#and I don't get the same satisfaction of sharing it either

[reiteka]

Denial

I don't really do this but since I was forced to get tumblr I figured I may as well put this up here. Just a Human Alastor x Reader type thing. Murder involved, marriage of convenience, female reader, passive? reader (it's mainly Alastor's thoughts so reader doesn't do much in the fic). --- means insert whatever name you want. I haven't proofread this in a long time so expect mistakes. This is 1 of 2 Alastor X Reader fics I've done so let me know if anyone wants the other one (Also never posted on tumblr before and don't know how it works).

...

Alastor didn’t love his wife.

Being best friends since they were young girls, Alastor and ___ mothers had treated one another like sisters, spending all their time together and even giving birth within the same year to their respective children. How ecstatic they were when one had a boy and the other a girl, how darling it would be if the two would conform to the classic romantic trope of developing from childhood friends to star-crossed sweethearts. Fortunately, for their mothers, they did marry but not due to their fondness of each other. Alastor and ___ didn’t love each other, but they didn’t hate each other either. They married to not only make their mothers happy but also out of convenience, to cease the unwanted advances of the opposite sex and to silence the needless prattling of others with their incessant questions or assertions of ‘when are you getting married?’ or ‘still single at your age?’ or the most repulsive of all ‘your biological clock is ticking dear’.

Though they were married, and to the outside world a happy couple, they lived as strangers. They shared one roof but slept in separate beds, in separate rooms, at separate ends of the house. They had dinner together, engaged in conversation about how her day was or how his radio show was faring or about the recent killings and disappearances taking place. And although they generally enjoyed the other’s company, there was an undeniable line that would never be crossed, an unspoken agreement that they would only ever be acquaintances and never entertain the thought of giving into the charade they had concocted to fool their family and friends. Alastor respected such an agreement and in no way did he want it to change.

Alastor didn’t love his wife.

So, when he met the young lad from the bookshop, he didn’t feel anything towards the boy. He didn’t flinch when the blonde’s demeanor brightened like a mutt whose owner had returned home to play with him. He didn’t stiffen at the genuine smile that slipped easily onto his wife’s face when greeting the boy manning the counter, a smile he had spent hours rambling out perfected jokes in an attempt to receive a mere glimpse of, to spy the miniscule curling of her lips, given to him not out of politeness but out of genuine joy.

‘A pleasure to be meeting you my good man! The name is Alastor, yes the one from the radio show. Many thanks for always assisting my lovely wife here in her literary endeavours.’ When he wrapped an arm around her waist and introduced himself, it was because of his duty to fulfill his responsibilities as her husband, not because he enjoyed the look of shock and heartbreak creeping onto the boy’s visage. He took no satisfaction in the way the boy withered under his stare as if shrinking in on himself, both from Alastor’s intimidating aura and his place at the woman’s side.

He didn’t follow his wife around the shop to dissuade the boy from talking to her, he was just interested in finding out what books his wife was currently reading. And yes, his smile did seem rather strained and his eyes quite murderous when the boy happened to glance over in their direction, but it was not an intended hostility, the boy was simply paranoid and misconstrued the polite and friendly stare Alastor was directing at him. He didn’t try and pry information out of his wife later at dinner because he felt threatened in any way, because he didn’t like the way she giggled when the boy made a feeble attempt at an ill-advised pun. He just wanted to know who he was and how often she talked to him and what she thoug̸h̴t̷ ̶o̷f̴ ̸h̸i̵m̴ a̴n̴d̸ ̵i̸f̷ ̸s̶h̵e̷ ̵t̵h̷o̵u̸g̸h̶t̵ ̵h̵e̸ ̴w̸a̸s̸ ̸c̸u̸t̷e̴ ̴̞̍͌͝͝ö̸̩́ŗ̵̟̾͐́̂ ̷͉͙͑h̵̛̘̹̬͑͊̔̎̂a̴͉̥̓n̴̝̯̬̿̋͑d̸̲̱̬͎͉̀̋̈̎̆ş̷̺͙̺͗̀̈̃̄ͅo̶̖̮͐̽̐̑̆̍m̴͖͕̼͈͋̓͗̒ḙ̴͂ ̸̣̙̂o̵̳͗͛̆͗̋ṛ̸͉̯͑͗͐ ̵̭̳̭͕͇͑̇f̸̻̺͙̰̐ű̵̧̫͎̜̥̹̈́ṋ̶̮̀n̶̞̞̐̋̈͐͠ỉ̶͔̦̝͎̱̬̋̽̄͐͠ȩ̷̘̫̩͖͂̇r̷͎̤̒͐ ̴̫̯̺̮̄̈́͘̚o̷͖͙͓͗̅͐̂̕̚ṙ̴̻͓̼.̸̡̞̇.̶̦̇̇̃́͑

He was just curious, and his distaste for the boy had nothing to do with the blush that coated his wife’s face when the boy gave her a forlorn goodbye and wished her the most pleasant evening in the world. As if her evening wasn’t already perfect with Alastor by her side!

Alastor didn’t love his wife.

He was just tired of the bakery he frequented when his show ended or when he took one of his infamously rare lunch breaks. It just so happened that the new café that had taken his fancy was coincidently located across from the same bookshop where his wife would make a near-daily trip to with the goal of perusing their rather limited stock. His face never darkened, his smile never turned sinister because of jealousy or some other Neanderthalic emotion when he witnessed their interactions, he simply found it disgraceful how shamelessly the boy acted towards a married woman. He didn’t absolutely loathe the fact that his wife was giving attention to someone other than himself, someone completely undeserving of such an affectionate gaze and her indulgence of idle, mindless chatter. Of course, it wasn't her fault, she had always been oblivious to the advances of others who sought to captivate her with tainted promises of friendship while hiding their heinous desires for more intimate relations. It was his job really, as her husband to remove such scum from her periphery, to exterminate the uncultured and salacious boy that couldn’t understand nor respect the simple fact that should have been glaringly obvious by now: ___ belonged to Alastor.

Alastor didn’t love his wife.

He was simply looking for another meal that catered to his...unique palate. It was pure coincidence that he happened past the bookshop which was known for staying open late into the night. It was a coincidence that the boy happened to be closing up, that Alastor happened to be late in finishing up his show that night and that it just happened that not a soul occupied the usually bustling street. It wasn’t that Alastor wanted to prolong the boy’s suffering. Sure, he may have offered the boy several choices ranging from never talking to his wife again to leaving Louisiana altogether, despite knowing that no matter what option the boy chose Alastor was going to kill him regardless. And he may have let the boy run from him for five minutes before he got bored and knocked him to the ground, even though he could have caught up with him in a manner of mere seconds. And he may have allowed the boy a few curtesy blows before easily and pitifully overpowering him, taking no small amount of pleasure in how the hope that still lingered in the lad’s eyes seemed to diminish with the knowledge that the tall, lanky radio host was deceitfully stronger than he appeared. Yes, he did make the boy’s death as slow as possible, letting him bleed out rather than killing him straight away, mocking him the entire time, ingraining the fact that the boy had brought this fate upon himself for daring to covert what was Alastor’s. And he did inevitably choose to dispose of the body rather than contaminate himself with such an unappetizing individual, making it so that the only ones to see the boy again would be the maggots that made him their home. But it had nothing to do with ___.

With a lighter step, a jauntily whistled tune, and the sequel to his wife’s favourite novel tucked under his arm, Alastor made his way home, thoughts of how he could convince his wife to let him purchase her books so that she needn’t bother herself with leaving the house at the forefront of his mind.

Alastor didn’t love his wife...

But that didn’t mean someone else was allowed to love her either.

[mitamicah]

I see a lot of people have made covers of the snippet of Everybody's Waiting (the new JO track)

I may do it too but at the same time I am hesitant given that I am 90% sure they won't see it (since everything else I'd ever made have never been noticed by them - Bojan's big share yesterday included) and if by chance it is getting seen I am not sure how I'd feel having the first thing noticed by them be just another cover

I am probably overthinking things again

[jumbojazzcats93]

Perfect, Perfect, Perfect - Ghost

Summary - DOD contracted civilian is perfectly confident and brooks no nonsense at work, but when she hooks up with Simon not knowing it's Ghost, he gets whiplash seeing her other side.

Tags/Warnings - noncanon, 18+ MDNI, divider by @/cafekitsune @glossysoap @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @quietlyignoringyou @ivymarquis @grizzersmamma @gremlingottoosilly @ghastlybirdie

"Sir, I'm not the one drawing up the CONOPs, and even if I was, arguing with me would not change any of the things outlined in them."

Ghost could hear her from his office across the hall; prickly and stern. A platoon leader from another section had come in about 5 minutes ago, guns blazing and irritation tainting the peaceful vibe of your space, demanding to speak with whoever put out "-That bullshit order to the distro." Ghost heard you try to be amicable at first, only to then get steamrolled by the captain in your office. He considered shutting his door. It was irritating listening to the prick complain, but the satisfaction of hearing you knock down someone so pompous was far greater.

Then came the angry and exasperating rhetoric of, "Well, what do you suggest I do about this than? Hm?"

"Well Sir, to be quite frank I don't really care, but I had assumed that at such a senior rank and with all the experience you boast of, that you could figure it out on your own." You aimed a rehearsed smile at him and folded your hands on your desk. Ghost leaned back in his chair, watching through the open doors and tapping his pen on his desk. Clicking his jaw shut, the captain silently glared at you for a moment before you gestured towards the open door with an elegant wave of your hand. A signal of 'you can go now' that caused an amused huff of air to escape Ghost's nose. Taking in a slow, deep breath, the captain turned and stomped from the room. Ghost just tracked him with his eyes as he turned down the hall and fled.

The deep sigh that emanated from your office had his eyes trailing back to your doorway. Whispered ranting and mockings of the bastard had Ghost fighting down a grin. You appeared in the doorway suddenly, looking at him with an incredulous look on your face and threw your hands in the air. He just shook his head in response. He didn't think either of you had ever actually said more than a few greetings to one another; you just shared silent exchanges like this one. Rolling your eyes, your hands flopped to your sides as you scoffed and stomped back to your desk.

So much attitude in that little head of yours.

Tinted lipgloss stuck to Simon's cock. Make-up tainted tear tracks stained your face from the way he was throat fucking you. He was gonna cum in the next 15 seconds if he didn't stop, so he squeezed the base of his cock and pulled you back by your hair with a breathy grunt. The way you looked up at him panting with a mix of drool and precum dripping down your chin made his cock throb dangerously. Your wet doe eyes and soft hands were not what he was expecting when he lied his way into your bed. At work you were known as a bitch. A hard ass, DOD contracted civillian brought in by Laswell to plan and track special forces missions and everything to do with them.

The image of the you from work crossed with the vision of you in front of him. On your knees with your head resting against his thigh as you looked up at him. You were the perfect image of a sweet and obedient little lover-girl tonight. He smoothed a hand over your hair, trailing it down your cheek until his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. Humming dreamily, your tongue laved at his thumb before he pressed it into your mouth. Your furrowed eyebrows were just so cute. He'd never be able to look at you the same after this.

"You want somethin' from me, lovie?", he teased, pulling his thumb away and replacing it with his cock. You nodded with a small, whiney, "Yes, please." "Open up, than greedy girl."

You stuck your tongue out, letting him smack his cock on it a few times before kissing and licking the tip. With one hand holding the back of your head, Simon carefully eased his cock into your mouth. You held fluttering eye contact as he slowly began thrusting faster; beginning to throat fuck you once more. His mean little coworker... seeing you so different out of your usual setting and the fact that he had been practically edging himself made quick work of him. A minute was all it took before he was pulling his cock from your mouth and jerking himself off as he came all over your face. He let you continue licking at his cock as he leaned against the wall, recovering.

Simon didn't even realize his eyes had closed, but at the sound of your pathetic little whimper they shot open. Hand between your legs, cheek resting against his thigh, you looked up at him with a sad little pout on your lips. "You're a good girl ain'tcha?" His hand caressed your hair while you nodded. "Don't worry, dove. I won't dare leave ya without a reward."

He guided you to the couch and had you on your back in an instant. With your legs pushed to your chest, your wet cunt was fully on display. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and dragged you toward the edge, closer to his face. His thumb lightly rubbed your clit making your whole body twitch. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, "Poor girl is so sensitive..." He gives your clit a wet kiss before laving his tongue along your cunt, eating you out. Your moans and squeaks had his cock stiffening again. He teased his two middle fingers into your cunt and watched your expression; carefully prodding until he saw your eyes heavily flutter and your skin flush a deeper shade. Simon pressed into that spot until your moans pitched higher and your thighs squeezed his head.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyes-" One hand pressed into your lower stomach while his other hand continued to fuck into you. He pulled his mouth from your cunt, leaving a string of spit and slick behind. You squealed, body flexing and squirming before your head fell back, squirting on his hand. He dove back in, letting you use his tongue to ride out the rest of your ogasm until you were whimpering and whining.

Simon grabbed you, readjusting you into a more comfortable position. Your fingers slid into his hair, lips brushing and eyes meeting. That soft, dopey look had him pressing in to kiss you; hand fisting into your hair, pulling your head back as he kissed down your neck. He used his other hand to wrap your leg around his waist. Feeling you cum on his fingers had his cock painfully hard again. Now it beaded precum as it rubbed against your slick cunt. Simon grabbed his cock and positioned it, slowly pressing into you and shushing you as you whined.

"Oh yeah...", he sighed. Your cunt was just as soft as you were right now. Your hand reached for his forearm and squeezed as he bottomed out. He ran his hand up your body, his gaze trailing it's path. The way your tits jiggled with his first few thrusts altered his path until he was groping and massaging your breast with one hand and gripping your hip with the other. You pushed your chest into his eager hand; your cunt clenching. The way your hips meet his every thrust... a secondary wave of arousal washed over him.

How could he ever look you in the eye after this? He'd never get another ounce of work done again with you around.

Pulling out, Simon flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you up onto your knees. For the first time, he noticed the tattoo on your back. What a little minx. His hand slid up your spine and he leaned forward to place a wet kiss against the inked skin. Suddenly his hand was gripping the back of your neck and shoving your upper body into the cushion. Whining with your face half in the pillows and pushing back into his hips, your ass rubbed up against his leaking cock. Simon chuckled deep in throat and squeezed the back of your neck. "You wanna take it so bad don't you?" Unable to nod, you whimper, "Yes, please." His free hand landed a sudden smack against your ass causing a gasp to tear from your throat. Hand smoothing over the stinging skin, he cooed at you.

Pulling his hips away just slightly, Simon slowly guides his cock into your wet cunt. He let's a low sigh out at the feeling of being back inside your pussy. This angle feels so much better, bordering painful, but you can't really tell the difference at this point. He bears down on you so close, you feel his hot breath. His hips are firmly and intentionally grinding against your ass. His dick causing shivers to run through your body. The recoil of your ass when he begins thrusting again is mesmerizing. He grabs a handful of your ass and spreads you open, slowing his thrusts down enough to watch his cock sink into your wet cunt over and over. Moving to grip your waist with both hands, Simon speeds back up; practically using you like a doll.

