 

You had a lot in common with Spencer, other than the obvious career choice. You were both… weird. Talkative around each other, silent around others. Shy, but confident in your abilities. You both had your things - your’s is smell, his is germs.

And luckily, whenever you went to Spencer’s apartment to drop off or pick up a book, his place always smelt like cleaning products and cologne.

Though now, he smelt like cedar wood and smoke. You tapped him on the back, nerves rushing through you like a teenager on her first date. He jumps slightly, not hearing the last elevator ding in his own worries, and turns on his heels - nearly bumping into you. 

“Woah.” He let that simple word slip before he could even bite his tongue, and a red wash painted his cheeks and ears.

You looked stunning, and Spencer was simply awestruck. 

You pushed a straightened piece of hair behind your ears and smiled shyly down at your feet, not letting yourself look at him for too long in fear that you’d melt into a puddle. Spencer cleared his throat to contain himself, and held out his arm for you to thread your own through. 

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking.” You ask timidly - very unlike how you normally were around him. You avoided taking his arm, scared he’d feel uncomfortable with the contact before he straightened his back and reluctantly pulled your elbow through his. 

“Just nervous, you look-“ He coughed, “Nice.” 

A smile slipped from you as you thanked him quietly, the two of you heading out the large foyer doors and towards a black limousine.

The ride was mostly silent other than the quiet music playing from the radio. And despite the large amount of room in the back, the two of you stayed conjoined at the hips. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both nervous, maybe it’s the job.

Maybe it’s because you’re both going into a place you’d never purposefully enter. 

“You smell good.” You broke the silence, your knee tapping his. He brought his attention from the window to your face, now noticing the small amount of makeup that accentuated your already beautiful features.

“Thanks. You too.” 

Suddenly, Morgan’s playful voice cut through the weirdly comfortable silence, through to both of your earpieces. “Alright you two. Now, you both know you’ll have to be all lovey-dovey, no acting needed, but don’t over do it. We’re not trying to make contact with Webley, just to get close enough to watch him. If you lose sight of him, hit the dance floor, he and his wife enjoy moving around.” Spencer’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stare at the black floor in concentration. His hands start getting a bit sweaty and he has to clear his throat to coax himself into listening to Morgan. 

“And if he heads for the kitchen, let us know, we’ve got an officer that’s acting as a bodyguard at the back door that can tell us when he’s left.”

Spencer thanks him over the ear piece, holding down a small microphone under his cufflinks. Your hands fiddled with each other, threatening to chip off the nail polish Emily so carefully painted. Spencer felt his heart pump in his chest, but ignored it and took a small mint tin from the inside of his jacket, holding a small white pellet out to you. “Y/n,” he caught your attention and smiled at you sweetly, easing your nerves almost immediately. You took the mint from his palm, your fingertips tracing the lines on his palm softly before you popped it into your mouth. You didn’t have to ask how he knew you needed that, you had grown comfortable with knowing Spencer knew more about you than anyone else in the team. 

The venue was a mansion mixed with a theatre. There were expansive columns lining the outside, countless balconies looking out onto the cityscape, and gardens paired with ponds that were home to some unexpectedly calm swans. You and Spencer both stood there for a few seconds, taking in the architecture, as well as the amount of people entering and exiting the main doors. For a second, you felt giddy and childish. You weaved your arm under his and he let his other hand land over yours to squeeze it gently - he must feel just out of place but weirdly excited as you are. 

Don’t lose sight of the real priority here, Y/n. 

But it’s hard to do that when you’re entering the conjuring of your childhood dreams. 

When you start walking up the large stairs, your heels click and Spencer tightens his arm slightly, your stepping becoming a little uneven. These damn heels. 

“You okay?” He asked, one eyebrow raised slightly. His hair was combed back, his long locks more tamed than usual, but one curly strand just escaped and covered the left side of his forehead. It looked effortless, handsome.

“Um- Yeah, sorry. I’m not used to shoes like this.” You laughed like it's funny and Spencer continued to basically lift you up the stairs with no complaining.

When you stepped foot into the main foyer of the building, there were multiple chandeliers that swayed safely in the bustling movement of the quartz floor. There were multiple vases of red and white flowers, almost matching your dress, and multiple suited guards at every entrance and staircase. They smile at guests, and offer them menus and directions, and smartly conceal their weapons in case of intruders. Intruders being you and Spencer.

When Spencer leads you up to them, his hands finally still and confident, the guards smile at you both - offering you an extra look over that has Spencer angling himself to cover you. 

“Names?” One of them asked, pulling out a checklist from behind his back (you almost thought they were pulling out their small guns - you really were not confident in how to act… well… confident.) 

“Mr and Mrs Conner.” 

“First names?” 

First names? You weren’t given first names. Garcia had made sure that nobody else on the guestlist was by the last name of Conner. You could practically see the cogs churning in Spencer’s head - creativity wasn’t really his strong point. 

“Did you just ask for our first names?” You scoff, your voice becoming a bit whinier than usual, “You obviously live under a rock, there are no other Coopers.” 

The guard widened his eyes, scanning the list again and stuttering, “I’m sorry ma’am. You’re obviously- Have a good night.” The guard lifted an arm as an invitation inside, and you gave him a glare. Spencer smiled once you were both out of sight and squeezed your hand with his own. But there are no words, as you’re too taken aback by the sheer size and beauty of the room, if you could even call it that, to focus on the contact. Even larger chandeliers, expansive marble floors and painted ceilings with naked bodies. The warm lighting nearly convinced you that this was just some rich party that people get drunk at and talk about nonsense, but Hotch suddenly talking in your earpieces brought you out of the spell that the pure aesthetics had lured you with. “In the back left of the dance floor, you’ll see Webley dancing with his wife, talking to a pair of aristocrats. Try to get closer, don’t be obvious.”

You released a breath and Spencer adjusted his arms to intertwine his fingers with yours, causing you to meet his gaze in surprise. “We’re in love, remember?” His eyes creased with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in comforting patterns you couldn’t decipher. Oh, you couldn’t forget that. “Right,” you respond, straightening your back and walking with him towards the dance floor. 

His hands carefully rested on your waist, his fingers gripping slightly against the silky fabric of your dress. The contact made your skin burn, a permanent pink painting your cheeks and increasing whenever you made eye contact with the tall and undeniably good looking man you were dancing with. Spencer didn’t look anywhere other than you and the back left of the dance floor. You had almost grown bored of the nerves in your heart before you noticed something you didn’t see before. 

“Hey, your tie matches my dress.” You said softly, barely audible over the music that echoed around the hall. Spencer glanced down at his tie (thankfully still properly tied) and then at your dress. That was a mistake, because now his breathing is deeper and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

Spencer nodded and sent you a small smile, “Morgan made sure of it.” 

“Didn’t that spoil it for you?” You asked, finally meeting his gaze. It looked deep, it looked… heavy. 

His swirling brown eyes shot electricity at you when he replied, “Why would it be spoiled?” 

You lowered your head away as you smiled sheepishly, “This is probably the nicest I’ve ever been in front of you. Probably wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be.” 

“You wanted it to be special?” You felt his fingers twitch on your waist as your own fingers twiddled with each other behind his neck. You lifted your face and found him clearing his throat, “I mean, it was still special. Although, I disagree with it being the nicest you’ve ever look.” 

You laughed, and it caused Spencer to crack a smile. 

“I show up to work bare-faced, in second-hand pants and sweaters two times my size. I feel like this is pretty good.” 

“You always look good.” 

You almost stopped your soft swaying with him in shock, and Spencer’s cheek reddened as if he was also shocked he said it. Spencer cleared his throat again, and bit the inside of his lip. 

The others couldn’t hear them right now. The music was soft, people chattered and to be honest, the whole mission had been erased from his mind. Spencer took a long, deep breath.

“I think you look beautiful right now, of course. But you’re still beautiful when you’re dressed like how you like to. I know what it feels like to not want to bring attention to yourself, and how sometimes your clothes can hide you. But…” Spencer stopped your movements with his hands lowering to your hips, he had been instinctively pulling you closer throughout the dance. “There’s nothing you could do, or wear, that could possibly take my attention off of you.” 

You felt your world stand still, although the blur of people didn’t seize, and fluttered your eyelashes at him unsure of how to respond. It was the most he’s spoken to you in one time - excluding random facts and the babbling you accept everyday.

“Spencer…” 

The tall man raised his hands to your waist again, the motion leaving waves of nerves to tumble over you, before he cleared his throat and started darting his eyes from yours to someone’s in the background. 

“Y/n. I think I saw Webley.” His grip only slightly tightened on your silk dress, his fingers curling slightly to move you across the dance floor slowly. You were definitely the more uncoordinated of you two. 

He moved skilfully across the dance floor, avoiding bodies and feet like it was rehearsed. 

“Not too close.” You muttered, Spencer’s attention flickering to you for only a second to nod in agreement. You need to watch him, not make contact with him. 

You grimace slightly, your ankle wobbling at an awkward angle for a second before you recover and-

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You meet his eyes again, his own already burning a hole through you and your heels. 

“I’m fine, again it’s just the heels.” 

“They seem to be causing you a lot of harm,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. Maybe he can distract you. “Did you know that heeled shoes were originally designed for Medieval Soldiers? They were made to make rising horses easier, putting a heel in the stirrups instead of your armoured shoe. And in the 16th century they weren’t supposed to be… to be seen…” He rambled and stopped abruptly.

He didn’t stop because you told him to, or you looked annoyed, or you lost interest. He stopped because you looked… too good to say anything. It made him nervous like a school boy seeing his crush in her prom dress - although he never got to experience that. It felt pretty close.

You tilted your head, a piece of straightened, silky hair falling over your shoulder. Spencer gulped, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand and twirled the piece in his pointer finger. 

It was like an optical illusion, something you know can’t be real, but intrigued you anyways. That’s what you felt, because whatever was happening right now could not be real. 

Spencer Reid looked entranced, hypnotised without knowing. And you looked red. 

“Th-they weren’t supposed to be seen?” 

Spencer snapped out of his trance but didn’t continue, only pulling you forward by the waist and moving that strand behind your ear. Your heart pumped, your ears matching the colour of your dress. 

He didn’t try to kiss you, even if he wanted to so badly. Instead, he lowered his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered, “Let’s go. Webley opened the kitchen door.” 

And your heart dropped.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna

[mononijikayu]

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.  “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait  

for you, a light that never fades.  

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—  

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach 

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together. 

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking. 

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered. 

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before. 

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

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THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives. 

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, “I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. 

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you. 

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

[oceantornadoo]

(simon riley x f!reader, same rank!)

violence, cod inaccuracies, reader is a badass

simon riley never calls you baby

until he does.

you tell him it has to stay hidden. you can't be known as "the girl fucking the lieutenant", no matter if you're the same rank as him, the same sweat and tears put into the job. it scares you, the thought of losing decades of hard work over some stupid fling with a man they call ghost. a man who brings you tea on your sick days, a man with soft eyes and a listening ear, the only man who's ever brought you to orgasm. the push and pull of your autonomy and your love is ever growing, that bone deep fear rooted in your marrow.

simon's scared too. scared of waking up and it's all a dream. scared that his enemies will find out, scared that it'll show he isn't so dead after all. he's been a rotting thing on earth for nearly four decades and he's comfortable with it; no matter how alive you make him feel. his hand on your waist feels right, but he can't bring his heart into the light.

so you call each other "lieutenant." maybe "riley" when he pisses you off, just to get under his skin. "dove" is rare, but it warms you up just the same, gives you an unbidden vision of hot chocolate and snow days. mainly its "l.t.", remnant of johnny, the respect and friendliness woven together sweetly. you murmured "babe" to him once, in the early morning when he sneaks out, and felt his shoulders bunch, the weight of it too much to bear. that was the end of pet names, or so you thought.