The way you tighten up on him is dangerous. "Shit-" He breaths panicked. Cum spurts from his cock before he can even pull out. "Shit!" He growls, quickly stuffing his cock back in your cunt to roughly fuck himself through his orgasm. His hands shake as he finally pulls out. You feel his cum spilling out of your cunt as you go to push yourself up, but his hands grab your hips and roughly pull you backwards. Simon lays back as he drags you up his chest, placing your cunt right over his face. Any words you had formulated turn to a moan when his mouth latches onto your clit. His arms snake around your thighs and hold you against his mouth. His hot mouth that feels so good. You were already so close when he came that you know it won't be long before your orgasm burns through you. His tight grip loosens when he feels you trying to grind against his face. If he wasn't 2 ogasms out, the way you moan and grip on his thighs would make his dick hard again.

One arm uncoils from your thigh to land a rough smack to your ass. He feels your pussy clench at the act and lands another light smack before he kneads the area with a rough hand. Simon can tell from the way you tighten your thighs that you're close to cumming. He decides to lock you down with one arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand trails back, wetting his fingers in the mix of fluids before slipping 2 fingers inside of your pussy. Your head is thrown back with a pleased gasp as he finger fucks you. Curling them into your g-spot relentlessly until you're squirting; cum dripping down his chin and neck onto the bed. He keeps fingering you until you're reaching back, begging him to stop with dewy eyes and weak hands.

He's grinning as he lifts your pussy away from his mouth.

"Lieutenant Riley, you're not even paying attention." You sternly accuse from your side of the table.

Simon takes a deep, slow breathe in as he repositions himself higher in his seat, blinking a few times to clear the haze of his daydream. He clears his throat, glances at you and nods for you to continue. All you do is purse your lips; sparing him a scalding look as you continue where you left off in the PowerPoint.

"So, first round of weapons draw is going to be 0600. Buses will show at 0700 to take the troops to the range. Second round will be 1100, so buses will return around 1200 with the morning group and take the next round of soldiers up to the range. That gives all the firers about 5 hours to hit a qual out on the range. They can come back as soon as they qual, but I do NOT want to work passed 6pm tomorrow. Anyone that fails to qualify after 5 hours... well they shoukdnt even be here." You turn to look at him again and your lips purse.

He must look disinterested. Not only had he already been told the timelines for the range, but the entire time you'd been talking, he had been thinking of your escapade from this previous weekend. Every time he looked at you since you came in Monday morning, he could only see the pliant little thing you'd been Saturday when he fucked you into Sunday morning and left after a long nap in your bed. Right now though, he could see you about to throw a fit over his lack of attention toward your presentation.

"Don't worry, dove." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "I wouldn't dare to cause mess of all your hard work and planning." Simon circled the table and loomed over you. You were slow to realize, but the look in your eyes showed your recognizition of the combination of the pet name and his voice.

"Well, I-"

"It's OK, lovie." He smoothed his hand over your hair and to the side of your neck until his thumb brushed your cheek. In an instant, you looked just the same as you did this weekend. Brows pinching together and a doe eyed look replacing the severe stare down you'd been giving him. You looked almost like a deer caught in the headlights; completely unsure of what to do.

How cute.

"So you want me to open up the Arms Room, right?"

All you could muster up was a small nod.

"I'll be there at 0500 to do a pre-inspection and ready everything. I'll allow troops to start drawing their weapons 10 minutes early, too. Okay?" As he spoke his thumb traced your bottom lip. So entranced by his actions and stunned by your realization, you could only offer a breathless, "Okay." In response.

The way you looked up at him had his body moving to lean down for a kiss, but his self-control stopped him before he could even get an inch. Instead, Simon just pressed his thumb down against your bottom lip and let you go. Running his tongue along his teeth, he averted his gaze from you and walked back over to his office.

[harmoonix]

Chill astro notes

🔶 People need to stop blaming one specific sign when they get cheated/hurt/etc.. in love, let's use Sag Venus for this example, a lot of people blame Sagittarius Venus for being "cheaters" but truly that doesn't mean anything, because first you need to do a synastry chart instead of reading your partners chart. Synastry chart is at least 85% on the fault why some things don't work in a relationship astrologically talking.... Not the signs from their actual birth charts

🔶 - I personally love the dynamic of Venus in the 3rd/5th/7th/11th houses, because it shows how much love they hold for their freinds and how to share it together, for some of natives this aspect can also mean that you can have friends to lovers kind of thing or your lover can be your best friend

🔶 - I have a friend with Mars in the 6th house and he literally can't stay still. He always needs to do something, i guess the natives are full of energy and don't want to take a break..

🔶 - Capricorn Placements can end up to be workaholic, it's good to work if that gives you satisfaction, but most times a break is really needed because you're human after all

🔶 - I honestly believe that Saturn with Pisces Degrees 12°, 24° have it hard when it comes to sleeping time, they can either have problems with sleep either with not sleeping enough

🔶 - The time when you'll have your Saturn return, which happens at least 2 times in a human life, it happens to be your most challenging/transformative years of your life because it will be the year where you'll need a lot of patience to go over the test of Saturn

🔶 - I always think about how life must have been in the 1960's cus' Uranus was in Leo at that time (precisely in 1962), it must have been something totally taken out of control

🔶 - Neptune aspecting Juno asteroid (3) can end up to dream about their soulmate or future spouse, if you don't dream then probably you'll receive some signs from the universe that you'll met someone

🔶 - Moon in the 6th/8th/10th/12th house > In case no one told you, I hope you have it good and without any stress or bad thought, you'll win all your battles

🔶 - People with Lilith - Sun aspects could have been judged a lot in the past, but you need to stay like yourself no matter what because you don't have to change based on others opinion.

🔶 - On the other hand. Lilith harshly aspecting Moon don't give a single f about others opinion, you can say whatever they want and they would not care at all. Because they live for themselves

🔶 - Taurus Sun/Moon/Rising are actually very posesive, some of them can be more than Scorpios. But one thing about them is that they know how to hide it good enough so people don't observe that

🔶 - Aquarians claim to not get jealous easy, but you can see it on their face when they're jealous or possesive, or CLINGY they have it easier with their face expressions

🔶 - Nobody loves nature more than Earth suns, earth is their own heaven and special place, now you'll probably say "well they have the earth element!" It's actually because their love and humanitarian side to love the earth this much, makes them into this

🔶 - Aquarius Placements especially Sun/Moon/Rising they are not weird as people say, the thing is nowadays... it's popular to be like some celebrities so people forgot to be their true selves, Aquarius is the sign of difference, don't let people tell you otherwise

🔶 - If your 6th house ruler is badly aspected you can have complications with your health. For example if your 6H house ruler is Saturn or Pluto you can get sick easier than others

🔶 - I want to believe that Pluto - Moon aspects can learn a lot of things from their mother. To learn for her mistakes so they won't do the same thing again and again, which is a very good thing because less families will have generational curses to break, I mean... go girl break that curse

🔶 - Natives with South Node - Jupiter aspects may want to know more about their past. Because Jupiter wants to expand this curiosity about their past lives

🔶 - I feel like 4th house natives really really really like to give hugs to comfort others, and its truly something very sweet because nowadays the world turned into a dark stage and people forgot what kindness means

🔶 - All people get hurt when they're betrayed but for natives with the Sun or Moon in the 11th house may take it too deep and they cannot accept that they were betrayed.

🔶 - Pisces Sun/Moon/Rising/Venus love/like to watch a lot dramas with love, or is just me who saw that? I know so many people with those placements who like to watch love dramas

🔶 - 9th house is so less talked about and honestly is a very underrated house because is the house of luck and blessings.. yet people don't talk enough about it

🔶 - Neptune in the 8H/9H houses can get obsessed with crystals, and tarot too..they mostly adore witch things just like Neptune in those houses act like a little witch

🔶 - If you have placements/planets at 1° in your birth chart, you can change things on your own, because is the power of the magician tarot card who gives this energy

🔶 - Sag Placements love to hang out quite often, they're always for "let's go in this place" mostly because they're very curious souls who want to gain experience and memories

🔶 - If you have Vertex - Juno (3) in good aspects probably you're fated to met a good person who can change your life into better, it's actually sweet

🔶 - Gemini Rising/Gemini Sun/Gemini in the 5th house can get praised for their hands/ these natives are having really good looking hands and people appreciate that

🔶 - It's something I still study about but does it happen for Sun in Capricorn natives to have things like birth marks on their skin? Because Capricorn can rule over skin too and most people with Cap Sun that I know have marks on their skin (like a birth mark)

Check this out:

It shows what body parts all these signs rule over

🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°

With all the love and light, yours truly ���️🔶❤️

Harmoonix ❤️

[pretty-toru]

lovesick┆gojo satoru

୧ genre: fluff

୧ wc: 1.4k

୧ synopsis: megumi is sick with a common cold, and gojo is simply lovesick for you.

Gojo Satoru convinces himself that he's not jealous.

How could he feel such a prickling and burning sensation in his lower tummy, slowly rising towards his heart making his blood boil and face grow hot just because you're nursing eleven-year-old Megumi back to health? The same little rascal that he had previously gotten into a spat with over something stupid and it doesn't help that the brat's sticking his tongue out and pulling down his lower eyelid taunting him.

But of course, you're too busy doting over sweet and innocent Megumi to notice. Too preoccupied with fluffing the pillows for the young boy to rest his poor head on, gently tucking him in with a cozy throw blanket, putting something on the platinum screen with the promise of brewing him a ginger-honey tea to make him feel better.

No matter how much Gojo tries to ignore Megumi, his facial muscles twitch and contort on their own in utter dismay and his Six Eyes zeroes in on the couch-ridden boy with his lips curling into a deep frown before sticking his tongue back at him.

"Come on, Satoru. Be nice to him, he's really sick." You say as you start the kettle and reach for a mug from the cabinet. Gojo's forced to acknowledge that Megumi wasn't faking the snotty nose and loud sneezes, but he still doesn't like the idea of losing to one smug child and giving him the satisfaction that he's secured his revenge which is your devoted attention. Maybe Megumi knew that his guardian would go a wee-bit insane being treated as a second thought but Gojo will never admit that it's working.

"Hey honey, you know what? I don't feel so good either. Here, feel my forehead." Gojo takes your hand and places it over his forehead to check if it's warm to the touch and he makes sure to do his best impression of looking pathetically sick—droopy eyelids, jutting his lower lip into a pout, and slumped shoulders to get your sympathy.

"Satoru, you feel perfectly fine. There's nothing wrong with you."

"I swear I'm not feeling well. My throat feels weird and scratchy, my body feels flashes of hot and cold, my head is pounding and it's killing me, and.." Gojo tries to convince you that he's experiencing every symptom he could think of and you knew he was determined to be sick. Between your "uh-huh" and "right" you decide to humor him as you follow his explanation and tried your hardest to hold back a smile when he throws in an exaggerated detail or two.

"Alright, you big baby. We can't have you feeling sick now, can we? Can't have the strongest sorcerer out of commission for long, hm?"

"Nope, that'd be very bad. As long as you drop everything and pour all your attention on me, I should get better in no time. No pressure or anything, but the world does kinda depend on it~" Gojo flashes you a toothy grin then quickly remembers that he's supposed to be sick and feigns a cough or two averting your knowing glance.

"Hmm, okay I'll see what I can do. Now come here, let's get you all nice and comfortable so you can get your much-needed rest and get well again." You lead him to your shared bedroom and reflect the covers back for him to climb onto the mattress and ensure he's warm and cozy as you pull the comforter over him. For someone who's supposed to feel horribly ill Gojo sure can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. "You seem a little too happy to be sick, don't you think?"

"Just glad that you'll be the one to help me get back my strength is all." Through his fluttering lashes, he sports the most innocent and angelic expression he can muster and you can't help the soft giggle given his stellar performance up until this point.

"Alright, if you say so. I'll get you something to eat, okay? I'll be right back."

As you're turning on your heel to head for the door, Gojo pouts and protests. "Wha- No sweet kiss to hold me over? You might be a while and I'll get lonely since you're not here to keep me company."

"Aw, sorry baby. But you know there's no kissing until you're all better. Can't get myself sick now that I have to look after you and Megumi, right? I promise you I won't be long."

"...Not even a forehead kiss? :(" He murmurs under his breath as he watches your back to him and eventually disappears into another room. Once Gojo's left to his own devices, he wonders how long it would take you to complete your task on hand. He fiddles with his thumbs and counts the passing minutes. One minute becomes five, five becomes ten, then ten becomes twenty and he suddenly cannot bear to be apart from you much longer and checks on you.

"Sweetheart, what's taking you so long? I thoug-" And there he stumbles across the answer to his own question. Megumi is being spoon-fed rice porridge by you because he claims that his arms are too weak to do it himself and you couldn't leave him starved in his condition. Gojo appears crestfallen and disgruntled in the throw blanket draped over his lanky body and with a small huff he grumbles, "So that's what you've been up to. Fine, fine I guess it's up to me to take care of myself, huh?"

"What's wrong with him? Is he sick too or something?" Megumi asks nonchalantly as he watches his mentor's dejected form return to his bedroom to sulk. You gently shake your head and offer the young boy a soft smile, but you do feel a little bad that your husband has been acting unusual lately hence his needy and clingy tendencies.

"He's just going through a phase, but don't you worry about him and focus on getting better, okay? I'll find a way to make it up to him."

When you enter your shared bedroom with a platter of breakfast in your grasp, you found Gojo hiding under the covers in an attempt of giving you his silent treatment. You place the serving tray of food on the nightstand and situate yourself on the bed beside him, smoothing your hand over his covered shoulder as he's laid on his side with his face away from you. "Satoru, my love, I've brought you breakfast."

With a soft shrug of his shoulder, he responds with a strained hum but you know it's just him being melodramatic because he could never truly be mad at you. "Do you wanna tell me what's on your mind? I'm all yours if you come on out from under the covers."

Gojo shifts his body weight around and tufts of white hair start to peek as he gradually pulls the blanket down until you meet his azure gaze and he receives your sweet smile. "Hey there, is everything alright? Did I do something to upset you?" The tender warmth of your hand finds its home on his cheek with a gentle caress and he sighs contently at the familiar touch. You're patient as you wait for him to gather his thoughts, your fingers moving to his soft tendrils in soothing motions and he inches closer to you.

"You've never done a single thing wrong ever. You are perfect," he begins slowly. "I just missed you and ever since I got back from my mission you were too busy with the kids (Megumi and Tsumiki) that we haven't had any time together and I just wanna be with you." Gojo confesses as he's playing with the hem of your shirt, feeling a bit vulnerable to look you straight in the eyes. "Oh, and another thing... I'm not actually sick I only said that so you'd notice me more."

"Thanks for being honest with me. And I knew that you weren't sick. For someone who's supposed to be good at anything he tries, I'm glad that you turned out to be a pretty bad liar."

Gojo's face heats up at that and he unceremoniously buries his face in your lap from embarrassment, as muffled words of "Oh, so you knew. I thought I was pretty convincing" managed to reach your ears.

"Tell you what, how about we have ourselves a nice picnic this weekend? Just the two of us, I'll find someone to watch the kids. And I think maybe spending an afternoon in the sunshine will do us some good. What do you think?"

Gojo suddenly lights up at your proposal. "I think you're wonderful for planning the perfect date."

"You're sweet for giving me so much credit." Your soft laughter quickly melts his heart and he returns your affections, feeling a little more in love with you as you're both sharing a moment together. "I love you."

"I love you so much more, my sweet angel."

[mswyrr]

Qimir consistently aches to see the pain the dark side causes Osha and I believe this will lead him to resist Plagueis' plans in s2.

His first moment of regret and resistance is, in fact, at the very completion of his seduction! He gets Osha to put the helmet on - and it hurts her. It's causing her pain, so he fights to rescue her from that. Even though, presumably, this was (with Plagueis, whether knowingly or unknowingly) the goal.

Let's backtrack a second and reflect on the seduction itself. The show creator/lead writer, Leslye Headland, has said that it wasn't manipulation on Qimir's part, that he meant everything he said. Two relevant quotes from the same interview with her on this point:

"So, in my opinion, Osha is extremely in denial about her own anger at the Jedi and at her father, i.e. Sol. She's in extreme denial about that because she feels like she's not allowed to be angry, and she's in an enormous amount of pain over her sister and their history, and she also feels like she's not allowed to feel that. So, someone coming in and saying, “Actually, feeling all those things is not only okay but actually could restore your spiritual foundation,” is almost too much. I don't think that's manipulation. I think he's telling her the truth."

"[T]he relationship between Lo and Jen in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was an influence in the writer's room. We referenced that relationship over and over again. The intentional parallel is that they are equals and their relationship is earned through mutual vulnerability, not intimidation or manipulation."

However, someone can be themselves misled and so mislead you too, from a place of sincerity! That is, perhaps, the most heartbreaking way of all to mislead someone. Qimir is lost - the Jedi path damaged him and he (like so many Jedi before him) snapped to the Sith path. It's not working for him, it's causing him pain likely, but he believes it and shares from that place. But the moment Qimir sees this path is causing Osha pain, he feels compelled to do something to help her.

Once he gets the helmet off Osha, Qimir seems relieved when he learns the vision Osha *thinks* she saw, of Mae "killing a Jedi without a weapon." (Which Qimir somehow knows is the goal here - to get Mae or Osha to fall - presumably because Plagueis either gave him the vision or told him directly to try to get that to happen?)

He's content with the idea that Mae will be the one to do it, fulfilling the vision/directive, and actively seeks to make it happen from this point on. He tries to talk her up into doing it at the pivotal moment, but that's not what she's about, her feelings about Sol are not so out of balance for her to "fall" as the Jedi and Sith understand it. She feels anger but also wants justice most, not revenge.

I read disappointment in how Manny plays his reaction to Mae's "No" - disappointment at "failing" sure but also I think it's related to the fact that he wanted it to be Mae, not Osha.

This was cemented for me by the way he played Qimir's reaction to Osha's fall. He's not celebratory, though he's just accomplished what he had been trying to since he began teaching Mae! He seems stricken, actually. There's no pleasure or satisfaction in his "success"! Witnessing Osha's pain only makes him feel compassion and bow his head in sorrow. This "success" is ashes in his mouth.

As a mutual on Twitter pointed out to me (♥️_LokiDokie!), Leslye's commentary in this interview supports this reading of Qimir as grief-stricken by what he's seen:

"Then it's like this passing through, stepping over the threshold, that actually will bring them closer together, which is so interesting. But the motivation I gave to Manny in that moment — in theater, we would call it dramaturgically — for, “Why is he stepping over to do that,” because it said it in the script, was, “You have been in this position. If you have a red lightsaber, you have felt this level of despair, rage, and dejection. So go over there and let her know that you have had that experience.” And he just did that beautiful thing. I was like, “Jesus Christ.”"

His reaction is a stark contrast to Mae, who never fell to the dark side, and doesn't understand what she's seeing - she mistakes this for Osha being liberated from Jedi mindwashing. THIS is what Qimir's face would look like if he thought this was a good thing and was happy about it:

The contrast is quite stark.

Qimir's sorrow for Osha continues as he attempts to comfort her and then sees she's bled the saber.

Intriguingly, Qimir has the helmet on and is "hiding" emotionally when he wipes Mae's memory. We don't get to see how that pain effects him. But the pattern throughout the episode is that when Osha hurts he aches too.

In the final scene, Qimir approaches Osha, again, without triumph at any of this. He's gotten everything he thought he wanted, but he looks at her and I read concern, sorrow, wariness.

He steps closer to her and takes her hand supportively, continuing his pattern (3 times in this episode!) of physically coming close to help/comfort her when she's hurting.

Then he raises his chin with resolve, but no happiness. They are facing the future, but they are "doomed" on the Sith path. Romantic love cannot live there anymore than it can thrive on the arid, repressed Jedi path. I think he suspects that - whether or not he's knowingly in league with Plagueis. Whatever is coming, the Sith path can only cause Osha more and more pain...

He cannot help but ache with her when he sees Osha in pain and want to help her. I cannot imagine an s2 where they continue down the Sith path without him breaking under the strain of watching the pain it causes her - he could endure it himself but seeing her do it? He'll snap. And that romantic love--something BOTH the Jedi and Sith reject and denigrate--that will help them escape imo. Here's a quote from Leslye I interpret as supportive of this reading. She references how the Sith path is inimical to romantic love and then alludes to the tantalizing possibility of escape:

HEADLAND: Oh, yeah! Again, they’re Sith. It's a different vibe. To me, it's gonna hit different because of their allegiance and who they are. So, yes, it is framed as romantic, but I do think, again, it's not gonna turn out great. I think if he's training her, “One to hold the power, one to crave it.” So they're starting off as equals, but what's gonna happen? Like in Romeo and Juliet, it's amazing because right at the beginning they're like, “Okay, these two die. Let's start the play.” As you're watching this incredible love story unfold, and it's one of the most beautifully iconic plays ever written, in the back of your mind, you're like, “This is not going to turn out well.” I want to clarify: They are not necessarily doomed or destined to fail as a team. But the Sith rule of two denotes a power imbalance. Which clearly, due to the final shot, is not their relationship. Also, Plagueis complicates their journey as Sith, because we know his apprentice is eventually Palpatine. They will not defeat him.

I feel pretty confident that the love he feels for her is pivotal to their journey away from the Sith path and what Plagueis wants for Osha - both because Leslye knows this is not a good path and because of the deep sense of care and connection Qimir already feels for Osha.

Combine this with Leslye's comments and imo it being unlikely that they'll repeat the same pattern with Qimir & Vernestra that they did with Sol & Osha and just the overall "sameness" that would come of hammering the endless cycle in more and I just don't buy that as the direction we're headed.

It is possible to tell it as a relentless tragedy and keep hammering the endless, inescapable cycles but, while tragedies are valid (I enjoy hotd!), even they have a narrative form more varied than that usually. And this IS a "coming of age" psychological/mythic Star Wars story at the end of the day. And one Leslye (happily gay married with a child!) drew on her own experiences (with religious trauma) to write... she didn't end up trapped in darkness why would a young protagonist like Osha have to?

Here's the full Leslye quote about religious trauma, since I believe it's vital to understanding where she and the writing team are going to take Osha, Mae, and Qimir:

You have a play, Cult of Love, coming to Broadway this fall. It’s about a Christian family gathering for the holidays. It’s inspired by your own experiences with your family. You were working on it at the same time as The Acolyte, from what I can tell. Did they influence each other? Our director, Trip Cullman, and I were talking about how it’s called Cult of Love because all cults have a dream, and the dream is really beautiful. Even Jim Jones started out trying to desegregate Indianapolis. This family in the play has this dream that they follow to the logical conclusion, which is that they never achieve it. I was raised Christian. Christianity is the ultimate dream. It’s a beautiful concept that God becomes human in order to love you more. Then you look at what Christianity has done to the world: colonization, genocide. It was a beautiful dream that doesn’t justify the human action that comes along. The Jedi also live in a dream, a dream they believe everybody has. In The Acolyte, the pilot ends with the line “An acolyte kills the dream.” The drama is to wake up to the fact that the dream doesn’t exist.

I think the point is for Osha and Qimir to wake up to the fact that both the Jedi and Sith "dreams" do not exist. They are toxic mirrors of each other - and Osha and Mae were born into a culture (the culture of the Coven and their mothers) that didn't see the force in the binary way the Jedi&Sith both do. Mae, who remembered and kept to the pov of the Coven, never fell to the dark side in a Sith way --she felt anger but balanced with a desire for justice, even when she killed-- it was only her sister, taught repression and self-denial by the Jedi, who did. Qimir and Osha have a conceptual/spiritual escape route open to them if they wish to use it.

Finally, Leslye has said that she's written Qimir as her "shadow" (in the Jungian sense) and that she feels close to him - and what does he want? "I want freedom." I don't think someone driven by that desire is going to just surrender himself AND the woman he loves to Plagueis the Creeper.

My wife was like, “What do you want to say?” I was like, “I wanna say that people don't want me to exist as a gay woman, as a woman in this particular space, working in this wild sandbox.” There was a whole crew of people who believed in me, but deep down, I felt like, “I am unaccepted for who I am because of what I believe in and wanting to wield my power the way I'd like without having to answer to the legion of people that just exist out there.” By the way, I think everybody feels this way. I think that's why it resonates when you're honest about yourself, and you get personal about it. When he says, “I want freedom,” that's what I want. I just want freedom. I want to be able to just be out there and be myself and be the type of artist I want to be without having to answer to anybody. That's why I feel so close to him.

[thefanficmonster]

Do you do NSFW? If so, may I request a Markiplier NSFW alphabet?

Hi dear! Usually I struggle greatly when writing anything NSFW for RPF but I shall do my best. Baby steps lol Hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Markiplier x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: !!NSFW content below the cut!!

A= Aftercare (What they're like after the act)

Mark is the absolute sweetest and most attentive lover before, during and after the act.

After he's made sure you're alright, he'd go grab you a bottle of water, a snack and a towel to clean you up. You can bet on a long cuddle sesh after the act, filled with intimacy and romance, periodically interrupted by jokes he'd crack to make you laugh.

B= Body Part (Favorite body part of their own or on their lover)

He's pretty damn proud of his hands. Years of gaming have made them particularly skillful in many ways and he knows how to utilize them just right *wink* *wink*

Oh, and also his back. He's been influenced to love it by you more so than on his own accord but still.

On you, he loves your legs and thighs. Count on him constantly having his hands all over them in both innocent and explicit instances. And when you wrap your legs around his waist....consider him a goner.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Inside, no questions asked.

Before you got to the point of being comfortable enough for that, however, he found just as much pleasure in painting either your chest, thighs or face.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Nothing helps him excel at a game quite like under-the-desk head while recording. Bonus points if it's a live stream.

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing)

Mark has had decent amount of experience, enough to be versed into how things work textbook-wise. Every skill he exhibits, however, is something he improvised at some point. But don't take that the wrong way - this man knows exactly what he's doing

F= Favorite Position

Mark is simple man and his favorite position reflects that - Doggy style (closely followed by cowgirl)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Oh this man is a majore league goof in general and during sex. That's not to say he can't get into character and dawn a serious and attractively intimidating front when the atmosphere of the night calls for it.

He's a perfect balance between goofy and serious, occasionally leaning far left or far right depending on the moment.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He takes care of his hygiene rather meticulously. He keeps everything neat, trimmed and clean.

I= Intimacy (how are they in the moment)

There's never a shortage of intimacy between you and Mark during the act. Regardless of if the night calls for making love or having rough sex, there's never a lack of intimacy and closeness between you two.

That being said, I'd again say it's perfectly balanced. Whatever the night calls for is how Mark responds - be it slow, romantic lovemaking or rough and dirty sex.

J= Jerk-off (do they masturbate and how often)

He used to do it a lot more frequently before you started dating. Now, nothing can compare to the real thing. He can't find much satisfaction in masturbating but he still turns to it as a resort of release when either of you is away on a trip

K= Kink (kinks they might have)

Dear God, please forgive me for this...

Choking, spanking, hair-pulling, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, light bondage, praising/degrading (depending on what the situation calls for). Feel free to share your thoughts on this topic in the comments

L= Location (where they're down to get it on)

Every single surface in the house is game in Mark's eyes. Especially the kitchen counter and the nicely spacious shower

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

You, in any context you can think of. You don't even need to be dressed provocatively in any way shape or form. This man is just so head over heels for you, he can't help it.

Apart from that, a good ol' rage game will raise his blood pressure just right and he'll proceed to blow off some steam with you. The same works the other way around - when he's high on the success of completing a game and he celebrates with you

N= No (what they're strictly against and wouldn't try)

Anything with violent and hostile connotations that could bring you harm in any way, be it physical or emotional. He loves you more than words can describe and just the thought of hurting you fills him with dread. You both like dabbling into the occasional impact play but nothing more than that, and never without a safe word.

O= Oral (are they more of a giver or receiver)

Mark is a big fan of receiving but he enjoys giving so much more. He does it for his own pleasure just as much as he does it to bring you satisfaction. He loves every aspect of it - your taste, the tangling of your hands in his hair, the sounds you make, the bucking of your hips. It's his own personal high. He could do it for hours if you'd let him.

P= Pace (what's their pace during the act)

Again, the speed setting Mark operates on depends on the atmosphere of the night. On the regular, he likes to take it slow, prolong the experience and uphold this bubble of intimacy around the two of you for as long as he can.

Q= Quickie (are they a fan of quickies)

Nope.

The Devil is into details and so is Mark. And it's difficult to appreciate the details when working with a small time frame. He likes to take his time, worshipping you the way you deserve in the most meticulous and intimate manner.

R= Risk (how risky are they/do they like trying new things)

Oh he loves a good unconventional and borderline public location where there's a chance at getting caught. Although he prefers the comfort of your shared house it doesn't cancel out his love for the thrill of some public fun.

As for trying new things, he's down to try everything at least once - unless it falls in the No criteria I mentioned earlier. All you have to do is bring it up and you can automatically consider him signed up and strapped in, ready to try it.

S= Stamina (how long they last in bed)

The speed may or may not directly relate to how long he lasts. He can get at least two rounds - a solid hour/hour and a half - under his belt before breaking a sweat.