--

it's a foggy day on what becomes the worst night of your life. the mission is at a standstill, the intel outdated. you were supposed to be taking out a terrorist organization, blowing up the base of their operations, but instead the building is damp and abandoned, echoes of life the only sign they were here. price is in your ear, telling you to clear one last room and retreat, simon already on his way out. you nudge your way into the room with caution, years of practiced steps coming to you on instinct. for some reason, you don't catch the glint of a stranger's eye in a hidden corner. you don't see the rope in his hands, the knife between his teeth. the next thing you see is the floor, fog seeping over concrete as rough hands gag you and mutter promises of ungodly harm.

something's wrong. "price." simon murmurs soft and low, crossing out of the building to the tree cover below. "where is she? s'pposed t' be out by now." he's scanning the building through his scope, looking for that figure he knows so well, could find blind. "copy. 'er tracker says she's still in the buildin'. let's-" there's a piercing scream in the air. the ravens take flight from the trees. dark wings, dark words. "ghost-" "goin' in." a sigh on the other end. he can practically feel price's hesistancy but he doesn't care, heavy feet already moving back into the building. "you're goin' in blind, radar's jus' gone out." he swears under his breath, clearing hallway after hallway as the building falls back into silence. just as he comes upon a 4-way split, you scream again, the sound far away and to his left. "'m comin' dove, hold on." there's no gunfire, no sounds of fight. it's so eerie he thinks he might have dreamed it, his worst nightmare come true. his instincts lead the way, some knowledge of your location hidden in his blood. pop. finally a gunshot, and if he squints hard, he tries to imagine it being from your weapon. he's close, nostrils expanding at the scent of you, memorized even without your favored perfume.

there were four of them. you still can't believe you missed them, the thought in the back of your head as you fight for your life. scrambling from the rope one tries to force on you, becoming an eel as you slip out of their grasps. this is what you do, what you're trained for. until someone stomps down hard on your ankle, the force of it cracking straight through. you scream, can't help it, searing pain blinding your vision for precious seconds. they take advantage of it, gloved hands tying your own behind your back in a tight knot. you can't reach your comms so you scream again, this one out of frustration, desperation that your team, that simon, might not find you.

the big one shuts you up with a hand to your throat, a bruising grip that leaves you unable to speak. they aren't well trained, fumbling hands and shaky grips, and you're finally able to reach your holster, shooting the first between the eyes before you can even glimpse his face. now you're in your element, adrenaline covering the pain of your ankle as you fight back, shooting one after the other, digging out your knife for close combat. it's over in a blink, the men no match for your skills, and once you double check they're dead, you collapse in the corner, the pain of your ankle roaring. that's when you hear it.

"baby?" it's him (but it can't be). he's never called you that. you pretend not to see when he whispers it into your neck as you feign sleep, when he murmurs it in a grunt as he's deep in your cunt. he's never said it to your face. "baby!" it's definitely him, that gruff voice cutting across the fog. you whine out of frustration, your throat too sore from your attacker to call out. instead, you limp to the door, almost running into simon as he comes crashing into your own personal hell. he sweeps you into his arms and you let him, grabbing his shoulders to make sure he's real.

"y' hurt?" he takes a look around the room, at the carnage in your wake. "my brave girl." you're sobbing, unsure whether its from frustration or relief. still can't believe you got caught, feeling like such a stereotype to have your knight in shining armor rescue you. "handled them all y'rself, hm, baby?" he's all sweetness and it hurts, seeing his eyes swell in pride as he takes in the four dead men, gunshots and a knife sticking out of one's eye. "why- why are you calling me that, simon?" he's ushering you out, your arm around his neck as you limp towards freedom. "proud of you." he says it simply, eyes trained on potential threats, not watching your reaction.

"aye, i told you, gaz. ye owe me a drink." soap's voice crackles through the comms. they were on. which meant your team heard the whole thing, heard simon practically claim you, knew you were together, thought you were a slu- "she's too good for him. i don't believe it." gaz's voice replied. "bugger off." simon grumbled into the mic, the sounds of them snickering loud and clear. "good?" he turned back at you, stopping you before you approached the clearing where your team waited. his eyes told you something different, that he'd walk out of here right now if you wanted. the cock of his head meant he'd follow you anywhere, live off the lamb for decades if you wanted. that was all you needed to know. you nodded and pushed forward. "yeah, i'm good, baby."

--

this is SO CRINGE but it's been in my drafts forever and needed to start paying rent

[missfertileandferal]

lowkey super anxious to post this but im missing you guys so much <3

i plan on a solid return soon! i just wanted to get off my chest whats been going on:

Earlier this year, I dealt with an awful situation of my kinky stuff leaking into real life. My insane coworkers found my content and as I was serving on the clock, proceeded to show my customers and all the staff. then i was fired. Im traumatized to say the least but I over came it.

Come mid summer, I planned so step back for a little bit to move apartments no more than a couple weeks. What happened was both my job (i worked with close family friends so stressful) and a really bad situation with a companion found about my kink stuff. i never expected or was prepared for the humiliation, deception, and pain that would come from my fetish journey

My last job was such a loss. I had been blessed with a cute job as a medical office assistant without any credentials (i wasnt doing anything out of my capabilities of course) it was so peaceful and perfect compared to the drama of my last gig plus working with familiar people felt just like home honestly. Then I got covid. I was out for 2 weeks, at the same time i was moving into my new place. I tried calling them back to let them know I was cleared and ready to get back to work. I received a humiliating text. I was dismissed. That turned into a crippling anxiety of them confessing to my family what I do in my past time

The following week I was met with more disappointment. Ive said this before but I dont have many people in my corner. It used to suck to admit but I stand with pride now knowing those who are around me love me 100% regardless what I do or dont do.

One of my dearest dearest friends, who I had previously communicated what I do (not to a full extent they always respected it) called me very dramatically only a week before I planned to see them (they live across the country and we ALWAYS visit each other when in our cities) It still doesnt feel real tbh, the call only last 40 seconds. I was informed that “I was going on the wrong path” and could no longer be associated with. That’s alls that happened. 8 years down the drain

I was informed by outside sources that my hometown opps had gotten hold of my content (who my ex friend still associate with but I despise bc they’ve always been obsessed with me but in a bad way) and they had confronted him about being my friend. he pussied out and cut me off. they also mass reported my last instagram account😡🤬

I had to take some time back to seriously debate if these loses were worth it. I was swallowed with so much anxiety knowing that an uncomfortable amount of people in my zip code knew what ive been up to. its already complicated being into this and while at the same time not being in a plus size body. thats another conversation tho

That debate has turned into me accepting these events as the universe weeding out people/things that no longer serve me. This has shown peoples true colors, if I am not to be associated with because of my sexual freedom, body acceptance, and undoing of fat phobia then PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.

Im recovering ❤️‍🩹 but my heart and hedonism can’t be helped. i love being a kinky lil gut slut. its helped me grow in so many ways from acceptance to living an esoteric dreamy life. i love all the hot girls and guys that i see on my timeline. they hype me up and vise versa. i love this little corner of the internet. my fellow freaks keep me going. i’ve been so on and off online but every time i come back to the sweetest words and support. thank you guys for your patience and consideration

my anxiety is to the roof as im typing. its crazy that these privacy problems havent been within the actual community. funny. if your still reading this I love you extra. ill be streaming on ig on my comeback day!

new ig acc @missfertileandferal💘

[17020]

LET'S PLAY TELEPHONE!

In which Third Division vice-captains Yn Narumi and Soshiro Hoshina become their officers' latest hot topic after a misunderstanding, even reaching the Ariake Maritime base and its captain, Gen Narumi.

TAGS . . . implied manga spoilers, co-vice captains!yn & hoshina, gen's sister!reader, suggestive remarks, warning!! gen narumi, loser hoshina agenda, everyone in the jakdf are gossips.

TELEPHONE . . . START!

Reno Ichikawa and Kafka Hibino were... confused. With each passing day, there were more questions popping up in their heads whenever they saw their vice-captains around the Tachikawa base. Sure, it wasn't any of their business, but you have to entertain yourself at your job with what you have, right?

"Oh! Here they come now" Kafka whispered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Reno simply nodded as he saw you and Soshiro step into the cafeteria, each one of you grabbing a lunch tray and sitting next to one another.

"What do you see, sir?" Reno questioned the man in front of him, as he squinted his eyes to get a better view. "Nothing out of the ordinary, they're just lunchin—oh!" he gasped, to which Reno raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"He put his arm around her, like in the movies."

Now that piqued Reno's interest, as he subtly turned his head to watch the scene behind him. It was true, the way in which Soshiro had wrapped his arm around your shoulder resembled the old movies he used to watch as a little boy. There was a huge smile on your face, which only fueled his theory even further.

"They sure are happy" he noted. Kafka chuckled at his comment, "If you didn't know them, you'd probably think they're dating!"

They both looked at each other with a serious expression, as if something had finally clicked. Reno leaned in, "You thinking what I'm thinking, sir?"

He nodded, his gaze returning to you and Soshiro. He could see a slight pink hue in his cheeks, which confirmed his suspicions.

It was then when Iharu sat down beside them, asking what they were so serious about. When they asked him to lean in, he knew he was in for a good time. Asking what the huge deal was and why they had to be so secretive, his eyes almost popped out of his skull when he heard the reason.

"Haven't you seen? Vice-captain Narumi and vice-captain Hoshina act like a couple!"

GET THE MESSAGE ACROSS!

As soon as the speculation started, Iharu knew that the next person he had to recruit was Izumo. When approached in the training room, Izumo simply tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"What makes you think that?"

"Are you blind?" Iharu asks, his hands on his head. "Dude, they're all over each other—I swear. Just pay attention on our next mission."

The Kaiju gods must have been on Iharu's side, because as soon as he said those words, there was an emergency in a nearby park. It was a crustacean-type honju with various yoju, and as soon as the officers touched the battlefield, their eyes were on you.

With each yoju they neutralized, they turned their heads towards you, as you and Soshiro paved a path for your captain to neutralize the honju. They paid special attention to their earpieces, which gave them a conversation starter for the next week.

"Whoever cracks the honju's shell first gets free dinner" Soshiro beamed, running straight towards the creature in front of him. Your laugh was heard through the officers' earpieces, "I guess I'll have free dinner tonight then! Remember that new ramen place near Shibuya Station?" you asked, rifle in hand shooting right through the crab's carapace.

Soshiro chuckled, "Same time as last week?"

"Mhm."

"Don't make me wait, m'dear."

Soon after, Captain Ashiro stepped in to take care of the honju. The officers saw Soshiro approach you after all kaiju were neutralized, excited to hear what he was to say next. What surprised them, though, was that they didn't hear anything, despite seeing his lips move.

Soshiro Hoshina turned off his microphone, and so did you.

The four men looked at each other before turning theirs off as well, with Iharu speaking up. "What could be so important that they had to turn off their mics?"

"Guess that's confirmed, then" Reno stated.

"What's confirmed?"

The group stiffened as they recognized the voice, turning around to see Kikoru with her arms crossed. They looked at each other, then at her.

"Didn't you know? Vice-captain Narumi and Vice-captain Hoshina are dating!"

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED . . . NOT?

FURUHASHI 20:50 SHINOMIYA PLEASE YOURE OUR ONLY HOPE!!!

HIBINO 20:50 If you wouldn't mind, Shinomiya, please!

ICHIKAWA 20:50 Please, Shinomiya We'll pay you back however we can

Kikoru sighed at the screen in front of her, shutting her phone off and leaving it on her bed before heading out. She was in total disbelief, asking herself why she even agreed to it in the first place. Going inside the bathhouse, she could faintly hear you and Nakanoshima having a chat.

Nothing too interesting, according to the guidelines she had received. She could hear Iharu's voice in her head, screaming 'Only tell us if she says something related to the matter at hand!'

As she took a seat in the bath in front of you, she noticed something was off. There was a faint, red-ish mark on your collarbone, and she knew there was no way a kaiju would have done that.

"Um, vice-captain?"

You turned your head towards her, a smile on your face. "What's up, Shinomiya?"

"If you don't mind me asking, are you okay? There's something on your neck."

Your eyes widened as you raised your hand to your collarbone, before letting out a giggle. "It's nothing to worry about, Shinomiya. When my liver has had enough of my drinking habits, I usually break out in hives. I didn't know I had one right now, so thank you."

She hummed in response, while you mentioned that it was late and you had to head to Soshiro's office to run through some reports. When you stepped out of the bath, Kikoru's eyes were wide and her jaw was nearly on the floor.

Scratches. All over your back.

Bidding your goodbyes, Kikoru was left thinking. It was Nakanoshima who broke her our of her trance.

"You don't think that was her liver, don't you?" Nakanoshima questioned, "I'm not usually one to spill, but I don't think that's her liver either. You saw those scratches?"

Kikoru nodded, "She's heading to the vice-captain's office right now" she said, to which the platoon leader laughed. "Is she? We don't really have any proof, you know? What we do know, though..."

"...is that vice-captain Narumi is keeping herself busy."

After drying herself up and returning to her room, Kikoru unlocked her phone, ready to send a message.

SHINOMIYA 22:22 I got something

FURUHASHI 22:22 WHAT SPILL

ICHIKAWA 22:23 What'd you find??

HIBINO 22:23 Say something

IZUMO 22:24 Yo Spill

SHINOMIYA 22:25 Vice-captain Narumi and vice-captain Hoshina are sleeping with each other

THE TELEPHONE BROKE!