T= Toys (do they own and and are they down to experiment with them)

I have a feeling there is a box, hidden in a dark corner of a closer or under his bed, containing a small collection of sex toys. If you're game to use him, he'd love nothing more than take them out to play.

U= Unfair (are they a tease)

To an infuriating degree. He'd even mock you when you whine, beg or get frustrated with his teasing.

It's music to his ears.

V= Volume (how loud are they during sex)

Mark is vocal but not loud.

He exhibits his satisfaction and pleasure with mainly sighs and groans, all at a pretty low volume. But he's also very expressive during sex - praising/degrading you accordingly or dirty talking you over the edge. All in a whispered or hushed tone that makes it all the hotter.

W= Wild Card

Remember how I said he's not a big fan of masterbating? Well, when he has to resort to it he has a certain way of making it much more pleasurable...

Photos and videos you two have taken during the act or right afterwards in your disheveled states.

It's his personal collection, safely tucked away in a dark hidden corner of his computer memory.

X= X-Ray (what are they packing)

I'm sorry, I can't. I just can't. I've sinned enough tonight LMAOO

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Name: Mark

Status: Permanently horny

Z= Zzzz (*yawn*)

I already mentioned a cuddle sesh earlier and I will now add onto it to say that, although he tries his best not to, he does fall asleep rather quickly and deeply. How could he not when he feels so much comfort with his arms wrapped around you. When he falls asleep to the sound of your breathing and heartbeat, it's the most peaceful slumber he's ever had.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.65k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, death is mentioned and tyler gets close to it not explicitly, kissing, swearing, baby as a nickname for your lover, lot of made up family members + names

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole family, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could never biologically create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, pressing his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soup catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front door when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head towards Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem too far off.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's that of an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"...and now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or three along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

You could spend eternity like this.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

One of the carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 14: HALF RETURN

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

He can’t complain about being touch-starved. Not when he has two kids who were alone for God knows how long.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: graphic depictions of cursed spirits? blood. angst and such

ੈ✩ wc: 6.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: heres a fat chapter for yall you can stop complaining now

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

August, 2009

Gojo Satoru has never felt this powerful before. It should scare him, but his veins are surging with something above human. Gold-lined arteries as bright as the sun above him. The air crackles with energy around him, a visible distortion that warps reality itself. Satoru flexes his fingers, marveling at how the world seems to bend to his will. He can feel every particle, every atom, dancing at his command. He understands now why people would compare him to a God.

He is a fucking God. Nothing could kill him. Nothing could touch him.

He’d woken up in his own blood. Now, he stares, half-mad at the man bleeding in front of him.

“Any last words?”

Fushiguro Toji blinks back at him as if he’d just noticed the boy’s presence. Ah, a boy. Barely twenty with the world in his hands. When Toji was twenty, he was getting lashed by the Zenin elders. He doesn’t have it in him right now to feel bitter. He remembers his own boy, how he shares his eyes, his mean mug.

Blessing, he’d named him.

“In two or three years, my kid will be sold off to the Zenin clan,” Toji drawls.

Satoru raises a brow.

“Do with that what you will.”

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, Satoru notices. The smallest bend of the scar adorning his mouth. Who smiles at their executioner?

Fushiguro Toji drops to the ground. Satoru only hears the buzz of cicadas and the thumping of his own heart.

Satoru stares at the fallen body, his mind reeling. The power coursing through him begins to ebb, replaced by a creeping unease. He'd expected satisfaction. Vindication. A cussing out, at least. Instead, he feels hollow.

He kneels beside the man’s body, searching for answers in the man’s lifeless face. It’s as if Fushiguro’s face has a permanent hint of a smirk. Either that or Satoru imagines the final act of defiance. Satoru's eyes remain fixed on Toji's lifeless form, the man's final words echoing in his mind. A child. Sold to the Zenin clan. The implications slowly sink in, piercing through the haze of his newfound power.

"Fuck," he mutters, running a hand through his white hair.

The cicadas continue their relentless chorus, indifferent to the life just extinguished. Satoru's gaze drifts to the horizon, where the sun hangs low, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. It reminds him of Suguru, of Riko. Of you. Of promises made and broken.

He closes his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. When he opens them again, resolve hardens his features. He may be a god among men, but he's not above the weight of consequence. Not anymore.

He takes a step back, suddenly aware of the blood on his hands, on his clothes. The metallic scent fills his nostrils, making him nauseous. The world that had bent to his will moments ago now feels oppressively still.

The sun beats down mercilessly, and Satoru realizes he's been standing there for far too long. He needs to move, to report, to do something. But the thought of Toji's child nags at him, an irritating itch he can't scratch.

The summer heat presses down on the boy-god, suffocatingly so. He stands, wiping blood from his hands onto his slacks. The divine feeling from moments ago is distant now. Only human uncertainty lingers.

__

Satoru has dreams about the human with the scar splitting the side of his lip. It’s always the same — Fushiguro’s final words, his entire side blown to bits from Satoru’s hand. Satoru feels nothing until the man speaks. He always says something different, but it’s more or less the same.

– Any last words?

– Last words? Kid, I've been dead since the day I was born.

– You don't get it, do you? I could unmake you without a thought. I could rewrite reality itself.

– You really are a cocky bastard. What would that prove, huh? That you’re special? 

Toji coughs blood onto the ground. It’s a wet, rattling sound.

– I used to envy power like yours. Now I know that I was better off a monkey. Power like that curses you. It’ll eat you alive, boy.

– I was born this way.

– Take some advice from a dead man walking, then.  Don't let that power define you. It's a tool, not your soul.

How absurd. Power is all that Satoru has. Yet, something in Toji’s words strikes a chord.

– Why should I give a shit what you say?

– Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe I’m suffering from blood loss. 

After every dream, Toji dies before he speaks again. Each time Satoru wakes up in a panic, he remembers the phantom of two faces. A frail girl and a sullen boy with sharp eyes.

October, 2011

“You gotta like… divide it. You know?”

“Huh?”

Satoru frowns at the worksheet in front of him. Despite being at the top of his class his whole life, he never really cared about academia. He aced everything that was important, and then the information was lost in him. Math was easy, sure, but he didn’t know how to explain it properly to an eight-year-old.

“Look,” he says, pointing to the numbers. “See how this number on top is bigger? That makes it an improper fraction.”

“Yeah?” Megumi replies, bored.

“So, we gotta divide the big one by the little one to get the mixed fraction.”

“But it doesn’t divide evenly…”

“Yeah, so you kind of just… uh, put the leftovers in the fraction part. Next to the whole number.”

Megumi frowns, probably about to complain about Satoru’s lack of teaching instinct, when Shoko walks in. She pauses, a cigarette in her mouth, and flashes Satoru a confused look.

Satoru waves her off with a dismissive hand, turning his attention back to Megumi. The boy's intense green eyes are fixed on the paper, brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, Satoru sees a flash of Toji in that expression—the same stubborn determination.

"Okay," Megumi says slowly, pencil hovering over the page. "So... seven divided by two is three with one left over?"

"Exactly," Satoru nods, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "So you write it as 3 1/2."

Megumi scribbles down the answer, then looks up at Satoru expectantly. "Is that right?"

"Perfect," Satoru grins, ruffling the boy's hair. Megumi scowls and ducks away, but there's a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

Shoko clears her throat, reminding them of her presence. She exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Yo. You babysitting now?”

“Hey, don’t light up in front of the kids.”

“Since when do you babysit?” she narrows her eyes. “It’s not like you need the money—”

“Hold on, Megs,” Satoru interrupts. The boy happily ignores him, immediately opening Satoru’s Gameboy Advance while Satoru drags her into the nearby bedroom.

After he finishes his spiel, she looks at him with disbelief. 

“What the fuck—”

“No swearing, either.”

She scoffs. “You can’t just kidnap some kids. Don’t they have any relatives that can take them in?”

“Uh, yeah. The Zenin clan,” he mutters, keeping his voice low with the door open. He looks over at Megumi on the couch, whose brows are furrowed as he plays his game. In many ways, he really was the spitting image of his father, baring the same teeth ready to snarl. Wounded pup ready to bite. Of course, he was cut from that same Zenin rib. 

Satoru sighs. Tsumiki appears, hair disheveled from her nap, and tugs on his sleeve. 

“Mister Gojo?”

“Yeah, sweetheart? And you don’t have to call me that.”

Her stomach growls before she can speak.  

Shit, he forgot to run to the store to buy more food. Shoko looks at him flatly, knowing full well that he eats like the typical university student despite having the money to get whatever organic shit they sell at the overpriced health food stores. 

“Aunt Shoko can take you out. You want a burger or something?”

He gives Shoko a pleading look, to which she rolls her eyes. “C’mon, kid.”

Shoko takes Tsumiki's hand, leading her towards the door. "Let's go, kiddo. We'll grab something for your brother too."

As they leave, Satoru collapses onto the couch next to Megumi, who's still engrossed in the game. He watches the boy's fingers move deftly over the buttons, his face a mask of concentration.

"You're pretty good at that," Satoru comments.

Megumi shrugs without looking up. "S'okay."

Satoru leans back, closing his eyes for a moment. The weight of his decision to take in these kids is starting to sink in. He's barely an adult himself, and now he's responsible for two lives. Two very complicated lives, given their connection to the Zenin clan. A pair of strays.

Megumi pouts as he button-smashes, ultimately losing a level. It’s almost endearing to Satoru, who sees himself in the boy in moments like these. Still, the ghost of Fushiguro still weighs on his shoulders whenever he looks at Megumi’s haunting green eyes. It’s like pieces of jagged glass, quick flashes of a mirrored history.

Satoru's mind wanders to you again as he watches Megumi struggle with the game. He imagines your gentle hands guiding the boy's fingers over the buttons, your patient voice explaining the intricacies of the game mechanics. You always had a way of breaking things down, making the complex simple and approachable. It was one of the things he loved most about you.

__

Satoru never really has an answer whenever Shoko asks why he decided to take the kids in. Your voice is in the back of his head, calling him selfish. It’s ironic, considering you could take partial credit for taking care of Satoru by simply being there. He was always a spoiled brat and he knew it himself.

His mind is always on you, but as the weeks pass, the thought of you is like a parasite on his brain. You’d be much better at handling the kids than him — hell, it was enough that you had to put up with Satoru’s childish antics when you grew up together.

Maybe he could convince Utahime to return and drag you along. She had always had something maternal about her. It was the way that she nagged and doted on others, the way she’d often beg Shoko to stop smoking, to which Shoko would actually listen (occasionally, for weeks at a time, until she found herself in an unexplainable manic depression again and again).

And you would adore little Megumi, who had the same sarcastic streak as you. Tsumiki would love you, too. She needed a role model that wasn’t Shoko, who often evaded responsibility of the kids by reminding Satoru that she never signed up for it, plus she was serving as something of a mentor for some underclassmen rookies at the morgue. 

Satoru's thoughts drift back to you, to the last time he saw you. The memory is etched in his mind, a bittersweet tableau of what once was and what could have been. Your eyes, usually so warm and inviting, had been cold that day, filled with a mixture of disappointment and something else he couldn't quite place. Hurt, perhaps? Or was it resignation?

It was a miracle you’d kissed him at all, even with the dry streaks of tears on your face. He remembered how hot his chest had felt just from something as chaste as your lips pressing against his. It was almost pathetic.

The memory of the kiss taunts him, a ghost of tenderness in the chaos of his new reality. What the fuck was he thinking, playing a father to these kids? Or an older brother of some sorts. Regardless, he wasn’t qualified. Not in the slightest.

In idle moments, Satoru finds himself absently touching his lips, as if he can still feel the trace of your goodbye. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the sensation that lingers on him like a second skin.

He can’t complain about being touch-starved. Not when he has two kids who were alone for God knows how long.

He remembers the way you'd explain things to him when you were younger, your eyes lighting up with excitement as you unraveled the mysteries of the world. How different would Megumi's math lesson have been if you were here? You'd probably have some clever analogy involving shogi pieces or trading cards, something that would click instantly in the boy's mind.

He tries to ignore the pang of longing in his chest. Things were so much easier when you were kids.

He can still feel your laughter. It’s imprinted in his brain, the way it would bubble up from your chest and come out all airy. He remembers the way your eyes crinkled around the corners when you laughed, the way your hands would gesture wildly when lecturing him.

He thinks about each time he saw you before the last time. Your eyes dragged down by hurt, face turning away to hide it. No matter what he said, the space between you would grow into a chasm. He wonders what you’re doing now, if you ever think of him the way he thinks of you — constantly, achingly.

The warmth of summer is the only thing that keeps him grounded. He lets Tsumiki decorate his apartment with plants she chooses at the farmer’s market — the scent of blooming jasmine and mint wafting all over his living room. It reminds him of the perfume you used to wear.

August is as slow as molasses. Sometimes it feels easy.

September, 2011

Satoru's apartment feels emptier without his towering presence, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of Tsumiki watering her plants and Megumi's quiet muttering as he plays his games. The potted plants Tsumiki lovingly tends to seem to droop, as if sensing Satoru’s absence. The late summer heat clings stubbornly to the city, but there's a hint of autumn in the air.

Satoru had left three days prior. He was alone in his house plenty of times when he was nine years old — this was his logic for leaving Tsumiki “in charge.”

"I'll be back soon," he had promised, ruffling Megumi's hair. The boy scowled but didn't pull away. "Remember the rules. Don't open the door for anyone. There's food in the fridge. And if anything happens—"

"Call Shoko," Tsumiki finished, her voice soft but steady.

Satoru nodded, a lump forming in his throat. He'd never left them alone for more than a day before. But this mission... it was too dangerous to bring them along, and too important to postpone.

Since his departure, the apartment starts to feel cavernous without Satoru’s larger-than-life presence. A storm brews over Tokyo, which leaves Tsumiki to slam all the windows closed in paranoia. She checks the locks every hour.

“You’re being dramatic,” Megumi huffs.

“No, I’m not,” Tsumiki frowns. She’s overprotective over Megumi, who’s usually occupied by Satoru’s brand new Nintendo 3DS, which came with dozens of games that he knowingly bought to occupy the boy.

It rains heavily that night, then the next. On the third night, the sky is eerily yellow, fading into a burgundy by dusk. Blood moon. Megumi and Tsumiki are huddled on the couch, the Nintendo dead and forgotten on the coffee table. Despite there not being rain, the weather outside is windy enough to blow the power out. Outside, the wind howls, rattling the windows with an odd persistence.

It’s as if something had changed in the atmosphere entirely. The shadows feel deeper than usual, if that was possible. Megumi feels it first, a prickling sensation at the base of his skull.

His stomach growls. There’s no way to heat up leftovers, goddammit. As he steps out towards the pantry, Tsumiki’s favorite jasmine plant withers before his eyes, its vibrant green leaves turning black and crumbling to dust.