Kikoru usually complained that the training room was always too rowdy due to the men, but today, she was silent.

Everbody was silent.

Word had gotten out about what happened the night before, and everyone was simply processing. They weren't judging, but they were curious. How could you even have the time, as a vice-captain?

When lunchtime came around, the group was determined to watch you like a hawk. They grabbed their trays and made a beeline towards your table, where you and Soshiro happily welcomed them.

While Kafka engaged with the two of you in some small talk, Kikoru and Reno observed. They looked for anything that could be deemed as suspicious. When Reno's eyes scanned over your hands, he gently kicked Kikoru from under the table.

His eyes told her everything she needed to know, as she subtly sent Kafka a text about her and Reno's finding. On the side of your hand, right below your pinky, was a tattoo of a date. And oh—what a coincidence! Soshiro had the same one.

When Kafka secretly read Kikoru's text, he choked on his food, causing you and Soshiro to ask him if he's okay. "I'm good, vice-captains, but if it's okay to ask, why do you have matching tattoos?"

Soshiro laughed as he slammed his palm on the table, "That's 50 pushups for ya, fledgling!" "Hey—make it 30, he was just curious" you justified, "It's okay to ask, Hibino. Me and Hoshina lost a bet to a superior officer a long time ago and had to tattoo the date of that night as a result."

He didn't push any further, afraid it would cost him more pushups.

SHINOMIYA 13:01 Long time ago my ass that ink looks fresh

FURUHASHI 13:01 They're definitely hiding something

ICHIKAWA 13:02 Hey aren't we going to the first division base later today? We can ask some of the officers from there

FURUHASHI 13:03 Shinomiya you know what to do

SHINOMIYA 13:04 What am I your errand girl?

HIBINO 13:05 You're gossip girl

"Rookies, isn't it rude to be on your phones when you're at the table?"

FURUHASHI 13:06 Watch he's gonna give us 30 pushups cuz he wants to hide that he and vice-captain Narumi are married

"Officer Furuhashi, please drop your phone, it's rude. That's 40 pushups for ya."

MESSAGE RECEIVED!

Even with the First Division present, the investigation was ongoing. Within the shared training grounds, whispers were exchanged about the latest news.

"I mean, I couldn't believe it—I'm still in shock" Kafka whispered, to which Kikoru nodded. "It's weird that they decided to keep it secret, but I can see where they're coming from. Who'd want everyone to know that you're boning your coworker?"

"Who's boning who?"

Shivers ran down Kikoru and Kafka's spines as they realized who that voice belonged to. They straightened themselves up while saluting, "Captain Narumi! Sorry, we didn't see you there" Kafka apologized.

"You didn't answer my question, who's boning who?"

"Uhm..."

"Well?"

"...umi and...shina."

"Hahh?"

"...aptain Narumi and....Hoshina, sir"

"Speak up, damn it!"

"Vice-captain Narumi and vice-captain Hoshina, sir!"

"Well that's fuckin' outdated, I'm captain and I'm not into idiots like Hoshina."

"..."

"Oh."

"..."

"BONE?"

"Well, sir, it's normal for married couples to—"

"My SISTER is MARRIED?"

"Sir, we don't know for su—"

"MY SISTER? BOOOONE?"

When Gen Narumi turned on his heel and left, Kafka and Kikoru knew they were done for. They scrambled out of the training grounds in fear for their lives, as Gen Narumi angrily called you and Soshiro into his office.

When you went to greet him with a hug, he screeched. "Yn, you got married to that beady eyed scumbag and didn't tell me??"

You looked at him confused, "Gen, where did you hear that?"

"It's captain Narumi, and for your information, I found out because your whole squad knows you're fucking each other."

Soshiro laughed, his hand holding his stomach from how hard he was laughing. "You think I'd date Yn?"

"It's Ln to you, and I'll have you know my sister is way out of your league, you annoying brat."

"Gen, did you seriously call us to your office for this?" you questioned, seeing the pout on your brother's face. "I have nothing to hide, Gen, and you know that if I'd be dating someone, you'd be the first to know."

"Good to know" he noted, "now get out, will ya? I got things to do."

As soon as you closed the door behind you, you looked at Soshiro. He was about to laugh, when he saw your fearful expression.

"We need to be more careful Soshiro" you sighed, "don't go leaving any evidence next time."

"Oh brother, If I'd be dating someone, you'd be the first to know" he mocked.

Your angry expression quickly shut him up.

"The tattoo thing was a good save though, sweetheart. Good job."

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @maruflix @littleplantfreak @heartkaji @ryescapades , also tagging @justwinginglife this is for you !!

[carmenberzattosgf]

You’ve mentioned this before but cockwarming is 10000% Carmy’s favourite physical thing to do. It can be a part of sex or just something on its own but either way it makes him feel safer than anything else. He literally never feels safer than when he’s just inside reader, it lulls him into this state of comfort that he’s never experienced before like the ceiling could fall in and he would barely notice. He asks for it whenever he’s particularly stressed and at first he feels bad and that’s selfish because he thinks reader isn’t getting anything out of it but after a while she can teach him that that’s not true. Bonus hc that sometimes during cockwarming he comes he can’t explain it and he always feels embarrassed but it happens

Cockwarming making Carmy feel safe is the perfect way to put it, actually.

You’re just so warm and snug around him. Seriously, he could have the worst day at work ever, but it would all be forgotten about the second you sit on his dick.

I think it becomes a routine in all honesty. Carmy comes home from work, gets showered, and you both snuggle up on the couch to watch some tv. More often than not it ends up with him inside of you.

The way he initiates it is always gentle, carefully pulling you into his lap so you can feel his hard-on through his shorts. “Can you, baby? Please?” His voice is soft in your ear.

“Mhm—of course,” you reply instantly, sitting up to push down your pants and underwear. Carmy holds you close as you straddle him, groaning into your lips when you sink down onto his cock.

His arms wrap around your body as soon as you bottom out. Carmy holds you like his life depends on it, keeping your skin flush with his own. Carefully, he shifts down so he can lean back against the arm of the couch, keeping you on top of him. He’ll rub at your back with his fingertips, relishing in your warmth all over him.

Carmy tends to feel bad about asking you to do this for him, because he doesn’t want to be a bother. He also doesn’t want you to think he just wants your body all the time. It takes a hot second to unwire his brain from thinking so negatively about it, and that you enjoy the comfort just as much as he does.

About your bonus thought… YES.

The first time it happens is after he’s been inside you for nearly an hour. Out of nowhere, a breathy, broken groan leaves his mouth while he has his face buried in the crook of your neck. Next, you feel the tell-tale warmness deep inside of you. A series of whimpers falls from his lips before he finally stills.

“Carm? You okay?” You ask with a gentle voice.

“Shit—s-sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to—“ His face is completely pink when he raises up from the crook of your neck.

“Hey, Bear. S’okay. You have nothing to apologize for—nothing at all.” You cup his face and bring him in for a deep kiss to stop him from trying to apologize again.

Once the kiss breaks, you settle back down on top of him, and he holds you even closer to try and prevent any of his cum from spilling out.

It’s safe to say you both fall asleep on the couch that night. At some point during the night, Carmy wakes up and reaches for the blanket that stays on the back of the couch, covering you and him up.

[shrimpybbq]

Blessing in Disguise

Abstract: A war-torn Gwayne is presented with an opportunity when the dragon of a Targaryen Princess is shot down near his camp. A once devout follower of his Knight's oath, Gwayne no longer sees much point when Criston Cole gifts him Princess, his only requirement being to keep her alive. The Hightower Knight has suppressed his own urges for so long, but now, he no longer wishes to, not when he's been given a sweet Princess just for himself.

Warnings: Gwyane is not nice in this, future dub-con/non-con, abuse of power, prisoner/captor dynamics, manky Criston Cole, future 18+ (Not proof read)

______________________________________________

Fighting on the front lines of a war was incredibly taxing, more so for a highborn knight with expectations placed on him that felt insurmountable, and a self-deprecating Hand of the King as a companion. Gwayne found spending each day with Ser Criston Cole brought him closer to understanding just why and how the former commander had ended up in such an illustrious position, for no one but his rotten nephew could find a kindred spirit in such a person. The Hightower rode with the army as they acquired more allies, his spirit withering until one day, he was presented with a gift. He thinks he must be dreaming when one day, a princess falls from the sky.

He doesn’t recognise the girl at first, her body a crumped heap on top of a blistered and broken dragon, but it seems the Hand beside him does.

“Seize the princess immediately,” Cole barks, “restrain her and slay the beast of hers.”

Gwayne recalls the ear-splitting screech that her dragon had let out just moments ago as it was hit by the scorpion, the silver body falling rapidly to the ground with its rider still attached. A dragon was a sacred creature and yet, in times of war, nothing could be protected in such a way any longer. The true prize for the army wasn’t the death of the dragon, but the capture of its rider. The only daughter of the Pretender Queen was more valuable to the Greens than the entirety of the Crownlands, for nothing was more precious to Rhaenyra than her daughter.

Gwayne watches as the soldiers handle the Princess, her frame grappled and manoeuvred in ways unbecoming of a lady. The girl doesn't even fight back, still unconscious as her body is slung over the back of a horse. The Hightower wishes to wipe the smug smile off Cole's face as he takes stock of his newest prize, but says nothing as the party ride back to their camp. Gwayne watches her frame jostle with each movement from the horse, not missing the leering gazes sent to the Princess from the other riders.

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"Here lies the daughter of the whore of dragonstone! Her mother is a traitor to the realm and her daughter shall receive the full force of our army, as our rightful King wishes," Criston Cole cries, his voice echoing across the camp. Low mumbles echo across the still soldiers, various expressions crossing their faces. "The Princess shall remain here in our camp as our prisoner until the whore heels to our forces." At his decree, Gwayne takes stock of the soldiers exchanging worried glances - to take the Princess prisoner would incite the fury of the Black's dragons. And yet, he witnesses men smirk and mutter to their companions, believing the Princess would be passed around like a common whore for their pleasure.

His curt voice captures the camp's attention, "And what of their forces, my Lord Hand? Do you think us invincible against the fury of a dragon?" All attention turns to Gwayne, and Criston can barely contain his rage at the clear challenge to his authority.

"If the whore wishes her daughter to live then she will consider her actions," says the Dornish man smugly. The commander is pulled aside harshly by the Hightower knight, avoiding the prying eyes and ears of the camp. The soldiers were all too aware of the discord between the pair, for all had been subject to their quarrels.

"You cannot treat a Princess of the realm as a common prisoner, no matter the situation Cole," Gwayne grits out, tone exasperated as he speaks to the commander like a child. He watches the commander ponder his words silently for a moment. It is only when those brown eyes look up at him sparkling with mischief does Gwayne realise he may have fucked up.

"If you hold the girl in such high regard, then you may take her."

Criston could laugh at the expression that crosses the redheads face, the knight stunned into silence for once in his life. It's his sputtering questioning that prompts the Lord Hand to speak once more.

"She will stay by your side as your ward, your spoil, captive - whatever you wish to call it. Do what you wish with her, have your fun, just keep her alive." The Hightower does not miss the sinister insinuation from the other man, his jaw gritting at the notion, ignoring the twitch of his cock at the idea of the Princess under him. Gwayne goes to rebuke Cole's offer, only to witness him quickly turn and leave. He watches silently as Cole mutters to a soldier guarding the still unconscious Princess, motioning to Gwayne's own tent. Fuck. What was he meant to do with a captive Princess for the remainder of the war, he thinks. Surely her family would come for her.

And yet, the sinister, war-trodden part of Gwayne's psyche begins to consider the opportunity presented to him: a Princess practically given to him. He had been so lonely during their long campaign, so bereft with the losses his army had faced. Each and every day he watched as more men died needlessly for sordid family infighting, their bodies burnt to unrecognisable heaps. With each death, he felt his soul harden, or maybe it was just slowly dissapearing altogether. He felt he cared for little anymore, not truly. He kept his gentlemanly manners and yet, each interaction felt false and like a pantomime. As much as he wished to deny it, the Hightower would be lying to the Seven if he said he had not missed the warmth of female company that he denied when he took his oath. He was still a man.

As Gwayne watches the body of the Princess disappear into his tent, he wonders if the wretched Kingmaker had given him a blessing in disguise : A sweet Princess just for him.

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(Planning on writing a few more parts of this, but this is a longer version of a series of asks I submitted to @writingsofwesteros so please enjoy! Dark Gwayne is so enjoyable to conceptualise and truly I think he has so much potential.)

[heauxvibez]

Make A Movie

Warning: Smut (+18)

Baby, we don't need no script (Script) for this (For this) I'ma throw a couple thousand, baby, strip (Strip) for this (For this) Let me pull my camera out and make a (Movie, yeah) Starrin' (You and me, yeah)

Roman’s grip tightened on your face, his fingers pressing firmly into your cheek as he forced your gaze into the camera’s unblinking eye. He stood tall behind you, his bare chest brushing against your bare back, while you were positioned in front of the dresser. His black, wavy locs dangled over your shoulder, the ends lightly tickling your skin, adding an unexpected layer of pleasure. The soft, coconutty scent of shea moisture clung to his hair, filling your nostrils with a familiar, comforting fragrance that you loved because you also tended to use the same hair product.

You inhaled deeply, savoring it. His face was also nestled deep in your thick, curly 4b/4c fro, smelling that familiar scent of coconut. The soft coils brushed against his cheek as he moved, trying to maneuver around your hair. But even as he shifted, his lips brushing your ear, you could feel the smile tugging at his mouth. He loved the feel of your curls—how they surrounded him, a constant reminder of one of the many reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. The texture, the beauty, the wildness of them—it was all part of you, and it drove him wild.

Normally, in moments like this, your eyes would wander to your reflection, looking for his eyes in the mirror, enjoying the way he watched you. But tonight that wasn't the case—tonight, you were staring straight into the lens of a camera he’d proudly bought over the weekend.

He had gone on and on, boasting about the crystal-clear resolution, the sharpness of the image, and the way it captured even the smallest detail. You assumed he had purchased it for family gatherings, for special occasions, to create lasting memories. But now, it was clear—the memories he wanted to create weren’t the ones shared at celebrations. No, he wanted to capture every nuance of this moment. The deep richness of your melanin skin, glowing under the soft light. The way your eyes glistened as you silently begged for more, the camera drinking in every flicker of desperation. He wanted it all—the sharp clarity of your moans, how the sound of your voice would tremble and rise, your gasps and breaths recorded in perfect unison. The sighs, the whimpers, every surrendering sound was meant to be preserved, etched into the flawless quality of this new toy he was so proud of.

Your hands pressed flat against the cool surface of the black wooden dresser, fingers splayed wide as you struggled to stay still. The hand holding your cheek worked hard to keep you focused on the camera while the other—free from its task of forcing you to submit—was busy teasing your nipple, rolling it between his fingers with a touch that made your pussy throb with a crazy ache.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Roman was a craftsman who had learned all the ways to unravel you. He was cold and calculated, you could feel it with every brush of his fingers. He had watched the way you responded—the slight arch of your back, the soft gasps that escaped your lips when he touched the right spot. He could damn near bring you to insanity, making you drip with need, but he always kept you right there, hovering on the edge of sweet release.

The way his fingers teased your bud made your breath get lost in your throat, and your body trembled from all the emotions that you felt. He grinned as he felt your reaction, knowing that with every flick and tug, your body was begging him for more.

"You love this, don’t you? Love being right here, just about to break."

And it was true. You were soaked, every nerve tingled, with the feeling of being so close yet so far from release. But you knew he loved it too. Teasing you until your body was as wet as the ocean, leaving you desperate and shaking. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure for him though. As we all know, he thrived on controlling you, on watching you fall apart piece by piece under his touch.

But he also understood your love for submitting to him. He tended to you with all his might, fulfilling your wants and needs in ways that left you feeling cherished. Physically, mentally, emotionally, even financially—he cared for you in all the ways that mattered, even though you didn’t need him to. You carried your own weight, having a successful career, independent and more than capable. But something was irresistible about knowing you didn’t have to do it all alone. Just knowing that he was there, ready to support you without question, made you want to give yourself to him completely.

It wasn’t just his actions; it was the way he did it. The way he made you feel safe and seen, while still allowing you the freedom to be strong. That kind of devotion—selfless, yet confident in his role—was a complete turn-on. Pussy completely wet without question. It made you look forward to the moment when you could submit entirely, offering him everything he could ever ask for, knowing that he would take care of you in return.

The thought of it made you sigh deeply, in the best way of course—the idea of giving him all of you, letting him guide you, because you knew in your heart that you were safe in his hands. It was what made intimate moments special. He knew how much you craved his words, how much you needed to be talked through it, pushed toward the edge while he whispered in your ear. You wanted to be teased, denied, and kept in that delicious state of frustration, only to have him edge you over and over again. And when you could hardly take it any longer, when your body was shaking, he would finish you completely, making you surrender every single piece of yourself to him.

"Tell the camera what you want," he growled dangerously, his hand tightening around your nipple, the sensation somehow simultaneously sharp and sweet. While his other hand slid from your jaw to your throat, his fingers wrapping around you with just enough pressure to make you gasp. You could barely think, let alone speak, "Tell the camera how much you love it when I tease you. When I make you beg for it."

Your body was damn near burning, crying out for release, but you knew he wouldn’t give it to you until you asked for it—until you begged. And even then, he’d make you wait, because that’s how he controlled you, how he made you submit completely. He loved to hear the desperation in your voice, to see the way your body shook, and to know that he held all the power.

“I love it,” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as your body quivers. “Fuck, I love when you do this to me… when you make me beg for you.” The words tumble from your lips, barely a whisper as you could hardly form the words.

“Please Roman, I need you..so fucking bad..”

His hand slid lower, fingers trailing from your neck to your other breast savoring the way your body trembled under his touch. You could feel his body heat behind you, his scent and his presence wrapping around your senses. The breaths you took felt heavy, your lips parting as your gaze remained fixed on the camera.

"Look at you," Roman murmured in your ear. His right hand now pulling behind you to travel down the curve of your spine, resting on your waist as he pulled you back against him. His grip was strong, and you were caught between the camera’s cold, silent witness and his touch. "The camera loves you. I love watching you like this."

The camera’s lens seemed to drink in every bead of sweat forming on your brow and the goosebumps on your skin as Roman’s hands explored you. His fingers traced the contours of your hips before slipping between your thighs, teasingly slow. You gasped softly, your voice trembling into the quiet of the room.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your back. "I want you to make the kind of sounds this camera will never forget." he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You could barely hold back a moan as his fingers pressed deeper, setting a pace that left you breathless. Your body responded helplessly, hips rocking back toward him, wanting more contact. The camera captured it all—your movements, the flicker of need that crossed your face, the sounds that fell from your lips. Everything. And that's exactly what he wanted.

"There you go, that's Daddy's sweet girl.."

Leaning in closer, his mouth traced the sensitive skin of your neck. His fingers quickened their rhythm, and your fingers held on tighter to the dresser if that was even a possibility.

You whimpered his name, the tension coiling tighter inside you. Roman pressed closer, his lips brushing the delicate skin just beneath your ear, as your body arched against him, his muscles melting into the grooves of your own.

"That's it, let it all out." he coaxed, "Show the camera exactly how much you want it."

Roman's fingers played you like an instrument, and with every stroke, every flick, he pulled a new sound from you. Your world blurred as his words sank in, pushing you further into bliss. The sound of your moans filled the room and your gasps were captured perfectly by the camera's mic—your whimpers echoing in the silence. Roman's fingers pressed deep into your pussy, curling and grazing every part of your pussy that made you want to crumble and curl into a ball. You cried out, your pussy contracting around his fingers soaking them into the slick juices that he typically loved coating his tongue in.

As your body trembled in the aftermath, Roman leaned closer, "Perfect," he whispered, "Exactly what I wanted."

The camera blinked its final red light, sealing this moment. It was more than just a scene—it was a movie, starring only you and him.

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

Aw, this was better in my head lol

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @saintmagx @venusesworld

@mzv11 @tshepisho @cyberdejos2 @femdisa @dayaimonee

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ SWEET TALK. featuring choso.

↻ choso lives for one thing ; to make sure his precious girlfriend is never unsatisfied.

tags : cunniligus, dirty talk, body worship, male masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, mentions of face sitting, feral choso // wc. 0.7k

author's note : i lowkey wanna thank @toadtoru for sending in an ask about this before i even posted it, because i used some of those ideas to improve on this :3 in true homage to my username choso is a complete slut in this lolsies ;) one more to go and this event is finished, thanks for sticking around for THIS long i love everyone here >o<

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

if there’s one thing CHOSO firmly believes in, it’s that you aren’t just his girlfriend, but some supreme deity from heaven above. it sounds completely ridiculous, but he believes it more than anything, especially in moments like this. 

you just look so beautiful above him on the couch, thighs parted slightly and fingers caressing the sensitive mound in between your legs, head tipped back and lips parted in a silent ‘o’ as your toes curl into the carpet. angelic, he thinks, and he can’t wait to receive permission to touch you.

“choso…” your voice is smooth like butter yet sweet like caramel, and choso can feel his cock begin to press up against his slacks. “c’mere.”

yes. that’s all he needs before he’s eagerly crawling in between your legs to lap at your cunt, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he pulls them apart in earnest. “shit… missed me, did she?” his rambles are fueled by pure lust and delusion, and as he eats you out, choso begins to talk into your cunt. “missed her too… poor baby can’t go too long without her sweet boyfriend, huh…”

fingers tangle in his dark locks as you pull him closer, effectively muffling his ramblings by grinding your lower half on his tongue. the way he eats you out is feverish, his wet muscle alternating between your inflamed clit and pulsing hole interchangeably. and choso can’t help himself from getting fired up by your lewd display too, his own hips grinding down onto  the couch as he finds solace in between your legs. 

you, on the other hand, are positively reeling, legs twitching uncontrollably as choso continues to make a mess of your poor cunt. you wish you could return to him the same pleasure tenfold, but all you can do is sit and take it, helpless to his ministrations. “cho, cho, ‘s too much, baby, s-slow down…” 

begging is futile. choso is hypnotised, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head in an immediate reflection of your own reaction. “sorry baby, can’t, you taste s’good, don’t wanna…”

neither of you are in your right mind, but choso especially. when you cry out from orgasm for the first time, he barely takes note, his tongue on your clit never letting up as he brings two fingers to the entrance of your weeping cunt. the other hand previously on your thigh is now shoved into his boxers, and he’s fisting himself just as quickly as his fingers begin to plow your pussy. 

he’s killing you, but you love it. his brown eyes peek up in between your legs, and you just catch his expression, pupils dilated with lust as he watches you twitch above him. he mumbles something onto your clit before he’s licking and kissing it again, and you begin to think you might actually die. 

“c’mon, baby,” he groans, hips thrusting forward into his palm as he continues to eat. “c’mon baby, gimme another one– fuck, please, please…”

“choso, i can’t…” you truly believe that, given the way he’s already on his way to giving you another orgasm in the short span of five minutes. but he needs it so bad, needs you to cum for him so bad that he speeds up, thumb now joining his tongue to stimulate your clit in unison. “choso!”

“that’s it, baby, that’s it, oh, she’s close, isn’t she?” you can barely believe that he’s treating your pussy like its own person, but fuck is it turning you on. you hiccup pitiful whimpers as your thighs begin to tremble again, knees closing inwards and trapping choso’s head in between your legs.

if he were to die in this position, he wouldn’t mind. your release sprays his lips in repeated spurts, juices dribbling down his chin and some even dripping onto the flared head of his cock. it’s that which tips choso over the edge, and he’s spurting ropes onto the carpet, his own eyes finding the back of his head rapidly as his nose jerks against your clit.

“baby…” he stares down at the mess he’s made on the floor and then back at you, who’s laying spread eagle on the couch, chest rapidly rising and falling. “you gotta sit on my face next time.”

PREVIOUS : SURVIVAL ft. sniper mask NEXT : INKED ft. suguru geto

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© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 5

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 2.6k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 Possible Warnings: mingyu is not an idiot anymore. not descriptive sex but there’s sex. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​@ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear r , @lixisoul99 , @cherrylovescheol , @yuyu1024 , @tacolombe , @black-swan-blog27 , @tulipndtale , @xuimhao , @cookiearmy , @gyuguys , @brownbunnyb

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The opulent Grand Palais glittered under the Parisian night sky, its glass dome reflecting the stars above and the flashing cameras below. Paris Fashion Week was in full swing, and tonight's show was the most anticipated of the season. Mingyu adjusted his designer suit for the umpteenth time, still somewhat uncomfortable in the world of high fashion. But as the face of several luxury brands and with HHT's growing influence in the industry, his presence here was inevitable.

As he made his way down the red carpet, Mingyu couldn't help but feel a sense of unreality. Five years ago, he never would have imagined himself here, rubbing shoulders with the elite of the fashion world. The flashing lights and calls from photographers were familiar, but the context was all wrong. He was used to stages and concert venues, not runways and fashion shows.