Something is terribly wrong.

The air grows heavy, thick with an unseen presence. The shadows in the corners of the room seem to writhe and stretch, reaching out with inky tendrils. A low, guttural growl emanates from somewhere beyond the walls. There’s a scratching at the door, soft at first, then growing more insistent. Megumi's eyes widen, his hand instinctively reaching for Tsumiki's.

Megumi's heart races as he recognizes the telltale signs of a cursed spirit manifesting. He'd seen it before, back when...

He shakes the memory away, focusing on protecting Tsumiki. 

"It's probably just a cat," Tsumiki whispers, but her voice trembles.

The scratching stops, replaced by a low, guttural growl that sends chills down their spines. This is no cat.

Megumi springs into action, dragging Tsumiki towards Satoru's room. They barricade the door with a dresser, their hearts pounding in their ears.

"We need to call someone," Tsumiki says, her voice barely audible over the sound of splintering wood from the living room.

“W-We’re fine,” Megumi huffs nervously. His Divine dogs are braced for danger and both double his size. It’s fine, he tells himself.

“Gojo said you can’t use your technique yet. It’s too dangerous.”

“Well, someone has to protect us around here!”

“Don’t,” Tsumiki warns. “Let’s just call Shoko.”

Megumi rolls his eyes, fumbling for the emergency phone Satoru left them. His fingers shake as he scrolls through the contacts. Shoko's name is there, but something makes him pause. Another number catches his eye, labeled simply "Last Resort."

Without thinking, he presses call.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Each second feels like an eternity as the shadows in the room seem to pulse and grow.

Finally, a click.

“Hello?”

"Please," Megumi chokes out, terror making his voice crack. "We need help. Gojo's gone and there's something in the apartment and—"

“Whoa, slow down—”

Tsumiki takes the phone frantically.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Something's wrong, there’s something outside, and Mister Gojo isn't here, and we found your number, and—"

“Hey,” you whisper softly. “Just relax a second. Who is this?”

"I'm Tsumiki," she says, her voice steadying slightly at the calm in your tone. “Is… is Shoko there?”

“No… I’m a friend of hers—”

“Mister Gojo is away,” Tsumiki interrupts. “We’re supposed to call Shoko if anything happens, but my brother Megumi called your number instead—”

A low, rumbling growl cuts through the air, causing both children to freeze. Megumi's eyes widen as he sees something move in the shadows, something with too many limbs and eyes that gleam with malevolent hunger.

"What was that?" you ask, your voice sharp with concern.

"There's something here," Megumi says, taking the phone from his sister. "Something... not normal. The shadows are moving, and—"

Another growl, closer this time. Tsumiki lets out a small whimper, pressing close to her brother. Megumi's head snaps up, green eyes narrowing as he listens intently.

"Megumi?" Tsumiki whispers, voice trembling slightly.

He holds up a hand, signaling for quiet.

Megumi's mind races. Satoru had drilled them on what to do in emergencies, but faced with the reality of the situation, panic threatened to overwhelm him. He grabs Tsumiki's hand, pulling her towards Satoru's bedroom.

"Hide," he hisses, shoving her towards the closet. "Don't come out no matter what."

"Megumi, don't!" Tsumiki shrieks, but he ignores her, peering around the corner.

Megumi peers out into the empty. The looming darkness is filled with whispers that he isn't sure are in his head or not. There’s a crash outside and his heart races — is someone trying to break in?

He rushes back to Tsumiki and hides in the closet with her, the phone muffling your voice as he shoves it in his pocket.

“What’s going on?” you demand.

“Shhh,” Megumi whispers.

His heart pounds as he and Tsumiki huddle in the closet. The darkness seems alive, pulsing with malevolent energy. A foul odor seeps under the door – rotting flesh mixed with sulfur.

Through the crack of the closet door, Megumi sees it. Tsumiki bites her lip to stifle a scream.

Standing before them is a grotesque creature, its body a writhing mass of shadows and tentacles. It's barely humanoid, its body a writhing mass of shadows and teeth. Multiple yellow eyes blink at random across its form. A gaping maw lined with needle-sharp teeth stretches open, dripping black ichor. Tendrils of inky blackness slither across the floor, probing every corner of the room. Where they touch, the carpet withers and disintegrates.

A face emerges from the writhing mass - if it can be called a face at all. It's a nightmarish patchwork of mismatched features, eyes blinking open and closed at random across its surface. A mouth stretches impossibly wide, revealing row upon row of needle-sharp teeth.

Megumi's breath catches in his throat. This is something far worse than an intruder — a cursed spirit, the kind Satoru had warned them about but never fully explained.

The spirit pauses, its grotesque head swiveling towards the closet. Megumi's blood runs cold as dozens of eyes focus on their hiding spot. He knows, with bone-deep certainty, that they've been found.

Megumi's mind races. He knows he shouldn't use his technique, but what choice does he have? As the creature reaches for them with elongated, clawed fingers, Megumi summons every ounce of courage he has.

"Divine Dogs!" he shouts, his voice cracking.

Two massive, spectral hounds materialize, their fur crackling with otherworldly energy. They lunge at the shadow creature, tearing into it with ethereal fangs. The being shrieks, a sound that makes the windows rattle and the children's ears ring.

Just as the dying spirit lunges toward them, the bedroom door explodes inward. A familiar figure lands in a crouch, cigarette dangling from her lips. A familiar figure lands in a crouch, cigarette dangling from her lips.

"What the fuck," she mutters, before springing into action. “Get back, kiddo!”

Megumi panics and turns to see Tsumiki shaking in the corner, his heart leaping with adrenaline. Immediately, he covers her as a shield once he realizes that the cursed spirit is regenerating its limbs.

"Hey, ugly," Shoko drawls, flicking ash onto the carpet.

The spirit whirls to face her, letting out an ear-splitting shriek. Shoko doesn't flinch. Her hands move in a blur, tracing intricate patterns in the air. Blue light crackles between her fingers, and the temperature in the room plummets.

"Megumi, Tsumiki," she calls out, not taking her eyes off the spirit. "Cover your ears and close your eyes. Now!"

The children obey without hesitation. Even with their eyes squeezed shut, they see the flash of brilliant light through their eyelids. The spirit's shriek cuts off abruptly, replaced by an odd sucking sound, like air being pulled through a too-small vent.

With a final, ear-splitting shriek, the creature implodes, leaving nothing but a fading wisp of darkness and dark purple blood.

"You kids okay?" Shoko asks, her usual nonchalance tinged with genuine concern.

Megumi nods shakily, helping Tsumiki to her feet.

"How did you know to come?" Tsumiki asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shoko's eyes narrow when she hears a tinny voice. "What is that?”

In the sudden silence, Megumi becomes aware of the voice still coming from the phone in his pocket. His eyes widen when he remembers. He fumbles with the phone, putting it on speaker.

Shoko immediately recognizes your voice. She snatches the phone from Megumi's grasp.

"What's happening?" you yell, your voice tinny and distant.

"They're safe," she says, her tone clipped. "I've got them."

"Shoko?" you gasp. "What the hell is going on? Where's Satoru?"

Shoko sighs, running a hand through her hair. "It's a long story. He's on a mission."

"A mission? And he left two children alone?" The anger in your voice is palpable. "What the fuck?”

Shoko takes a long drag from her cigarette, her eyes darting between the kids and the phone.

“You know how he is,” she mutters, avoiding their gazes now.

"Look, I've got this under control. You don't need to—"

"Under control? Are two children getting attacked what you call fucking under control?”

Megumi and Tsumiki exchange glances, sensing the tension even through the phone line. Shoko sighs, her usual sardonic demeanor slipping for a moment.

"They weren't supposed to be alone," she mutters. "I was meant to check in, but..." She trails off, guilt etched on her face.

"But what?" you press, your voice sharp.

"I got held up at work. A bad case. I lost track of time."

There's a moment of heavy silence. When you speak again, your voice is quieter, but no less intense. "So you’re at his apartment now? He has an apartment? How are the kids?"

"Obviously he does — he’s rich… anyways, that’s not the point," Shoko huffs, glancing around the disheveled room. "The kids are okay, just shaken up."

"I'm coming over," you say firmly. "Text me the address."

"Wait, from Kyoto? I don't think that's a good —" Shoko starts, but you've already hung up.

Shoko stares at the phone for a moment, then turns to the children. Megumi is watching her with those unnervingly intense eyes, while Tsumiki seems to be on the verge of tears.

"Alright, kids," Shoko says, stubbing out her cigarette. "Let's get this place cleaned up before our guest arrives. And maybe... maybe don't mention the whole cursed spirit thing to them, okay?"

Megumi nods solemnly, but Tsumiki speaks up, her voice trembling. "Who was that? On the phone?"

Shoko hesitates, choosing her words carefully. "An old friend. Someone who cares about you two, even if they don't know you yet."

She gives a wry smile and surveys the destruction of the apartment — a shattered window, scorched walls, blood on the carpet. Luckily, it’s all replaceable, but she knows that Satoru will whine about the damage despite the fact that he should be blamed for leaving two elementary schoolers alone in the first place. Ironically, the worst damage to him will be whatever words you have for him once you get back to Tokyo. She almost laughs at the idea.

The night wears on, the silence broken only by Shoko's cleaning and the distant sounds of the city. She puts the kids to bed as she cleans, eventually passing out on the couch.

Hours later, when the first hints of dawn begin to color the sky, there’s a knock at the door. Shoko wakes up and tenses. She immediately senses Tsumiki in the corner, the damn early bird. Her big eyes watch her curiously.

“It’s okay,” Shoko calls to her. “It’s probably… our, uh, guest.”

She opens the door, revealing a figure silhouetted. Tsumiki cranes her neck to get a better look.

You enter the room, your eyes immediately scanning for threats before settling on Tsumiki. Your expression softens.

The air in the apartment feels charged, the earlier supernatural encounter leaving a macabre energy. The residuals are everywhere. They’re suffocating. You can taste the metallic tang of blood in the air. It’s faint but present. 

“What… the fuck happened?”

“Just a.. break in?” Shoko says sheepishly. She isn’t sure if that sounds better or worse than a supernatural entity.

You stare long and hard at the dried blood on the carpet. A cursed spirit.

“Why in the world would the kids attract a curse that big? Was it a special grade?”

“No, no,” Shoko sighs and shakes her head. “A Grade 2 at best. The kids were just spooked. They’ve probably never seen anything like that before.”

You pause, narrowing your eyes.

“Are you going to explain to me why Satoru is housing two children despite not even being able to stay with them?”

Shoko glances at her phone, which somehow managed to get shattered in the chaos prior. The screen glows 6:23 am. She sighs.

“Sit down. I’ll make some coffee.”

__

Satoru is barely awake when he returns to the apartment two days later. His hair is disheveled, the bluish veins underneath in his eyes more prominent underneath his nearly translucent skin. As he approaches the door, he senses something different — cursed energy that’s vaguely familiar. His heart skips a beat.

Something is wrong, but there is also a presence that is rather… comforting behind the door. He can’t quite place the energy. His stomach flips. He pauses, hand hovering over the doorknob, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

The sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. There you are, standing in his living room, your eyes blazing with a fury he hasn't seen in years. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches the highlights in your hair, creating a halo effect that makes you look almost ethereal. For a moment, Satoru forgets to breathe.

He freezes completely. It has only been two months since he’d last seen you, yet you’re more beautiful than ever. You’re here. In his apartment, in the flesh. You’re real and solid and so achingly familiar that it makes his heart clench.

“Y/N,” he breathes. Something in you aches when you hear your name from his mouth instead of Twigs.

Before he gets another word in, you launch into a tirade that would make lesser men cower.

“What the hell were you thinking, Satoru?" Your voice is low and dangerous, each word sharp as a blade. "Leaving two children alone in an apartment? Do you have any idea what could have happened? What did happen?"

Satoru opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off with a raised hand. Your words come out in a torrent, each one hitting him like a physical blow.

“No, you don’t get to speak right now. I don’t care if the higher-ups threatened an execution on you if you didn’t take whatever fucking mission you went on! A Grade 2 was here, Satoru. With two defenseless children.”

You're pacing now. Your hair whips around your face as you turn, and Satoru is mesmerized by the way the morning light catches in it.

“And what's this about you taking in two kids, anyway? Since when are you qualified to be a guardian? You can barely take care of yourself! You thought you could do this on your own and have Shoko play babysitter knowing she works her ass off at the morgue? What were you thinking?"

As you continue, gesticulating wildly, Satoru feels a mix of emotions swirling within him. Guilt, certainly, for the danger he'd inadvertently put Megumi and Tsumiki in. Concern for their wellbeing. But underlying it all is a current of... something else.

Your passion, your righteous anger on behalf of the children - it stirs something in him. The way your eyes flash, the way your voice rises and falls with emotion, the way your body moves as you pace and gesture - it's intoxicating.

Satoru knows he should be ashamed, should be apologizing, explaining. But a part of him - a part he's not proud of - is thrilled by your anger. It makes heat pool in his stomach. It means you care. It means you still feel something for him, even if it's fury.

He should be focusing on your words, on the valid points you're making. But part of him is lost in the way your lips form each syllable, the way your hair falls across your face as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Are you even listening to me?" you demand, snapping him back to attention.

"Every word," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You falter for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. Then you continue to rally against him, launching into yet another tirade, and despite the passionate cadence of your voice that he loves so very much, he can’t help but have that fade into the background as he stares at you. Your presence alone is starting to make him feel dizzy.

He's vaguely aware that he should be defending himself, but he can't bring himself to interrupt. Instead, he drinks in the sight of you, cataloging every detail. The way your brow furrows when you're particularly upset. The slight tremble in your hands as you wave them around.

As you continue to berate him, Satoru finds himself fighting the urge to pull you close, to silence your anger with his lips. The thought shocks him - he shouldn't be thinking like this, not when you're rightfully furious with him. But he can't help it. 

You’re still pacing, not even really looking at him as you go on about how fucking stupid he is, and how childish, which somehow progresses into you rambling about one time a few years ago when you were sick at his house during a winter break and he had managed to start a fire while attempting to make soup for you, because that’s how fucking stupid he is. 

You don’t even notice him stalking towards you until he takes your arms in his hands, steeling his grip on you so that he can kiss you square on the mouth. You whine petulantly, pushing him away. He feels a strike on his right cheek that is… well-deserved, honestly.

Your mind reels. You’re not one for being physical besides sparring, but you’ve never hit Satoru in your life. Part of you feels guilty for a millisecond. Part of you is surprised that he let you through his Infinity.

“I– What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you always do that? You do that literally every time we have a fight–”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I deserved that slap.”

“No shit,” you grit. “This isn’t fucking funny, Satoru. Do you even take me seriously?”

“Yes. You can slap me again if you don’t believe me. Punch me all you want.”

“Okay, don’t make it weird,” you mutter.