"Mingyu! Over here!" "Kim Mingyu, who are you wearing tonight?" "Mingyu, is it true HHT is collaborating with Chanel for your next comeback?"

He answered the questions with practiced ease, his idol smile firmly in place. But inside, his stomach churned with anticipation. He knew she would be here tonight. Y/N. The woman he'd never quite gotten over, despite years of distance and silence.

As he entered the grand hall, Mingyu's eyes scanned the crowd. A mix of celebrities, designers, and industry insiders milled about, their chatter creating a low hum that filled the space. He nodded at a few familiar faces, exchanged pleasantries with a designer he'd worked with recently. But his attention was divided, always searching.

And then, he saw her.

Y/N stood across the room, and the sight of her knocked the breath from Mingyu's lungs. She was radiant in a sleek, black gown that shimmered with every movement, its high slit offering tantalizing glimpses of her leg. Her hair, longer than he remembered, was swept up in an elegant updo, exposing the graceful line of her neck. She was engaged in conversation with a group of admirers, her laugh carrying across the space. The sound made Mingyu's heart skip a beat, just as it had all those years ago.

For a moment, Mingyu forgot how to breathe. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, more poised, more confident. This wasn't the Y/N he'd known as HHT's manager. This was Y/N the successful entrepreneur, the fashion icon, the woman who had taken the beauty world by storm with her perfumes and skincare line.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N looked up. Their eyes met across the crowded room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The chatter faded away, the flashing lights dimmed. There was only Y/N, her eyes wide with recognition, a small gasp escaping her perfectly painted lips.

Mingyu watched, his heart pounding, as Y/N excused herself from her group and made her way towards him. Each step she took seemed to last an eternity. He felt rooted to the spot, his pulse quickening with every click of her heels on the marble floor.

"Mingyu," she said, her voice soft but clear above the ambient chatter. "It's been a while."

Hearing her say his name again after so long sent a shiver down Mingyu's spine. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "Y/N," he breathed, drinking in the sight of her. "You look... amazing."

A slight blush colored her cheeks, and Mingyu was struck by how familiar that look was. For a moment, he saw a flash of the Y/N he used to know, the one who would get flustered when he complimented her backstage after a show.

"Thank you," she said, her composure quickly returning. "You're not looking too bad yourself. I see the fashion world has embraced you."

Mingyu chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More like they've tolerated me. I still feel a bit out of place at these things."

"Could have fooled me," Y/N replied with a small smile. "You look like you belong here."

They fell into an awkward silence, years of unspoken words hanging between them. Mingyu's mind raced, trying to find the right thing to say. Should he mention her perfume? Ask about her business? Apologize for the years of distance?

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Congratulations on 'Solène.' It's... quite a name."

Y/N's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion. Was it sadness? Regret? Or was he just projecting his own feelings onto her? "Thank you," she said after a moment. "I heard 'Shadow' is topping charts worldwide. Seems we're both doing well for ourselves."

The tension was palpable. Mingyu was about to speak, to say something, anything to break through the wall of politeness between them, when a waiter approached with a tray of champagne. They both reached for a glass, their fingers brushing momentarily. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through them both, and Mingyu saw Y/N's eyes widen slightly at the contact.

"To success," Y/N said, raising her glass, her voice slightly breathless.

"To old friends," Mingyu countered, clinking his glass against hers. He held her gaze as they drank, searching for any sign that she felt the same turmoil he did.

As the night wore on, Mingyu found himself gravitating towards Y/N again and again. They made small talk with other guests, posed for photos, applauded the runway shows. But always, his eyes would seek her out in the crowd, and more often than not, he'd find her looking back.

One drink led to another, and soon they found themselves slipping away from the main event, seeking a quieter spot to catch up. They ended up in a secluded balcony overlooking the Parisian skyline, the Eiffel Tower glittering in the distance.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Y/N said, leaning against the railing. The soft breeze played with a few loose strands of her hair, and Mingyu had to resist the urge to tuck them behind her ear.

"Yeah," he agreed, though his eyes were fixed on her profile rather than the view. "Beautiful."

Y/N turned to him, a knowing smile on her lips. "You're not even looking at the skyline, are you?"

Caught, Mingyu felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Can you blame me? The view right here is much more captivating."

Y/N laughed, the sound sending warmth spreading through Mingyu's chest. "Still the smooth talker, I see. Some things never change."

"Some things do," Mingyu said softly. "You've changed. You seem... happier. More confident."

Y/N's smile softened. "I am. This life, this career... it's everything I ever wanted." She paused, her eyes searching his face. "What about you, Mingyu? Are you happy?"

The question caught him off guard. Was he happy? He had fame, fortune, adoring fans. HHT was more successful than ever. But standing here with Y/N, he realized there had always been something missing.

"I thought I was," he admitted. "But seeing you again... I'm not so sure anymore."

The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions. Y/N took a step closer, close enough that Mingyu could smell her perfume – "Barely Yours," he realized with a start.

"Mingyu," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did we let so much time pass? Why did we stop talking?"

Mingyu's heart raced. This was it, the moment he'd both longed for and dreaded. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I guess we both got caught up in our own worlds. It was easier to focus on work than to face... whatever this is between us."

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I've missed this," she said softly. "I've missed you."

Those words broke something in Mingyu. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them, cupping Y/N's face in his hands. "I've missed you too," he whispered. "So much."

Their lips met in a kiss that was five years in the making. It was soft at first, tentative, both of them unsure. But then Y/N's arms wound around Mingyu's neck, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened. Years of pent-up emotion and desire poured out, leaving them both breathless and wanting more.

When they finally broke apart, Mingyu rested his forehead against Y/N's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment. "What are we doing?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

Y/N's fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I don't want to stop."

Mingyu pulled back slightly, searching her eyes. "Y/N, I-"

But she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Not here," she said. "My hotel is just around the corner. We can... talk there."

The implication in her words was clear. Mingyu swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Are you sure?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady despite the flush on her cheeks. "I've never been more sure of anything."

The walk to Y/N's hotel was a blur. Mingyu was hyper-aware of her hand in his, of the way her dress shimmered under the streetlights, of the anticipation building with each step. They barely made it into the elevator before he was kissing her again, pressing her against the mirrored wall as her hands fumbled with his tie.

As the hotel room door closed behind them, Mingyu felt his heart racing. He couldn't believe he was here, with Y/N, after all this time. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light across her features, making her look almost ethereal.

"Y/N," he breathed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you sure about this?"

In response, Y/N stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. She placed a hand on his chest, and Mingyu was sure she could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she whispered, echoing her words from earlier.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and thrillingly new. Mingyu's hands found their way to Y/N's waist, pulling her closer. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, igniting memories of stolen moments from years past.

As they made their way towards the bed, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of surreality. Here he was, with the woman he'd never quite gotten over, the one who had haunted his dreams and inspired countless songs. His fingers trembled slightly as he unzipped her dress, revealing smooth skin that he'd thought he'd never touch again.

"You're shaking," Y/N murmured, her eyes searching his.

Mingyu let out a shaky laugh. "I just... I can't believe this is real. That you're here, that we're..."

Y/N silenced him with another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "It's real," she assured him between kisses. "We're real."

As clothing fell away and they tumbled onto the bed, Mingyu took a moment to simply look at Y/N. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, her body a canvas of soft curves and elegant lines. He traced a finger along her collarbone, marveling at the way she shivered at his touch.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I've missed you so much."

Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I've missed you too, Mingyu. More than you know."

What followed was a rediscovery of each other, a dance of passion and tenderness. Mingyu kissed every inch of skin he could reach, relearning the map of Y/N's body. Her sighs and soft moans were music to his ears, more beautiful than any song he'd ever written.

As they moved together, Mingyu felt overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions. This was more than just physical attraction; it was a reconnection of souls that had been apart for far too long. He poured years of longing, of regret, of unspoken love into every touch, every kiss.

"Y/N," he gasped as they neared their peak. "I lo-"

But she pressed a finger to his lips, shaking her head slightly. "Not now," she whispered. "Just feel."

And so he did, losing himself in the moment, in the warmth of Y/N's embrace, in the perfection of their bodies moving as one.

Afterwards, as they lay tangled in the sheets, Mingyu traced lazy patterns on Y/N's bare shoulder. The reality of what had just happened was starting to sink in, bringing with it a mix of elation and uncertainty.

"What happens now?" he asked softly, voicing the question that hung heavily in the air.

Y/N was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "But can we... can we just have this moment? Before the real world comes crashing back in?"

Mingyu nodded, pulling her closer. As Y/N's breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep, Mingyu remained awake, his mind racing. He knew that morning would bring complications, questions, and possibly regrets. But for now, he allowed himself to simply be, holding the woman he loved in his arms, savoring a moment he'd thought would never come again.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the hotel room windows, rousing Mingyu from a deep sleep. For a moment, he was disoriented, but then the events of the previous night came rushing back. He turned to find Y/N still asleep beside him, her hair splayed across the pillow, her face peaceful in repose.

As he watched her sleep, a mix of emotions washed over him. Joy at their reunion, confusion about what this meant for their future, and a lingering fear that this might be nothing more than a one-night trip down memory lane. But underlying it all was a sense of rightness, as if a missing piece of himself had finally clicked back into place.

Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw Mingyu, a soft smile spread across her face. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," he replied, his heart swelling with affection.

They lay there in silence for a moment, the weight of their actions settling over them. There was no going back now. The question was, where did they go from here?

As the bustling sounds of Paris waking up filtered through the window, Mingyu knew they had a lot to talk about. The shadows of their past and the echoes of their promises hung in the air, waiting to be addressed. But looking at Y/N, seeing the warmth in her eyes and the soft curve of her smile, Mingyu felt a surge of hope.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever complications their night together might bring, Mingyu knew one thing for certain: he wasn't letting Y/N slip away again. They had been given a second chance, and this time, he was determined to get it right.

"Y/N," he said softly, reaching out to caress her cheek. "I think... I think we need to talk."

Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. "I know. But first..." She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Thank you for last night. For everything."

Mingyu loses his smile when Y/N seems to get ready to leave.

[rosenclaws]

Hi!!! I love your writing so much <3<3

I was wondering if you had any thoughts about taking Leopold's virginity? Because I saw you mention that you think he might be a virgin :))

HI YES I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS!!

This is with an afab!reader who is not a virgin in mind but no pronouns are used.

warnings: MINORS DNI!! oral (m and f receiving), soft sex, leo being a bit of a switch/sub

Leopold’s first time headcanons

Okay so Leo is a virgin but because he’s a prude or because there isn’t anyone who wants to sleep with him. I mean damn the first scene of the movie is girls basically fawning over him lol. I think he views sexual intimacy as something that needs to be cherished.

It should be something romantic. A true, deep connection between two people who have given their hearts to each other and Leo has never felt that way until you.

When it comes to Leo’s first time I think there's a lot of lead up. Like a nice dinner and a bath together maybeee. Candles, I mean the whole thing.

Its slow and sweet and a little awkward but the kind of awkward that makes the two of you laugh in each others arms.

You 100% suck him off to start. I mean he’s gorgeous, so pretty and handsome that he deserves to get his dick sucked u know what I’m saying.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands at all. Like he doesn’t know if he should touch you, touch himself. They keep moving. First they’re gripping the sheets, then they’re above his head clenching into fists, and finally you guide his hands to the sides of your head. Winking as you pick up your pace.

He also is a little loud. He tries at first to suppress his noises but he can't help it. His moans are heavenly. So desperate. He whimpers too btw. Like 100% that is a man who whimpers.

He doesn’t last long. Look Leopold is no stranger to. Getting himself off but this is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. So warm and wet and your hands are on his thighs and its a sensory overload that he can’t help but come hard in your mouth.

Even though it's his first time he really really wants to go down on you. He wants to make you feel good so badly. To make you moan because of him.

He's a little hesitant at first, not sure what to do but after some coaxing he dives right in. At first you think he's a dirty fucking liar about never doing this before because holy shit he is filthy without even trying.

Sloppy and wet and needy as hell as he buries his face in your cunt. He listens eagerly to all your instructions. What you like, what you don't like. He plans on studying you until he remembers every little thing that drives you insane.

HE LOVES TO BE CALLED A GOOD BOY!! I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He has a praise kink too. Loves to talk about how wonderful you are, how good you taste, how lucky he is. Oh my god call him a good boy and tug on his hair and he's a fucking goner.

"Such a good boy, so pretty."

He loves eating pussy btw. Like he's can't help himself and slowly humps the bed as he feels himself start to get hard again. He could live between your thighs.

Anyways when it comes to actually having sex you ride him for the first time. Wanting to give him nothing but pleasure. He watches with wide eyes as you sink down on his cock. He needs a second to just process it all. His arms wrapped around you, face buried in your chest as he slowly rolls his hips.

It's slow for the first time. You just riding him nice and slow as you whisper sweet things into his ear. He can't stop telling you how much he loves you. How happy he is. He can't get enough of you, especially when you moan his name. (He's def whimpering again)

After a little bit he'd switch positions to be on top. Missionary but he's got one leg hooked on his shoulder. His hips move slow but get harder with every thrust. Your nails dig into his back with every thrust and it turns him on a little more.

He's kissing every bit of skin he can while he's making love. He loves your neck. The whole experience is just overwhelming to him. It's amazing and wonderful but overwhelming. Every one of his senses are being overloaded with you and he can't get enough.

He makes sure you finish before he does of course. Asking you in a desperate tone what you need and how he can do it for you. Begging you to finish because he's going to explode soon.

"Please, please my love. Tell me what to do. Need to feel you."

When he finishes he (reluctantly) comes on your stomach, rolling over onto his back for a minute. He needs to catch his breath, a smile on his face that won't go away. He just feels completely blissed out.

When you try to move he stops you, wanting you to stay comfortable as he goes to get a towel to clean you up. Kissing every inch of you as he does so. Thanking you for this and telling you how much he loves you. He just can't help himself.

He falls asleep pretty quickly after. Holding you close in his arms as the exhaustion takes over.

It's a pretty soft and sweet first time, fueled by love. Leopold is gentle and kind and I think this is the perfect time to for him to show that in a more intimate setting.

Anyways I am obsessed with Leopold he deserves the world okay ty!!!

[steddiebang2024]

STEVE AND EDDIE MAKE A PORNO  |  Explicit  |  55k

Author: @hitlikehammers

Artist: @hagnoart

Beta Reader: @dontwasteyourchances

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, (background Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Nancy Wheeler/Barbara Holland, Jonathan Byers/Argyle; porn film scene pairings indicated in the relevant chapters)

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Chrissy Cunningham, Jonathan Byers, Barbara Holland, Argyle

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Nay: oblivious!BEST friends to lovers, Romcom, Porn, Y’know because shooting a porno is the orienting plot device, Humor, General Shenanigans, Coffee-related Innuendos Abound, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending (not THAT kind), (…okay also a lot of that kind because again: THEY ARE SHOOTING A PORNO)

Trigger Warnings: This fic is inspired by a film where the filming of a porno is a central plot device; sex positivity, orientation positivity, sex-and-pairings-for-aesthetic-appeal-NOT-for-endgame-purposes are the name of the game.

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

Unlikely but inseparable best-friends-since-middle-school Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson move in together after graduation and, honestly? Lead a semi-stable if generally-uneventful life (or not-entirely uneventful, fine, because Eddie takes personal offense to that characterization of anything involving himself): but they make a decent living as minimum wage grunts and they never starve, which of course counts as a win in late-stage capitalism. So what if it’s always been paycheck to paycheck and they’ve only just made it outside their hometown: they still do earn their paychecks, Eddie’s booking more weekend shows to pad his kinda-pitiful record store wages, the cafe Steve works at is expanding and a promotion to senior manager isn’t wholly out of the question, and they did make it out of their back-assward hometown, no matter how far they got. Most of all, through better or worse, bound thicker than blood: they’ve got each other. It’s not the life Steve was raised to expect, but it’s not one he’s trade for anything in the world. 

Which is still true when, due to a very unfortunate lack of communication—with good intentions! It honestly was all above-board and stupidly well-intentioned—they may have entirely unwittingly paved their way into bills-so-overdue-the-utilities-are-canceled. Like: bye-bye-water-mid-shower-canceled. 

Which: fucking late-stage capitalism. Ruining everything. 

And it is ruined: it’s the holidays, which means there are extra hours but they’re being vied for Hunger Games style, and the lack-of-heating thing’s going to be a real problem with the Midwest winter that’s creeping up quick. Basically: ‘up shit creek without a paddle’ is an understatement. 

But then, opportunity presents itself in the most time-honored of professions when they run into the shocker (or: not-really-a-shocker, dude was hella repressed) partner of a straight-laced douchebag classmate at their ten-year-reunion: an adult film star who reveals $100k could be within their grasps—bills paid, debt cleared, money to spare for the first time in forever—if the form of...well.

Shooting their own porno. 

So umm...fucking late stage capitalism? 

And honestly it’s a solid plan, despite being absolute insanity (though that’s honestly unsurprising because, again: nothing’s uneventful when Eddie Munson’s your best friend), but the question that rears its head ultimately isn’t one of revenue, but one they probably should have thought through a little harder from the get-go: when budget’s tight, cast is limited, and promotional value is crucial—alongside everyone banging everyone? 

You’re also probably gonna have to fuck your best friend on camera for cash in the process.

(Goddamn previously unrealized and unacknowledged feelings late stage capitalism, man. Fucks up everything.)

[witches-dream]

Imagine you have a son, and he's growing very disciplined, which is good, but he's very introverted, not really in a shut-in kinda way, he just seems very unapproachable to people, and he is, because he's just so serious all the time. Like you look at him and, yeah, he's gonna be great warrior, but you also wish that he could. Socialize a little?

So your son grows up and leaves to fulfill some kinda grand goal and you're like "ok, son", still kinda worried about him, but he's not your baby anymore, he can do what he wants. So he leaves and after a few days you hear this earth-shattering lightning strike, no storm before or after or anything, everybody is wondering what happened and if you'll all die soon. Nothing happens past that, actually, it feels strangely peaceful. So after a few days your son comes back and he doesn't look any different, but he has definitely changed in like a week or two that he was gone. So he says "father, I have defeated the black and white dragons". You're kinda shocked, but that explains the lightning strike and how everything went quiet after it, and your son is not one to lie, so you you say "oh, for real? neat". "They are not going to bother anyone anymore." Your son says in a solemn tone. Later, everyone celebrates but he doesn't come. You knock into his room, and, even through a closed door, you can feel some sort of power, warmth radiating from it. He opens the door and his sword looks... Different. First of all, it's much bigger. It has a completely different shape. And there's this... Purple gem on its handle and it's glowing brightly. Nobody in this village could've forged such an otherworldly masterpiece. So you ask "got a new sword, son?" He says "Yeah. It's a Soul Jam, actually." "A Soul Jam? Never heard of it." "I will tell you later."

He reluctantly agrees to join the celebration, but after a few weeks he leaves the village. He starts building a citadel, and walling off the coast of the Licorice Sea. People are already calling him Your Majesty, though he's slow on accepting that title. Many decades pass and you're so old you can't get out of the house on your own anymore. Your son visits and he looks the exact same as when he left. He takes care of you, with the same cold face he's always had, though his hands are warm and him just being there warms your heart. You strain your old and tired vocal cords to utter "I'm proud of you, son." He's silent, but he nods, and his long hair obscures his face, but you can imagine he's happy to hear that.

It's after you die that he accepts the throne, and the title of King that was decided by the people whose respect for him towered the mountains. And, as it turns out, your son is immortal now. And, through the years, through the decades and centuries and even millennia, he takes the utmost care of all his subordinates, he remembers every face of his every warrior and he etches out their names and immortalizes them and prays to them each day.

Your son does many great things, many heroic deeds. He defends the kingdom he founded with a resolution of a true warrior. Your son made friends. There's only four of them, they are heroes of their own lands just like him, so they're busy most of the time, but they go on adventures and they have fun once a couple of centuries. Your son also makes many mistakes, says things he deeply regrets. He has a son, and, even being thousands of years old, he still thinks of you and wishes he could be even half as great a father as you were.

Maybe sometimes your son wishes you were around to lend a word of advice, or to say "I'm proud of you" one more time. Other times, he's ashamed of a thought that you might be out there somewhere, watching him from the heavens and shaking your head in disapproval. You have no way of telling him you love him either way, with all his virtues and all his vices alike. What matters is that, in the end, your son overcomes all adversities and becomes a better person. He was given a unique chance in life: to have infinite time to learn, and he uses all that time to become a better person.

You have no regrets. You can rest peacefully, knowing you have raised a hero.

[menlove]

what do you think of paul’s relationship with maggie mcgivern? it’s one of the less talked about relationships he’s had

it's very interesting to me! i found myself deep diving on it for chapter one of i need you (never leave me alone)

some of the things that stand out about it to me are:

it's interesting how she talks about how most every time she hung out with paul, she was also hanging out with john. like it very much throws a wrench into the whole "they weren't even friends they didn't hang out with each other beyond business by those later years" thing some biographers parrot (& cynthia seemed to have believed)

along with THAT, she was also on the 1966 paris trip they took while john was filming how i won the war. she talks about how they laid on the grass looking at the eiffel tower together. and like. all that sort of makes me sit there and go "hmmmmmmmmmm" and ponder if they had a bit of a threeway going on lmao. i have like 0 evidence towards this beyond just the vibe i get when she talks about her relationship w john & paul while she was with paul but like.... it's super interesting bc john was so SO blatantly jealous of all of paul's other partners, but not maggie? and she also seems to be like really fond of john when she talks about him which. again. SUPER super different compared to literally every other woman in paul's life who basically goes "that guy fucking sucked, he was a menace, i don't get why paul was so into him" like..... maggie seemed to adore john right along with paul and i just look at that dynamic and go HM.

she was also one of the women paul asked to marry him (although apparently like in a very weird & vague sort of way) when he was freaking the fuck out in 1968 for No Apparent Reason

and there's a LOT of questions i have about his whole. showing up at her house the night before he married linda crying and not saying anything before leaving forever like ??????? what was THAT about? it's not like maggie was the one true love of his life or anything, i don't think he's ever talked about her, like. what the fuck was it abouttttt i'm so beyond curious

and then ofc he ghosted her and basically dropped her for linda around the summer of 68 without a proper breakup after she said no to marrying him which is super shitty. it's just interesting bc before that it seems like he treated her better than his other girlfriends & she has nicer things to say about him than like, francie or jane. but it still is very much like. he was using her in a deeply upsetting way and i wonder how she looks back on All That

edit: ope this is starting to get notes which i didn't expect it to so here's the source that i used when writing the fic that talks about her. it lists its own sources although not super thoroughly so- but i really don't think there'd be much reason to lie about a random paul gf so. take it w a grain of salt but also i'm inclined to believe it lmao

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

A deep dive into the subconscious mind :

Okay so I’ll be just explaining what I’ve read from the Book “The Power of the Subconscious Mind” by Joseph Murphy, this Book was Amazing, it had many success stories of people and many more.

If you want to read the whole thing of this book in the form of a PDF, well you will get it on this site.

The chapter of this post:

1. What is the subconscious mind?

2. What is the difference between the subconscious mind & the conscious mind?

3. How does the subconscious mind work?

4. What is the relation between the subconscious mind & the Law of assumption?

5. Success stories from the Book.

6. Answering some questions you might have.

Ⅰ. What is the subconscious mind?

The subconscious mind is the part of the brain that controls the aspect of your life 95% of the time. It's the most responsible part of your mind that controls your body, organs, heartbeat, and many more.

The subconscious mind isn’t logical, it’s completely blind and it doesn't argue, it just follows what you tell it to, what you believe so, it stores so many memories and information, and even the most bad ones that are stored deep beneath the mind.

“Your subconscious mind is like a huge memory bank. It permanently stores everything that ever happens to you, and its capacity is virtually unlimited.

By the time you reach the age of 21, you’ve already permanently stored more than one hundred times the contents of the entire Encyclopedia Britannica.

Under hypnosis, people can often remember, with perfect clarity, past events that happened many years before” from this site.

Ⅱ. What is the difference between the subconscious mind & the conscious mind?

The two-part of the brain have a Big difference between them, but they work in harmony — the conscious mind is what you are aware of, it is logical and rational, and with it you make decisions, solve, and think, and on the contrary of the subconscious mind which is illogical and irrational, it relies on the conscious mind, it does what you tell it to, let say the subconscious mind is like a servant working for a royal family, it just does what it tells it to, doesn’t argue, doesn’t have eyes, just obeys and start working, on the other hand, the conscious mind can be compared to the chief servant, overseeing and directing the actions of the subconscious mind and other faculties, the conscious mind’s role is to guide and protect the subconscious mind from harm.

Ⅲ. how does the subconscious mind work?

the subconscious works 24/7 it does not stop working, it’s responsible for your body's operation, it does not rest, it just keeps working until you die, it does work in mysterious ways, and nobody knows how, but it’s surely smart, it possesses an incredible intelligence, wisdom and many more than you can imagine.

an example by Joseph Murphy of how the subconscious mind works:

“You will perceive the main differences by the following illustrations: The conscious mind is like the navigator or captain at the bridge of a ship.