“What?” he frowns sheepishly.

You narrow your eyes. “I know you’re turned on right now.”

“Wha– I am not.”

“You are the most infuriating man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting–”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. His voice is earnest. “I really am—”

“Do not interrupt me,” you hiss. 

Yes, ma’am, he murmurs in his head. He lets you yell at him a bit more until you’re particularly out of breath. His gaze on you is still intense, slightly wanton, and once you finish your ranting, you fidget awkwardly at his commanding presence.

It’s now that you start to see him – although you’d seen him on Tanabata, it was brief and night. In the context of his apartment (you knew he could always afford one but didn’t understand why he never just lived off campus before), and the fact that he has a blooming bruise below his jaw, you realize that he’s grown. His features have sharpened. His eyes look tired, his hands more calloused.

You shake away those observations to focus on how livid you are.

“Do you have anything to say?” you snap.

“I really am in love with you,” he mutters. Your eyes widen. 

Before you can react, the door opens, revealing Shoko and the kids. Tsumiki, ever oblivious to the tension, lights up at the sight of Gojo and runs to hug him. Megumi’s curious eyes dart between the both of you. 

“Gojo-san! You’re back!” Tsumiki beams.

Satoru's eyes widen as Tsumiki barrels into him, wrapping her small arms around his waist. For a moment, his gaze flicks between you and the little girl clinging to him, his expression a mix of tenderness and uncertainty.

He bends down to hug the little girl, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"Hey kiddo, I missed you. Were you good while I was gone?"

Tsumiki nods eagerly. "Uh-huh! We made new friends!"

Satoru raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. "Oh really?"

"Mhm! Miss Y/N is so nice! She made us pancakes yesterday and helped me water all my plants."

A soft smile tugs at Satoru's lips as he looks at you. "Is that so?"

You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze. "Someone had to make sure they were fed," you mutter.

Megumi hovers in the doorway, eyeing Satoru warily. "Where were you?" he demands.

Satoru sighs, standing up. "The mission took a bit longer than expected.”

"You said you'd be back soon," Megumi accuses. "It's been days."

"I know, I'm sorry," Satoru says, looking genuinely remorseful. "I didn’t want to be away for so long. But I'm back now, and I promise I won't leave you guys like that again."

Megumi nods curtly, seemingly satisfied for now. Shoko clears her throat. "Well, now that the gang's all here, how about some breakfast? We picked up a lot of groceries."

As everyone moves towards the kitchen, Satoru hangs back, catching your arm gently. "Hey, can we talk? Please?"

You hesitate, torn between your lingering anger and the earnestness in his eyes. Finally, you nod. "Fine. But not now. After breakfast."

Satoru nods, relief evident on his face. "Thank you."

The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity as Shoko attempts to make French toast (with questionable success) while the kids chatter. You find yourself watching Satoru, the way he interacts with the children. There's a gentleness there you've never seen before, a protective instinct that makes your heart ache.

As you all sit down to eat, Tsumiki regales Satoru with tales of your kindness, how you taught her to braid her hair and helped Megumi with his homework. Satoru listens intently, his eyes never leaving your face. You flush under his gaze, embarrassed. You’d only been around for maybe two days to allow Shoko to rest and you were already getting praised so heavily by a nine-year-old.

"She’s the best!" Tsumiki declares through a mouthful of pancake. "Can she stay with us forever?"

Satoru chokes on his coffee, while you nearly drop your fork. "Ah, well," Satoru stammers, "That's... complicated, sweetie."

"Why?" Megumi pipes up, his sharp eyes darting between you and Satoru. “She should stay. She helped me beat Chocolate Island on Super Mario.”

“Well… Y/N is just visiting. She’s visiting from Kyoto.”

Your heart sinks at the sight of Tsumiki’s pout.

“I can stay for a little bit,” you interject. Satoru and Shoko look at you with surprise. Shoko’s raised brows falter as her expression turns into one of amusement.

“You should sleep in the guest room that I was sleeping in. I only use it when I have to stay overnight, anyway,” Shoko smirks. You blink at her, your eyes silently telling her to stop talking.

“Yeah! You should stay with us! It’s nice having a girl around,” Tsumiki chirps. “Pleaaaase?”

“I— I’ll have to check with the school. I still have classes and work on the Kyoto campus…” you say sheepishly.

“But you won’t leave today, right?” Megumi asks.

You smile softly. “No, sweetheart, I’m not leaving today.”

Satoru lets out a breath of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding in. The kids drop the subject, easily distracted by Shoko telling a story about an incident in the morgue with her underclassmen. While the kids squeal at the more… grotesque details of her story, you and Satoru exchange glances.

You can't help but feel that something fundamental has shifted. The Satoru you knew - reckless, carefree, seemingly invincible - has been replaced by someone more complex, more human. More vulnerable. The air between you feels charged, electric with lingering conflict.

"Hey," Satoru murmurs, his voice low and urgent. "About what I said—"

"Not now," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended.

Satoru nods, a flicker of something—disappointment? Relief?—crossing his face. "Later, then."

He moves on, immediately turning into his goofy, charismatic self as he engages in conversation.

And as much as you want to hold onto your anger, a part of you is intrigued by this new version of him. He had always been a bit immature and arrogant. He often didn’t take things seriously, but Satoru in the presence of children was something else. He was an accountable man, in more ways than beyond saving others from cursed spirits. A man who takes in orphaned children, who looks at you with such raw vulnerability in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever comes next. Whatever this is - whatever Satoru has gotten himself into - you're now irrevocably a part of it. And despite everything, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that maybe, just maybe, that's not such a bad thing after all.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Too Close For Comfort: The Night Before

--genre + trope: collegeAU!, SMUT, fluff, nsfw (not safe for work)

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x afab!reader

--word count: 2.6k

--warnings: P in V, nsfw, fluff/smut, cunnilingus, fingering, peter is a munch, peter's ambidextrous, unprotected sex (don't do this), and SO MUCH LOVE.

--gif credits: @peachyspaceslvt

Monday, October 18

The smell of garlic with hints of basil lingers throughout the halls of your shared apartment, along with the sounds of the city echoing in the kitchen. Wearing Peter’s shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, you nod your head to the beat as light jazz fills the air with a sort of warmth, it feels like home. Yet something was missing, a certain presence. 

As if putting it into existence, the familiar creak of the wooden door makes you stand up a bit straighter, your head turning towards the hallway. “There he is, the man of the hour,” you joke. An unknown force seems to pull you to him, forgetting the meal entirely.

A familiar smirk etches its way onto the man’s face, “Were you thinking about me, sweetheart?” 

That’s a stupid question, “Maybe I was, Maybe I wasn’t,” You tease, shrugging your shoulders theatrically. “Guess you’ll never know,” You walk back over to the food on the stove. 

Knowing he was going to follow you, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of your attention. The recognizable feeling of his arms wrapping around you sends a warm feeling through your body, his head falling into the crook of your neck. His warm breath fanning the sensitive skin on your neck sends a welcoming shiver down your spine. While swaying back and forth to the music you previously put on, you bask in this moment together. A grin makes its way to your face. 

“What do you think you're doing?” A pocket of peace that comes rarely to both of you, makes everything worth it. Every late night, every missed text, and every moment of worry makes this single moment worth it. 

He feels you slightly move in his arms, and loosens his hold just enough for you to turn around and face him. You come face to face with a cheeky smirk written on his face. He’s blissed out, too consumed by the mere presence of you to think about anything else. You envelop every single thought in his mind at this very moment. There is no mid-term he needs to study for, there are no bills to take care of, and there is no Spider-Man. Just (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Peter Parker. 

Too overwhelmed with his thoughts, his eyes flick between your eyes and your slightly pursed lips. “Are you going to kiss me, Parker?” He creeps closer to you, your back hitting the counter behind you. 

“And what if I did, (Y/L/N)?” He asked teasingly. 

A breathy laugh makes its way from your lips, “Then do it.” 

The boy pulled you in and then he kissed you. You felt as if your heart exploded a thousand times over in your chest. He held you close and drew you in as if he’s been yearning for you for years, but it's just been a few hours. You feel one of his arms unravel from around your waist, you hear the flame of the stove flick off. 

He brings that same hand up to cradle your face in his palm. He cranes your neck upward deepening the kiss, his hand moves to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair. His weight pushes you deeper into the counter, making you gasp at the feeling of it digging into your skin. There is no more space between Peter’s body and the surface behind you, only making it harder for you to kiss back.  

He breaks away from the kiss, noticing your discomfort, but you try to brush it off and kiss him again. He removes his hand from your now raveled hair, placing both hands on your thighs as he lifts you up onto the counter. His eyes dance across your face in his lust-filled trance. He brings both hands up to your face and quickly brings his lips back to yours before you can get another thought out. 

A moment passes when all you can do is pull back and look at each other, wondering where this energy came from. Before either of you can say anything Peter hoists you over his shoulder and starts walking to your shared bedroom. All you can do is laugh at how eager he is to take you to bed. While he is about to reach the door, a playful look arises to your face. You reach both hands down and give a hefty squeeze to his cheeks, giggling loudly while doing it. 

Out of surprise, he looks down at you, still walking, “Whoa there,” he laughs. 

Another chuckle leaves your lips, “I’m sorry! I had to, I was right there-”. He cuts you off with a quick motion to place you on your bed. 

“You want to be funny so bad,” He teases, dragging himself from the foot of the bed to meet you face to face. 

“You don’t think I’m funny-” You begin to say before he plants his lips firmly back onto yours. He sets both elbows beside your head to hold himself up as he manages to set his body in between your legs. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move from beneath him. You manage to take a deep breath in, only for him to steal it back from you again as he kisses the sensitive spot on your neck. He knows exactly what he’s doing, A soft hum leaves your mouth followed by a low whimper. Peter’s heightened senses pick up on all of your noises and movements, and you know this too. His right-hand moves from beside your head to move under your shirt, his shirt actually, and slowly glides to your left breast. 

He circles a finger around your nipple as you whimper again, a little louder this time. He begins to place sloppy kisses along your jawline and then down your neck, only adding to your arousal. He decides to ditch the shirt altogether, quickly pulling it off of you. Taking a second to admire you under him, he smiles to himself, completely in love with you and the idea that he is able to be in your life. “What’s wrong?” a pang of worry clouds through her mind. 

He smiles, “Nothing. You’re beautiful.” 

He takes off his shirt following his remark. You can’t help your wandering eyes as they trace every inch of his torso. You notice that familiar outline in his jeans, not too obvious, but definitely there. He reaches down slightly to pick up your hand, and without another second passing by he brings your knuckles to your lips and gives it the most delicate kiss. Tilting his head down, he cascades his way down your arm, pouring every ounce of love he has for you in each kiss until he meets your shoulder. Still holding your hand, he pulls you up to meet each other in a lustful gaze. 

Your legs slide out from under his and you both are kneeling in front of each other. Your hand leaves his and you place it on the button of his jeans, never breaking each other's gaze. You attach your lips to the base of his throat while your hand works to unbutton his pants. He groans in your ear as his forehead falls onto your shoulder. Carefully and slowly you tease the waistband of his briefs, not yet dipping under the material. His breath coming out unevenly as you tease him. 

You take your other hand and place it along his jaw forcing his gaze to meet yours before you fervently attach your lips to his. Your other hand still teasing the sensitive area of skin. He groans into your mouth as you dip your hand further down. You remove his lips from yours and quickly reattach them to the skin below his ear. His hands grabbed at her hips, not matching her handwork and teasing the waistband of her shorts. She began to suck on the skin of his collarbone, causing him to curse under his breath. 

“Fuck, I love you,” He mumbles into your ear. He’s no longer able to take the teasing and sits up on his knees allowing you full access to pulling his jeans and briefs down his legs. 

Carefully he places his hands on both sides of your head, on the pillow, before pushing you onto your back. With a sudden haste, Peter lowers his hands to the edge of your shorts, hooking his fingers under your underwear as well. You pick up on his actions and lift your butt off of the bed to give him easier access. The moment your clothes are off your body, they are quickly and mindlessly discard them on the floor somewhere in the room. 

You bend your knees to allow him to slide his arms under your legs while opening them as he makes his way up to your center. He makes himself comfortable and pulls you by your thighs, allowing him to be closer to your core, causing you to gasp in surprise. There is no hesitation for him to put his mouth where you need him most. He’s been waiting all night for this exact moment. Hours could have gone by, and Peter wouldn’t have noticed. All he needed was you, in your rawest form, writhing in pleasure. He focuses his attention on the collection of nerves first, then works his way down to lap at your juices that coat his tongue so perfectly. There was not a moment where he didn’t savor this moment, not a moan unheard, and not a reaction ignored. 

When he feels you’re ready, he slips his middle finger in. His digit is soaked by the time his knuckles reach your entrance. Pumping in and out, he searches for the gummy area that you love so much. He feels you tense as his finger curls inside of you, “Is that my spot?” he mutters, as you begin to whine in anticipation, “Oh yeah, that’s my spot.” Once he’s found it, there’s no end until he pulls out an orgasm from you. You know that, and he definitely knows that. 

He latches his mouth back on you, and along with his finger, it doesn’t take much longer for you to reach that high that you craved. Your back arches and you reach for anything you could hold onto. He notices this as you clench his middle finger. He pries his other hand off your thigh to hold yours. Your brain is empty, and all you can think about is Peter. You squeeze his hand so tight that he has to pause his mouth and finger to look up at you, wanting to witness what he thinks is the most beautiful part of you. He slips his finger out and raises his head to lay on your thigh, still holding your hand. He begins to rub his thumb on the back of your hand. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He speaks softly, as if not to pull you out of this lustful trance. His eyes never leave your panting figure. 

Breathlessly you reply with a sly grin, “Never better.”. You begin to sit up, taking a second before Peter follows your lead and sits up as well. Mindlessly reaching down to his cock to reciprocate his actions, he catches your wrist before you can do anything else. 

You quickly meet his gaze in confusion, “Sweetheart, you don’t need to do that. I’m alright, but there is something you can do to help.” You look down to see him fully erect. 

Oh. Oh. Her eyes widen in shock, still dazed from the events prior. 

He gently lays her down back on the bed, eyes no longer overflowing with lust. His gaze carries something more. He leans down and kisses her cheek with a grin, “I love you,” He whispers to her. 

“I know, Parker. I love you too.” 

Lining himself up to you, he cradles your face as he enters you slowly. As many times as you guys have done this in the past, he will always start slow, to partly savor in the moment but to also give you time to feel as comfortable as possible. You both gasp as the familiar feeling of being full regains your senses. He won’t move till you say so, but he wouldn’t want to move anyway. The first thrust almost overwhelms him, he feels good, almost too good. 