He directs the ship and signals orders to men in the engine room, who in turn control all the boilers, instruments, gauges, etc. The men in the engine room do not know where they are going; they follow orders. They would go on the rocks if the man on the bridge issued faulty or wrong instructions based on his findings with the compass, sextant, or other instruments. The men in the engine room obey him be-cause he is in charge and issues orders, which are automatically obeyed. Members of the crew do not talk back to the captain; they simply carry out orders.

The captain is the master of his ship, and his decrees are carried out. Likewise, your conscious mind is the captain and the master of your ship, which represents your body, environ-ment, and all your affairs. Your subconscious mind takes the orders you give it based upon what your conscious mind believes and accepts as true. When you repeatedly say to people, “I can’t afford it,” then your subconscious mind takes you at your word and sees to it that you will not be in a position to purchase what you want. As long as you persist in saying, “I can’t afford that car, that trip to Europe, that home, that fur coat or ermine wrap,” you can rest assured that your subconscious mind will follow your or-ders, and you will go through life experiencing the lack of all these things”.

“Your subconscious mind accepts what is impressed upon it or what you consciously believe. It does not reason things out like your conscious mind, and it does not argue with you contro-versially. Your subconscious mind is like the soil, which accepts any kind of seed, good or bad. Your thoughts are active and might be likened unto seeds. Negative, destructive thoughts continue to work negatively in your subconscious mind, and in due time will come forth into outer experience which corresponds with them.

Remember, your subconscious mind does not engage in proving whether your thoughts are good or bad, true or false, but it responds according to the nature of your thoughts or suggestions. For example, if you consciously assume something as true, even though it may be false, your subconscious mind will accept it as true and proceed to bring about results, which must neces-sarily follow, because you consciously assumed it to be true” by Joseph Murphy.

Ⅳ. what’s the relation between the subconscious mind & the Law of Assumption?

this is the most interesting part – the subconscious mind is the one responsible for bringing your manifestation/desire to fruition, BUT that requires you to change your mindset from “I can’t do this, I don’t deserve this, how am i supposed to have it” to “i can do this, I’m successful, I deserve my desires, I already have it”.

if you affirm that you won’t succeed then guess what? yeah duh you won’t, why? because you assumed so, you believed it, accepted it, then the subconscious mind started working on it, and it showed up in the 3d.

assumptions = reality.

Let me make you understand with an example:

let’s say you have an upcoming exam and you want to manifest good grades, so you study for the exam and affirm that you’ll have good grades.

you pass the exam and you wait for the results, when the teacher gives you your papers you see that you didn’t have a good grade, and your stupid self starts telling yourself “i knew it won’t work”, “i guess the law doesn’t work”, “why it didn’t work?” that THE BIGGEST STUPIDIEST MISTAKE YOU EVER MADE, don’t you understand that while you're saying this to yourself your subconscious is also listening? your subconscious doesn’t have eyes, it does not know what’s happening in the 3d.

so instead of seeing your bad grades on the paper and you start doubting yourself, take a deep breath and remind yourself of your power, and flip your thought against what your 3d is showing you saying “oh yeah i’m so happy! i did amazing this time on my exam! my parents are gonna be so proud of me!” that what persisting is, you continue being faithful and loyal to your assumption no matter what the 3d throw at you.

Ⅴ. success stories from the book:

number one:

• How he made his dream come true:

A movie actor told me that he had very little education, but he had a dream as a boy of becoming a successful movie actor. Out in the field mowing hay, driving the cows home, or even when milking them he said, “I would constantly imagine I saw my name in big lights at a large theatre. I kept this up for years until finally I ran away from home. I got extra jobs in the motion-picture field, and the day finally came when I saw my name in great, big lights as I did when I was a boy!” Then he added, “I know the power of sustained imagination to bring success.”

number two:

Last Christmas Eve a beautiful young university student looked at an attractive and rather expensive traveling bag in a store window. She was going home to Buffalo, New York, for the holidays. She was about to say, “I can’t afford that bag,” when she recalled something she had heard at one of my lec-tures which was, “Never finish a negative statement; reverse it immediately, and wonders will happen in your life.”

She said, “That bag is mine. It is for sale. I accept it men-tally, and my subconscious sees to it that I receive it.”

At eight o’clock Christmas Eve her fiancé presented her with a bag exactly the same as the one she had looked at and mentally identified herself with at ten o’clock the same morning. She had filled her mind with the thought of expectancy and released the whole thing to her deeper mind, which has the “know-how” of accomplishment.

This young girl, a student at the University of Southern California, said to me, “I didn’t have the money to buy that bag, but now I know where to find money and all the things I need, and that is in the treasure house of eternity within me.”

number three:

• How she restored her memory:

A woman, aged seventy-five, was in the habit of saying to herself, “I am losing my memory.” She reversed the procedure and practiced induced autosuggestion several times a day as follows: “My memory from today on is improving in every department. I shall always remember whatever I need to know at every moment of time and point of space. The impressions received will be clearer and more definite. I shall retain them automatically and with ease. Whatever I wish to recall will im-mediately present itself in the correct form in my mind. I am improving rapidly every day, and very soon my memory will be better than it has ever been before.” At the end of three weeks, her memory was back to normal, and she was delighted.

number four:

• How faith in your subconscious powers makes you whole:

A young man, who came to my lectures on the healing power of the subconscious mind, had severe eye trouble, which his doctor said necessitated an operation. He said to himself, “My subconscious made my eyes, and it can heal me.” Each night, as he went to sleep, he entered into a drowsy, meditative state, the condition akin to sleep. His attention was immobilized and focused on the eye doctor. He imagined the doctor was in front of him, and he plainly heard, or imagined he heard, the doctor saying to him, “A miracle has happened!” He heard this over and over again every night for perhaps five minutes or so before going to sleep. At the end of three weeks he again went to the ophthalmologist who had previously examined his eyes, and the physician said to this man, “This is a miracle!” What happened? This man impressed his subconscious mind using the doctor as an instrument or a means of convincing it or conveying the idea.

Through repetition, faith, and expect-ancy he impregnated his subconscious mind. His subconscious mind made his eye; within it was the perfect pattern, and imme-diately it proceeded to heal the eye. This is another example of how faith in the healing power of your subconscious can make you whole.

number five:

• His dream pharmacy became a reality:

Thirty years ago I knew a young pharmacist who was re-ceiving forty dollars a week plus commission on sales. “After twenty-five years,” he said to me, “I will get a pension and re-tire.”

I said to this young man, “Why don’t you own your own store? Get out of this place. Raise your sights! Have a dream for your children. Maybe your son wants to be a doctor; perhaps your daughter desires to be a great musician.”

His answer was that he had no money! He began to awaken to the fact that whatever he could conceive as true, he could give conception.

The first step toward his goal was his awakening to the powers of his subconscious mind, which I briefly elaborated on for his benefit. His second step was his realization that if he could succeed in conveying an idea to his subconscious mind, the latter would somehow bring it to pass.

He began to imagine that he was in his own store. He mentally arranged the bottles, dispensed prescriptions, and imagined several clerks in the store waiting on customers. He also visualized a big bank balance. Mentally he worked in that imaginary store. Like a good actor he lived the role. Act as though I am, and I will be. This pharmacist put himself whole-heartedly into the act, living, moving, and acting on the assump-tion that he owned the store.

The sequel was interesting. He was discharged from his position. He found new employment with a large chain store, became manager, and later on, district manager. He saved enough money in four years to provide a down payment on a drugstore of his own. He called it his “Dream Pharmacy.”

“It was,” he said, “exactly the store I saw in my imagina-tion.” He became a recognized success in his chosen field, and was happy doing what he loved to do.

Number six:

• Boy of sixteen years turns failure into success:

A young boy who was attending high school said to me, “I am getting very poor grades. My memory is failing. I do not know what is the matter.” I discovered that the only thing wrong with this boy was his attitude, which was one of indifference and resentment toward some of his teachers and fellow students. I taught him how to use his subconscious mind, and how to succeed in his studies.

He began to affirm certain truths several times a day particularly at night prior to sleep, and also in the morning after awakening. These are the best times to impregnate the subconscious mind.

He affirmed as follows: “I realize that my subconscious mind is a storehouse of memory. It retains everything I read and hear from my teachers. I have a perfect memory, and the infinite intelligence in my subconscious mind constantly reveals to me everything I need to know at all my examinations, whether written or oral. I radiate love and good will to all my teachers and fellow students. I sincerely wish for them success and all good things.”

This young man is now enjoying a greater freedom than he has ever known. He is now receiving all “A’s.” He constantly imagines the teachers and his mother congratulating him on his success in his studies.

Number seven:

• Scientists Use the Subconscious Mind:

Many scientists realize the true importance of the sub-conscious mind. Edison, Marconi, Kettering, Poincarè, Ein-stein, and many others have used the subconscious mind. It has given them the insight and the “know-how” for all their great achievements in modern science and industry. Research has shown that the ability to bring into action the subconscious power has determined the success of all the great scientific and research workers.

An instance of how a famous chemist, Friedrich von Stradonitz, used his subconscious mind to solve his problem is as follows: He had been working laboriously for a long time trying to rearrange the six carbon and the six hydrogen atoms of the benzine formula, and he was constantly perplexed and unable to solve the matter. Tired and exhausted, he turned the request over completely to his subconscious mind. Shortly after-ward, as he was about to board a London bus, his subconscious presented his conscious mind with a sudden flash of a snake biting its own tail and turning around like a pin wheel. This answer, from his subconscious mind, gave him the longsought answer of the circular rearrangement of the atoms that is known as the benzine ring.

Number eight:

• How a distinguished scientist brought forth his inventions:

Nikola Tesla was a brilliant electrical scientist who brought forth the most amazing innovations. When an idea for a new invention came into his mind, he would build it up in his imagina-tion, knowing that his subconscious mind would reconstruct and reveal to his conscious mind all the parts needed for its manufacture in concrete form. Through quietly contemplating every possible improvement, he spent no time in correcting defects, and was able to give the technicians the perfect product of his mind. He said, “Invariably, my device works as I imagined it should. In twenty years there has not been a single exception.

Number nine:

• How a famous scientist and physicist escaped from a Russian concentration camp:

Dr. Lothar von Blenk-Schmidt, a member of the Rocket Society and an outstanding research electronic engineer, gives the following condensed summary of how he used his subcon-scious mind to free himself from certain death at the hands of brutal guards in a Russian prison camp coal mine. He states as follows:

“I was a prisoner of war in a coal mine in Russia, and I saw men dying all around me in that prison compound. We were watched over by brutal guards, arrogant officers, and sharp, fast-thinking commissars. After a short medical checkup, a quota of coal was assigned to each person. My quota was three hundred pounds per day.

In case any man did not fill his quota, his small food ration was cut down, and in a short time he was resting in the cemetery.

“I started concentrating on my escape. I knew that my subconscious mind would somehow find a way. My home in Germany was destroyed, my family wiped out; all my friends and former associates were either killed in the war or were in concentration camps.

“I said to my subconscious mind, ‘I want to go to Los Angeles, and you will find the way.’ I had seen pictures of Los Angeles and I remembered some of the boulevards very well as well as some of the buildings.

“Every day and night I would imagine I was walking down Wilshire Boulevard with an American girl whom I met in Berlin prior to the war (she is now my wife). In my imagina-tion we would visit the stores, ride buses, and eat in the restau-rants. Every night I made it a special point to drive my imaginary American automobile up and down the boulevards of Los Angeles. I made all this vivid and real. These pictures in my mind were as real and as natural to me as one of the trees out-side the prison camp.

“Every morning the chief guard would count the prisoners as they were lined up. He would call out ‘one, two, three,’ etc., and when seventeen was called out, which was my number in sequence, I stepped aside. In the meantime, the guard was called away for a minute or so, and on his return he started by mistake on the next man as number seventeen. When the crew returned in the evening, the number of men was the same, and I was not missed, and the discovery would take a long time.

“I walked out of the camp undetected and kept walking for twentyfour hours, resting in a deserted town the next day. I was able to live by fishing and killing some wild life. I found coal trains going to Poland and traveled on them by night, until finally I reached Poland. With the help of friends, I made my way to Lucerne, Switzerland. “One evening at the Palace Hotel, Lucerne, I had a talk with a man and his wife from the United States of America. This man asked me if I would care to be a guest at his home in Santa Monica, California. I accepted, and when I arrived in Los Angeles, I found that their chauffeur drove me along Wilshire Boulevard and many other boulevards, which I had imagined, so vividly in the long months in the Russian coalmines. I recognized the buildings, which I had seen in my mind so often. It actually seemed as if I had been in Los Angeles before. I had reached my goal.

“I will never cease to marvel at the wonders of the sub-conscious mind. Truly, it has ways we know not of.”

Number ten:

• How archaeologists and paleontologists reconstruct ancient scenes :

These scientists know that their subconscious mind has a memory of everything that has ever transpired. As they study the ancient ruins and fossils, through their imaginative percep-tion, their subconscious mind aids them in reconstructing the ancient scenes. The dead past becomes alive and audible once more. Looking at these ancient temples and studying the pottery, statuary, tools, and household utensils of these ancient times, the scientist tells us of an age when there was no language. Communication was done by grunts, groans, and signs.

The keen concentration and disciplined imagination of the scientist awakens the latent powers of his subconscious mind enabling him to clothe the ancient temples with roofs, and surround them with gardens, pools, and fountains. The fossil remains are clothed with eyes, sinews, and muscles, and they again walk and talk. The past becomes the living present, and we find that in mind there is no time or space. Through disci-plined, controlled, and directed imagination,you can be a companion of the most scientific and inspired thinkers of all time.

Ⅵ. Answering some questions you might have:

Can i command my subconscious mind to induce me into the void state Aka "pure consciousness" ?

Yes you Can! You Can even tell it to bring you your desires, just Say "subconscious mind, i command you to induce me into my pure consciousness instead of sleeping".

I want to manifest my desire but i don't know how it will happen?

Don't worry, your subconscious will find any way to bring your desires, just relax and trust it.

Can i use my subconscious to bring me Ideas in writing/drawing/crafting?

Yes! Just tell it to, it may Come to you in a dream or in a flash of an idea.

Can i command my subconscious to make me successful or achieve something?

Yes you Can! You Can literally make your subconscious do anything you want, even bringing your desires.

Do i need to script or write in details what i want?

Well if you want to script in details because you want to, then feel free to do it! But you really don't need to, cause you're subconscious is smart and it is literally you so it knows what you want even when you don't mention it.

Do i need to list every single desire when i am in my pure consciousness?

No lol, you Can just visualize or just Say "i already have my dream life" or "i have my desired list".

Can i recall past memories that i don't remember?

Yes you Can, just tell your subconscious to make you remember them.

Do i really need to reprogramme my subconscious to shift or induce my pure awareness?

Well..i don't think so, that my belief, but it's not necessary, cause i think this is just a limiting belief and it's not true, it's all based on your assumptions, you don't need to reprogramme it, your subconscious is more than smart, it's incredible that it is the only part of the human that the scientist can't figured it out.

Things to remember:

Your subconscious mind is like a powerhouse, it restores many memories, informations, and many more.

Your subconscious mind is sooo smart and has an Infinite intelligence that you're not aware of.

Your subconscious mind start working on bringing your desires the moment you want it or affirm for it.

Your subconscious is blind, it just rely on you (it doesn't know what happening in the 3d).

You Can get answers to your problems through your subconscious mind.

Want Ideas? Don't know what to write for your novel or story? Don't know what to paint/draw? Just Ask your subconscious and it will surely give you the answer.

Want to meet your dream partner? Owning 3 mansion? Just affirm and persist and your subconscious will find a way to bring you your desires.

You Can recall past memories, Dreams, or your shifting experience by just asking your subconscious to make you remember them.

Final note: anyway, i Hope this post was hopeful for you all, the Book opened my eyes, i learned ALOT, and it was very helpful, the subconscious mind does work in mysterious ways and it is just incredible, and i Hope i cleared some limiting beliefs you had about the subconscious mind, i really recommend Reading the Book or the pdf, you will thank me later 😉.

Xoxo, Eli

[clawsdevour]

want to know all of you

wc: 1.9k content warning: hinted established relationship, smut, insecure reader x hoshiumi, creampie, oral w!receiving, not proofread

ㅤ۫ㅤ⠀⠀ ◌ 𓈒

“..Do you really want to do this?” huffing through Hoshiumi’s heavy pants that lingered trickles of hot air in the crook of your neck.

His wet sloppy kisses remaining on the surface of your skin, reflecting in the moonlight illuminating through the curtains. His murky light eyes gazing at you in desire, cheeks dusted with a slight pink hue.

His heavy body hovering just slightly above you, your hands wrapped his thick and toned neck. Swallowing hard, you nod sheepishly. You’ve been dating Hoshiumi Korai for a while, his cute gestures of love always wow you in a way you felt like you needed to reward him at certain times. Sometimes you found yourself wanting more than just a frisky make out session, but you’ve never fiddled around with him like this before.

“Of course I do if it’s with you, Korai” pulling him away from your neck for just a second, exchanging a deep sensible glance to show you meant what you said. Completely breathless, his timid vulnerable self showing up on his face as he subtly bit down on his lower lip from excitement.

Nuzzling his nose back into your warm neck, you feel him mouth the words, ‘I love you so much,’ before sucking on your skin, leaving behind his bright red mark. His lips continue smooching your ticklish neck, gradually moving lower to your defined collarbone. The foreign sensation on your bare heated skin due to his tongue made you squirm under his touch.

“You smell so good babe,” pressing the tip of his nose onto you, half lidded light eyes peering up to sneak a quick glance at your flustered facial expressions to savor the moment.

A hand worked its way up under your thin tank top, pulling the hem of the fabric up with it. Shuddering at the cool air combined with his hot palms that rubbed against the sides of your torso to calm you. The feeling of embarrassment started to creep up the further his hands dragged your top up, exposing your bright pink bra that you wore before heading over to his house.

“Oh- ignore this.. I kinda just threw it on,” you spurted out, trying to cover your bra that his eyes couldn’t take off. 

“Ignore what? I think it looks cute on you..!” Hoshiumi intimately said full of genuineness, his hands just slightly above yours. 

Accepting his true words, your back is just slightly a few inches above the mattress. His fingers helping you unhook the back of your bra, thoughts full of negativity imagining what he’d think about your body. You slowly drop your undergarment, showing him the valley of your breasts. Rosy nipples freshly perked up from being released.

His eyes slightly widened as this was the first time seeing you without anything covering the chest he loves to dive head first into so much. Groping a breast in one hand, fiddling with your tiny but hard nub that sent waves of stimulating pleasure. Your other nipple being caressed by his hot and wet tongue that latched itself onto you the moment he saw it. Flicking the organ till it’s at its full hardness, sparking further arousal that made you rub your thighs together under him. 

His mouth moved further down like before. His slow and sensual marks were scorching hot and sloppy this time, as if he was branding the surface of your skin with his slightly swollen lips. The more he lowered himself on your body, the more ticklish it got as you tried to suppress your moans.

“You can moan.. Makes me know how good I make you feel” fixing his eyes on you once more when realizing why you were so discrete. Having your hands clasped over your mouth, you nod, inching them away from your face and onto the bed sheets.

Carrying on, Hoshiumi lifts himself up from your heat emitting body for a moment. Taking off his shirt, you see his muscular figure flicker around in the ambient light as he shuffled in front of you. Watching him gather by your legs, Hoshiumi’s trailing off your shorts by the sides of your waist band, lifting your legs to help him.

Left in nothing but your mismatched panties, you can’t help but feel a bit more humiliated than you were earlier. Not to mention, him still being clothed as he stripped you down article by article of clothing. The last thing to take off was your slightly damp panties. Sliding them off of you, you shut your legs tight together to try and not reveal your bare cunt.

“Do you need a break babe?” Hoshiumi questions in concern seeing how you’re suddenly reacting.

“No.. it’s just, a bit embarrassing to be seen naked. Especially since it’s our first time doing it together.. Y’know?” Mumbling under your low breath with your head lowered, trying to avoid contact.

Hoshiumi completely understands where you’re coming from. You both know that this’ll be the first time you guys will do it, but it won’t be the last. 

“I know what you mean.. But, really.. I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I ever laid my eyes on. I want to know all of you, inside and out..” Hoshiumi reassures you with confidence.

“Me too,” groaning whilst getting up from laying on your back, you give him a tight snuggly hug before you gradually took him down with you. 

Arms around his bare shoulders, skin on skin, before letting go followed by a gentle kiss you placed on his slightly puffy lips. Creating distance between your bodies, his hands leisurely start to spread your legs apart without your resistance despite you still being shy. 

Getting on his stomach, staring straight at your already wet pussy. His thumb brushing over your sensitive organ caused you to flinch. His hands grip onto the indentations of your hips before you felt a warm and sluggishly wet peculiar feeling on your clit that makes you subtly gasp. 

Hoshiumi’s eating you out, starting off at a consistently slow pace that has you spiraling the longer he took. Your body’s jolting up with every stroke made by the tip of his tongue as his hands forcibly kept your hips spread and tied down to the bed. His lips placed a few pecks here and there on your inner thighs whenever you started twitching uncontrollably. 

The noises you let out kept him going, not to mention, something growing. With the amount of arousal pooling in the pits of your stomach, the buildup had your breathing all raggedy and inconsistent the more he licked and swirled his tongue on your swollen clit. 

“Wait! I might.. Cum!” you said in between moans, tugging at his short white hair. 

Picking up the pace till you reached your climax, he’s going all out and slurping up all your juices until you came on his tongue. Unleashing your fluids that he drank up, you needed a moment to recover as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

His figure towered over you as you laid. Hoshiumi began to take off his shorts, then his boxers, revealing to you his cock that you’ve thought about since day one. It stood tall in all its glory, a bit of precum leaking from his mushroom tip. 

Before he spoke a word, he was also terribly out of breath to say anything. Fighting for air to access his lungs, a bit too delighted from the pent up erectness, he purred otherwise.

“Are you ready?” he tried to whisper, stroking his cock, base to tip.

Gulping down through inconsistent breaths, you nodded into your pillow.

“Yeah.. I think so,” watching him through the slope of your chest that heaved up and down with each puff you took.

Lining himself up through your folds, the tip of his cock sinking its way through. Fingers wrapped around the back of your knees, his soft kisses making contact with your tender muscles. The size of his girth felt as if it were splitting you open, the feeling starting to show on your face the more he buried himself into you.

“It’s all in. How do you feel?” trying his best not to move as much.

“S’good.. And full” placing your hand on the bottom of your stomach, trying to figure out where his cock went inside you.

Your pussy’s clamping onto him like no tomorrow trying to mold itself to the size of his girth, almost sucking onto him bone dry. Expanding the inside of your sopping cunt that cried out in pleasure, allowing you time to adjust before moving. Hoshiumi’s mind is going crazy with your plush walls pulsating around him.

“..Can I move?” a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead trying to suppress the overwhelming stimulation. 

“Go slow,” allowing him your permission to move, he does so. 

Moving at a turtle’s pace, he pulls back to reveal the glistening sheen later of fluids on his cock just to be shoved right back in. Yelping after the first thrust, holding onto his toned arms as he continued. When your cunt started getting the hang of his consistency, it drooled for more action.

The delicious friction and heat increasing between you two not only drove you two mad, but also aroused more sparks. The insecurity you had dissolved away the more his cock plunged into you. The stimulating pleasure that just so continuously grazes over your bundle of nerves has you moaning for more.

Your stomach fluttered and contracted against his cock that throbbed inside your walls. The sounds started to become inaudible the more you groaned and mumbled the words out of your mind, relieving your pent up sexual desires you’ve been dreaming about run loose. 

The more Hoshiumi picked up the pace, the louder the skin on skin slapping became and mixed in with the moist and squelching noises that increased between your sobs. His gruntings soon became praises, telling you how good you take him, how proud he is of you, and how good you feel inside.

Digging deeper within each thrust, he inches closer towards the nether regions of your stomach. Creating further stimulations, you feel a subtle build up that could be released at any time the more he plunged his cock into you.

At this point, his tip is burning a hot fiery pulse that you could feel throb while he marks your pretty cunt with his imprints. Nearing his release before you, he still continued to satisfy you before he could satisfy himself. Your moans were music to his ears urging him to continue. The visuals of your breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust, he just couldn’t bare with it for any longer.

“Feel so good babe, might just cum inside..” he smickered playfully, seeing your tired expression widen in surprise when his cock twitched.

“Cum in-! Inside me!” feeling that rope tug and snap, you came right before he was about to. Creaming all over his cock, rimming the base of his dick with a milky white froth. 

Totally out of it, until you felt a warm liquid gush into your quivering plush walls. Filling you up with his milky fluids that trickled out of your gaping hole that cried for more. Pulling out, as if taking out a plug that gushed out his essence that mixed with yours.

“You look beautiful like this..” eying the scene of his cum flow out of you.

masterlist here