Once you give him the nod to start moving, he starts to rock back and forth, still cradling your face. He looks down at you to see your nose scrunch and then fall. Your eyebrows are raised in pleasure and your mouth slightly agape. He takes a mental note of this sight and stores it in the back of his mind. You look back up at him to see him already staring at you. There’s nothing but pure adoration between you too, and it makes your heart skip a beat. You love this man so much, there’s no other way of phrasing it. 

He bottoms out, and that’s when your body forces you to make a sound so heavenly, Peter could have come right then and there. He hit that spot again, and with his senses, he knows that too. The relentless stimulation takes you right to the edge and keeps you there for quite a while. 

There’s a moment where he thrusts into you, and that’s when you know he was close. Your previous orgasm was a stepping point to this moment. You don’t know how you’ve been able to hold off this long, and looking up at Peter, whose eyes are closed and the softest moans coming out of his mouth didn’t help. 

A spur of confidence enters your system, “You're going to cum, aren't you?” He’s so close you can feel it.

“Fuck- yes,” He groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You wrap your legs tightly around him, only pulling him in deeper. You feel him twitch inside you as he cums, his heavy breathing becoming apparent, only then sending you completely over. The clenching of your walls suddenly becomes too much for him, as he is overstimulated, sending a wave of whimpers out of his mouth. 

As he pulls out, the mixture of both of your climaxes begin to smear across your thighs. Although overstimulated, Peter takes no hesitation to run to the bathroom to grab a towel as you’re too blissed out to notice. With no second thought, he cleans you up, so you can be comfortable. You’re riding on a wave of adrenaline, your head is up in the clouds and the only thing that pulls you back down is the hand softly coming up to your cheek. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He teases. Your head turns to look at the clock placed on your bedside table. 

‘2:34 AM’, it reads. 

You just roll your eyes as Peter discards the towel and climbs back into bed with you pulling the covers up in the process. He pulls her close, wrapping his arms protectively around her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“I know I’ve said it a lot tonight but I love you (Y/N),” Peter whispers, combing his hand through your tangled hair delicately. 

You smile at him, your eyes filled with nothing but love, “I love you just the same.” 

Peter continues running his hand softly through your hair, making sure to untangle the knots that were formed earlier. You can’t help but sigh with pleasure at the intimate act. Despite everything you had just done, this felt better. Just laying here with him, skin to skin. Vulnerable. 

--author's note: WOAH HELLO! steamy asf, but very soft as well. if there are any grammatical errors, please forgive me. i wrote this in one sitting and I'm posting it at 1:15 AM. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog:)

[tigerpearlsworld]

Pick a card

( Why can't you find love ....where is the lack ? )

Before you chose the cards know that this is a general pick a card. There are infinite energies in the universe and the energies if align with your stars will guide you to my reading. So, welcome. Know that you can only chose one card. This pick a card is meant for your soul not for you to resonate but for you to realize when you get the message and truth in time. To pick a card you must follow your hearts tug and instinct and look deep within each image something about yourself rather than what you want it to be Breathe in and Breathe out, light a candle/ incense, meditate to the beating of your heart and let every thoughts come through and accept what is coming in your heart and then light and form a picture in your heart as you close your eyes and meditate in yourself. After that when you open your eyes choose the image where your heart calls for the most and remember your heart is your guide not your brain so.....

Sorry if my english is bad.

To those who chose the pile to know the answers of your love and its fate, i pray to the stars to bless you with pure energy and to give you strength.

Choose the pile :

Pile 1 : Eclipse, Pile 2 : Bondage, Pile 3 : Sheep

The reading starts...

Pile 1 :

Words which are coming for you as i start the reading of pile 1 are ( Searching, worry/anxious, gullible, sleep paralysis, haunted, support, sleep, protection, flow, knowledge )

Vibes : to take charge or be in control

Cards : ( 6 of wands Rx, Ace of cups, King of wands, 7 of pentacles, Death, Knight of wands )

I see in the strings of fate weaving your story in matters of heart and finding your love, i see struggle. No matter if you are good looking and very much desired and people fight over you but when it comes to you wanting a place to rest in someone else's heart you see yourself alone. Yes you get compliments yes you are envied but you have insecurities which are also in the compliments you get from people. I see in your heart space you long towards finding your sun, your king or queen but it feels impossible. All the choices you find are never to the satisfaction of yourself or the people who surround you as friends, family and supporters. At times you can get manipulative without even knowing and later on realizing you find it hard to admit. You like to be coddled but you also want to independent and be respected in matters of your craft.

I see that from early on in life you don't have the greatest of choices in people as your significant partner. In most times the choices you spare and give chances don't do you the same favor when the table turns in their favor. You are treated as the main girl but as time passes you feel that you lost your shine and spark with the so person you once enjoyed sharing with.

In your lack i don't see you having the scarcity of having no options but its more like after you get the man or woman you want, things just begin to spiral down. The question which comes is "So, what now?" you are a freedom seeking soul in heart yet you also crave the loyalty of a person to follow you in that adventures with you and that is hard.... because no one wants to follow your path. I see your fate in love is a hard one and one more like a sailor who is in a mission to find the one piece. i see that you wont be able to meet the love of your life in the region you were born, no.... you will have to cross oceans as in cross distances and have to go through a lot of internal death and soul transformation where you learn not to repeat the old cycle of habits then and only then you will cross path with your true love.

Your fate in love is a penance you must do, because if not, the heat of either your flames or your partner will burn the relationship and make the partner go blind or you... I see this heat will even cause the loop of chase and runner happening between you and your partner and if worse goes to worse there is also possibility of affair and unexpected children by your partner out of no where.

i see your fated partner can be a musician or singer, may be more earthy in approaches of medicine and can also be a huge healer. I also see you and your fated partner to share a lot of activities and being adventurous together.

The one message i have for you is don't go blind in rage or hatred. Be in control of your mind and its thoughts and be discipline with yourself in matters of health, food and routine. You may like horror movies or there is a lot of tendency in you to rage but you have to control your anger.... your anger will be your true enemy. Also try to be more in service for others. Lessen your feeling of being a victim and become more motivated towards empowering yourself and bring changes in your lifestyle for good.

the song which came for you during my reading, this may help or resonate with you.

Pile 2 :

Words which are coming for you as i start the reading of pile 2 are (Leader, universe, travel, burning, wishes, identity, punishment, heat, burning, karma)

Vibes : Want to punish the sinner/ Savior mentality / Defender

Cards : ( Knight of pentacles, knight of cups, the hierophant, 2 of wands, the devil, 10 of pentacles, temperance )

In the churning of your cosmos the stars says you are a force to reckon. you are gentle but fierce, kind but stern. you have all the abilities of a leader and people respect if you know or not. there is a sense of directness which you take and anything that comes in front of your speech or goal is not spare at all. I see you have a grandeur about you which you may have not realize till later in your life. I see that you are a very serious person who may not get what you want in life directly so you must grind and work hard for it. I see no obstacle can hold you back and that you are a person with serious loyalty and commitment. I see you crave for someone to dominate you in bed and i see you have wild fantasies with a lot of ideas. I see from younger years you had a sex appeal to you which was not missed by people and sometimes was also used to abuse or shame.

I see the lack you have in matters of love is not something which is missing but something which you have. Your serious undying loyalty is something which is to die for and very remarkable but it also drags you to the bottom of getting used and hurt in the process. I see even if you get abuse and the relationship is over the flames of your love and your loyalty is something which doesn't dies easily. "You love too much" and Once you make a commitment even if you die you wont let the commitment go....it is scary but it is you.

I see that in matter of having men/women you have people offering themselves to you but you don't want something shallow you want something deep, something dark . you want all the good, bad, ugly and worse of a person.

I see in the fate of your love life i see two soulmates or two marriages. There is two stories here it either goes like your first relationship was toxic and abusive but later on you divorced move on with your life ,started all over worked hard on yourself and career and suddenly everything began to get better and you met the love of your life and for every struggle you had early you get rewarded heftily this time

or

Your first relationship you marry the love of your life but something very unexpected happens in marriage which causes lose in some ways but you also gain something like honor, career, money, land, house but even after getting everything you still pay karma to your children and family in some ways. And you keep struggling to find a man who wants you for you and not for what you have in later parts of life. I also see there is a tendency to attract men younger than you.

either way in your fate of love i definitely see long-term marriage but there is karma to pay.

In this life for you what im getting as message to deliver is to not be so serious and be free, let go of self constraint you always put in yourself or you let others put on you. "Let go and be free."

This song was coming for me it was attacking me literally, it has messages i believe

Pile 3 :

Words which are coming for you as i start the reading of pile 2 are ( Connecting, Risking, Curious, Bipolar, Pure, Mutable, cutting, attraction, always questioning always confuse, burning, moving, domestic, wild, temptation, crossing )

Vibes : Taking all the responsibility/ Burning up

Cards: ( The magician, 6 of wands Rx, ace of cups, knight of cups, temperance, 8 of wands, 6 of pentacles )

In matter of your stars i see you are blessed by the heavens and all the angels. you are beautiful and very youthful in spirit. I see you were born with a mission this life time and woman fall easily for you. you have a allure which is very hard to resist. I see your energy is very masculine but at the same time its very feminine. you maybe bipolar, i dont know why but it just came. You may like milk product or your mother or you may even be a vegan or vegetarian by choice.

I see you have a very strong appeal to you and a very high vibrational manifesting power. whatever you dream in heart you can achieve you have that power. As because you're so youthful from inside your soul and heart i see like a child you can distinguish between a bad person and a good person. your judgement is very precise. your fashion is also very precise and on point. you do not like the idea of lack. I also see you like to meet people and engage in different parties, concerts, events, movies. There is a sense of innocence in your sexuality. For some i also see fluidness in gender of not knowing what or who you are truly ( i mean no disrespect, its just im getting the messages. ) for some of you I also see working or contributing to a lot of charity or non- profit organization for children and animal especially even old people. I also see you may find old people and animals cute and adorable.

Now in matters of what is the lack i see you are a natural giver. Yes, you like to give in love with open heart and you are someone who is very direct and honest about your feelings and emotions. But the problem of lack i see is the very nature of you being a giver, you are never satisfied you feel inside you there is this sense telling you to go and share your love and admiration with everyone equally. you are someone who may want to be in relationship but again that bipolar energy doesn't lets you stay in that single frame of devotion. You want to be free and roaming the world with your friends and have fun and accomplish goals and mission in life. The domestic idea in life of relationship although not out of reach for you but keeps you restless and uncomfortable when you're in one for long. There is also this fate where you and your partner just get bore or life in relation becomes mundane so naturally you guys fall apart.

In matter of fate in love if you are the one who wants the love seriously but still you will only encounter people or have people come to you who are either engage, married or in relationship. I see the stereotype of food being the way to heart is true for you as you really are a foodie. In the bedrooms i see you have this mixture of innocence and fire. I also see in matter of love there is a habit of cutting a relationship off without warning unexpectedly.

You may like beaches or sunset or just sun in general so i'll say to take the blessings of the sun and bath in sunlight in morning time also its recommended to do fire rituals and burn incense for purity of mind and soul.

A song which came to me when i was channeling this piles energy

[kitasgloves]

"Fallingforyou"

tracklist

— ♬ "I don't want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck"

— ♬ Suna x Reader, timeskip, SFW, fluff, gen reader, friends to lovers, mentions of smoking, no beta

What time you coming out?

Suna Rintaro bit his lip when he sent you the message. He didn't want to come across as desperate or clingy but it was getting difficult to deny it. He's afraid that at this point he'll never make it right if you don't wander off.  Suna starts to bite his nails as he anxiously waits for your reply. He knows you're busy and he'd be lucky if gets a moment to spend with you. He puts his phone down to fetch himself some Chuupet at the fridge when he hears his phone vibrate on his coffee table, he practically sprints to see if you have replied. And you did, telling him you'll be off your work later and he should stop by at your place. He's so excited for the night. All he needs is his bike and your enormous house.

Suna encountered you during college since you both shared a lot of classes. You always took a seat next to him during lectures and he began saving a seat for you whenever you were late, his heart never fails to throb when he finds out you did the same for him. He couldn't fuck with anyone at the time, people were either too eccentric or lackluster. But you managed to captivate him. You were laid back and had a fantastic sense of humor because you always made him laugh, which was not an easy task. You were a quiet genius, after all, Suna has copied your notes and homework throughout college. And you had the most honest soul he had ever met.

He couldn't think of anyone he was willing to bend backward for, break the rules for, and burn the world for. Your face always pops up in his head along with the scent of your sweet perfume, if only you knew what you do to him. These conflicting feelings followed him until the end of college. You and Suna remained friends despite rarely talking to each other. You and him shared mutual friends so he knows what you were up to when he's curious about your wellbeing.

You and him shared a lot of moments. From watching movies to smoking your first cigarette. Suna had everything recorded in his phone and his head. Every smile, every laugh, every frown, every fight, and every hug. Everything you did affected Suna. But he's still unsure how to deal with these perplexing emotions he held towards you. Till then you and him will just knock around and see if you're all he needs.

"Hi, Rin"

"Hey, it's been a while"

You open the door to invite him in, he carries a bag of your favorite snacks and some beer. Both of you settled in the living room, you were flicking through movies, asking him what he wanted to watch. But he shrugs and tells you to put on whatever you like. You'd play one of your favorites on the TV while you talked with him throughout the film, Suna would slip a joke or two to see you smile and then look at your lips whenever you took a sip of your beer. The evening ended late, you were tired from work and he didn't want to keep you up.

"Good night, [Name]"

"'Night Rin"

He tucks you into bed and contemplates if he should kiss you on the forehead, but he holds back and leaves your room. All the jitters and high from the night before remained in his system for a week and Suna knew he had to see you again. He chased the feeling you gave him, a sense of safety and comfort he couldn't find in anyone. The solace and freedom of being himself without giving a care in the world. He could only feel satisfaction when he was beside you. So he asks you again when you will be free, but now he discards how desperate and clingy he behaved.

It was during snowfall did Suna met up with you again. The weather was perfect for lovers to be entangled in the sheets and share body heat. You show up wearing warm colors and your favorite coat, Suna cracks a smile when you approach him dressed in black and grey. You suggested on getting coffee and he agreed, even if he didn't like coffee at all. The two of you sat together in a crummy cafe that you liked downtown, you were halfway through your coffee and he barely touched his. He was busy taking in every word you said and focusing on your face whenever you talked.

You were so close to him that he can smell that damn perfume again. Your shoulders were brushing he flushes. When he shifts his jacket and catches your coat again, he can feel his blush deepen when you look at him.

"Sorry..."

"Oh, no it's fine"

Suna begins to read between the line and touches your leg again, and again. You don't seem to mind, he's even starting to think you're inviting the feeling. He keeps his leg next to yours when you finish your coffee, at this point, his went cold. Suna thinks he should take it one day at a time. Soon you'll be his. But the problem is Suna wants you now. 

"I'll see you around, yeah"

"Yeah..."

He watches you walk away while the snow softly falls, his chest aching at seeing your figure disappearing in the distance. All Suna could think about was the next possible encounter, maybe then, he could comprehend his feelings about you. And maybe you're starting to feel the same about him too. So, he takes his time and patience to pounce on the perfect opportunity to hit you up again.

Suna waits for you at the park at almost midnight, he thinks that you probably think he's annoying for asking to see you every week. Nonetheless, you always agree to meet up. You were probably too kind to decline or maybe there was something more that he doesn't know. He doesn't often smoke but when he does it means he's anxious. He places the cigarette between his lips and lights it up, he inhales the nicotine and lets out a long exhale. That's when he sees your figure in the distance.

"Yo!"

You smile and walk up to him. Suna smiles and waves at you before taking another drag. When the smoke gets in your eyes, you look so alive. He thinks if you fancy sitting down with him on the bench because he's convinced that you're all he needs. You start the chat as usual and he would pay great attention to you. He waits for you to ask him for a cigarette but you don't. You and him talked until midnight and around that time, Suna felt himself crumbling. And you notice.

"Is there something bothering you, Rin? You've smoked three cigarettes now"

"There is but..."

"But?"

"I don't know how to tell you"

"Oh, Rin. You know you can tell me anything"

Your hand rests on his knee and he puts the cigarette away from his lips and smothers it with his shoe. He takes your hand and you flinch at how cold it feels, but you don't pull away, instead, you pull him gently into an embrace. Suna instantaneously melts in your hold. The feeling of your arms was enough to soothe him. He borrows his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he feels his heartbeat synch with yours. He feels like he should say it. He thinks he should say it. Suna pulls away and looks you in the eye, your orbs shining under the moonlight.

"[Name]"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to be your friend..."

"Why?"

"I want to kiss your neck"

Bewilderment bloomed in your features. Suna hoped the dim light of the lampost didn't catch the flushness of his cheeks. He gulps when there is a long period of silence, so he shuts his eyes. He doesn't see you do the same and lean forward. The next thing he knows is the feeling of your lips capturing his. The kiss begins slow and clumsy. When he grabs your cheek, it morphs into tenderness. The sound of his heartbeat blasts in his ears as he shares his kiss with you for the first time, something he has daydreamed about since then. No one was sure who pulled away, but now you two gazed at each other breathlessly. Suna inhales.

"I think I'm falling for you"

Suna finally utters. Your jaw goes slack momentarily before looking away. Don't you need him? He thinks. On this night, in this light, Suna confirms to himself that he is indeed falling for you. Now, he's both hoping you'll change your mind and preparing himself for a pending rejection. But when you gave him that blinding smile of yours, Suna's heart skipped a beat. 

"I think I'm falling for you too, Rintaro"

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[depresssant]

don't get me wrong, guys, i would DIE for satosugu, but i just had to do this

title : and i love you, darling

synopsis : but for now, satoru would run, and you would have no legs to chase after him.

aristocrat!gojo x writer!reader

〉❈〈

empty.

again.

you placed the quill gently on the stack of paper and leaned your head against the wall to let out a sigh. thunder rumbled and lightning lit up the dark sky as the rain that pattered a familiar tune on your window reminded you of why you felt this why⏤why you were this way.

there was nothing left.

he was once gone.

he was at the far end, but you had no legs.

he was on the edge, but you had no hand to reach out through.

he was too far away, and you were too close.

you expected it. it didn't hurt any less. what could you do except watch from the sidelines as you had always done? you had no mind to speak and no heart to feel. he would always run, and you would chase, but this? this was different. his laugh couldn't pull you out of the void you were slowly falling into if it was the one thing pushing you into it.

damn it, this hurt so damn much.

"[name]? [nameeeeeee]!"

...

"yeah?"

"you're being so quiet!" he whined. "and you're not listening to me!"

"i was."

"no, you weren't! anyways. back to what i was saying. suguru and i..."

he rambled off, and the thunder shook louder in your ears. it was always suguru. suguru this, suguru that⏤why couldn't it ever be [name]?

...

he didn't want it to be.

geto and satoru were made for each other like the sun and the moon and the night and day. you were just... dawn and dusk⏤all by yourself either longing for the sun or leaving it. geto was never seen with ink-stained fingers, geto was never seen messy and unkempt. he was perfect.

and perfect belonged with perfect.

as much as it hurt.

"[name]? look, is something wrong?"

everything was wrong. life was unfair. your heart was just so cruel.

"no. everything is alright. i'm just trying to get into the mood."

a teasing grin painted lips that you so desperately wished to kiss. "mood for what?"

"a short story i'm writing."

"tell me about it!" he demanded with a glimmer in his eyes as he sprawled over your bed. those eyes drew you in like a moth to a flame. those eyes had you drowning in an ocean you wished to never return to. those eyes... could never look at you the way you looked at them.

you grabbed your quill and dipped it in ink before scribbling away at the paper. "this woman is in love with a man she can't have. she has to learn to forgo her love as a disease slowly kills her. and besides! i can't write anything without understanding it, so i'm trying to act all sad and mopey."

satoru chuckled and grabbed one of your little decorations from off the table and began to tinker around with it. his hair was a fluffy mess as pink dusted his cheeks⏤an effect of the alcohol. earlier, he had hurled to his stomach's content, and you were there for him every second along the way. even in his formal outfit for that ball, he still looked so ethereal, like an angel too great for any other being.

that ball⏤the same one in which he had confessed his love to geto.

the scent of flowers evaded your noses, but you took in a deep breath so that your coughing wouldn't storm in to interrupt the serene moment. maybe you were just delusional. yet, the idea of geto not sharing something like this made your greedy heart twist in satisfaction. he would never see satoru from the eyes of yours. no matter how hard he tried, he would never love him like you could, and that was something you'd let yourself keep for once. 

to be there throughout his entire life, joining him through the ups and downs, comforting and supporting him, knowing him better than anyone else, seeing him for than what he thought he was⏤that was what a soulmate did! not a lover!

"you know... he said he loved me back!"

...

but you were't his soulmate. gosh, the ways in which he talked to you made you wishing you were gone. you'd rather die than witness the man who owned your heart like it was a meager coin toss it away for gold.

a chuckle escaped your lips, and you looked down at him. "really?... really."

satoru rose abruptly, and his smile widened as his pace quickened with each word. "i pulled him to the side because i couldn't stand to see him dancing with a woman! we were on the balcony, and the sky was all pretty cloudy, and it was kind of sprinkling, but i didn't care! i HAD to tell him because i just couldn't hold back how i felt! i was even a little angry that he never noticed the way i cared for him⏤the way i loved him! i told him i was there for him all along, but he never noticed me in that way. geto was all grouchy, yet he quite actually lost his composure with every word i spoke, and then he shouted 'i love you' completely out of the blue! can you believe it?"

"i can't."

"and then we paused, and i grabbed his collar and kissed him. i kissed him! and then... i don't know, i just ran."

he spoke about geto like he loved him. he did. he genuinely smiled at the mere thought of him. satoru really was in love with geto suguru. all of a sudden, the sound of knocking interrupted your discussion. three quick knocks followed by a pause and a fourth knock.

your heart sank and satoru's rose.

he stood up excitedly, pulling you up with him by arm.

never hand.

he rushed for the door like he couldn't bare to spend another second alive if it wasn't with geto, and that distinct scent of flowers felt like vines wrapping tightly around your throat, leaving you speechless.

'no! i want you! i want you so dearly i would die if you left me!'

"suguru! What are you doing here?"

"to steal you away?"

'don't go, damn it! please, don't go!'

"would you be okay with that, [name]⏤if i took him?"

'no... no.'

"hah, of course. take your future husband, and don't bring him back."

"[name]! if you stay stuff like that, i never will come back!"

"i... hah! that's a dream i wish to become a reality."

he would come back, and that was the part that hurt most. satoru would lay in arms⏤arms of a coveted life, and you would lay in flowers⏤flowers of a discarded coffin.

but for now, satoru would run, and you would have no legs to chase after him.

[belladonnadawn]

Guilty as Sin?

"Without even touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?"

Your nemesis snuck in your dream in the most unexpected manner. CW: Mature themes ahead. (Congratulations Zaros wanters! You guys did it!)

Zaros x Reader

"I do not understand your anger. Where is this coming from?" It wasn't a genuine question– it never was. You could hear the cockiness in his voice along with his obnoxious smirk after attempting to get a reaction from you.

"Don't play dumb, Zaros." You continued to walk away from him, almost stomping your feet, not wanting to take the bait. You knew that once you responded once more, it would be a neverending heated banter between you two.

The hallway was too long, too narrow as if forcing you to deal with his presence. But your pride was stronger, you didn’t dare to face him nor fall for his antics.

Finally, you reached a secluded room, perfect for the alone time that you so long craved. You slammed the door open, he immediately followed suit before it closed. “Come on, let's talk it out like adults and stop acting like a child.” Zaros tried to catch up as you tried to avoid him.

Irritation finally took over you as yout patience wore thin. You turned to see his face, “You are the one following me and acting needy. As if you can't fathom not having my attention.”

“And what if I can't?” Zaros raised his brow, a hint of mischief evident in his face.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his answer, “Are you serious right now?” You spoke, not even bothering to hide your annoyance.

Zaros only grinned, walking towards you. You slowly backed into the corner, swallowing your nervousness as you try and analyze how things will go from here.

At last, your back hits the wall. He had you cornered, all to himself. “Why would I treat this as a laughing manner, Earis?” Zaros’ voice was low, smooth, and enticing. You can't help but feel captivated.

You wanted to bite back, to spit whatever insulting words you could think of, but all of those attempts fell flat as you looked in his eyes. You were enchanted– under his spell.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you felt his hand on your arm, slowly sliding to your shoulder. He was daring in a way that you never knew you needed. You swallowed, keeping your eye contact with him, heart beating out of your chest as he took your breath away. The tension was undeniable, the way he could make you feel such things was intoxicating. The feeling was addicting, you wanted more.

Summoning your bravery, you immediately pulled him by his collar, crashing his lips into yours. You could hear Zaros let out a small yelp, slowly turning into soft sighs. He held your waist, pulling you closer, your hand played with his hair.

His kiss deepens, taking you to new heights. He bit your lower lip, he grinned as he heard your moan. “That's right, let me hear it.”

Zaros gripped your waist, losing himself once again to your lips like a parched man waiting to be quenched; and you were happy to be his object of satisfaction. Every touch made you feel dizzy, as if all your mind could think of was him and him only.

Zaros pinned you further causing a low moan to escape your lips. You gave the same energy back. Even in between kisses, both of you still wanted to compete with each other. Either way, both of you are winners.

You both finally pulled away, catching your breaths after the moment you shared. Satisfaction and desire was written in your faces, and you both knew how to elevate the feeling.

"You're obnoxious." You teased with a small smirk on your face.

"And yet, you can't seem to get enough of me." Zaros grinned.

"That doesn't change the fact that I hate you." You bite back, enjoying the banter that you share.

"How about you show me how much you hate me?" He leaned, you felt his hot breath on your neck, trailing small kisses. You felt your knees weaken, your breath hitched at his gesture. His hand went under your clothes, caressing your skin softly. Zaros’ soft kisses along with his sensual touches lit a fire in your heart. He was in need of you, and you are in need of him.

You gasped as he began to remove some of your clothing. A part of you would've indulged in his actions, but you were as needy as him. Your hands wander around his body, relishing at his physique. A grin in your face widened as it landed at his waistband. Zaros let out a low chuckle, he leaned towards you whispering in your ear. "This time, don't hold back."

Catching your breath, you jolted awake. You look around your surroundings, trying to ground yourself to reality after experiencing what you experience. What happened was beyond you and you like to keep it that way.

You were revolted, disgusted and... aroused?

Shaking your head, you did not want to entertain those thoughts, let alone linger. You admit that Zaros is attractive, but to have that dream of him? It was unacceptable.

You left the bed, making a beeline to your bathroom hoping that the cold water would clear your mind up.

"Your grace, are you alright?" Your servant asked, noticing your pale face and troubled appearance.

"I am fine, I... just have a lot of thoughts." You brushed off, not daring to share the egregious dream that you had to a mere stranger.

He nodded, "Anything you want to help you ease it?"

"No, nothing." You grabbed your book, avoiding the elephant in the room. "I will unwind in the garden. If there's an important matter you want to discuss, only if it's important, seek me and you will find me there."

The path was quiet as everyone was tending to their duties, it was the perfect atmosphere to unwind about the salacious thoughts. Your footsteps echoed in the hallway, a peaceful sound to fill your thoughts.

You finally reached the garden. A content sigh escaped your lips as you finally reached the perfect place to take your mind off whatever happened. You sat at the gazebo, surrounded by beautiful flowers and the sound of nature. You finally felt peace.

“It seems that I am not the only person to relax in this garden.”

As you heard his voice, all you wanted to do was explode on the spot. Your peace was beyond ruined and you're now at your wits end. “How may I help you?” You politely turned to him, putting the book in your lap.

“I am just here to appreciate nature, your grace.” Zaros replied with a teasing smile.

“Then do so.”

Zaros nodded. You didn't mind what he was going to do, you never wanted to pay attention to him, especially after what happened. But to your surprise, he sat across from you.

Closing your eyes, you prayed to the gods for patience. “I have other matters to attend to. It was nice seeing you here.” You abruptly stood up, causing the book to fall from your lap.

In a sick coincidence, you both reached for the book. You flinched out of surprise as your hand and his touched. Suddenly your dream flashes in your mind once again. Your cheeks turned red, you were flustered, a mess; and to others you're strange and unwell.

“Are you alright?” Zaros looked at you, confusion written on his face.

"I am not in the mood to entertain you, Zaros." You spat, you didn’t care about anything. You just wanted to get away from him– get away from those imagery that continues to linger.

Zaros was taken aback, his face face was filled with confusion, but he immediately composed himself. "Well then, your grace," His voice laced with sarcasm, wanting to give you the same energy back. "I shall take my leave. Enjoy the garde–"

"I will." You abruptly walked out, leaving him standing alone in the garden.

Once you're out of his view, you lean behind the pillar trying to calm your heart that seems to beat wildly at his mere touch. Zaros is your guilty pleasure and there's no way to deny that.

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — prologue

masterlist | day 1

it's cold. too cold.

it's a little too late at night for any customers to arrive. tokyo is deemed one of the many cities that don't sleep, but with how quiet it is inside and out and the snow collecting softly on the windows, it seems that the world has come to a slumber.

the overhead lights flicker, slightly. someone would have to squint their eyes to see it. the freezers hum in the background, forever running for the satisfaction of others. a gentle melody that neither of them knows the name of loops from the speakers. it's just about the same as every other branch in the city.

and yet, for them, it's a sanctuary.

to escape from the reality of their lives is a blessing, and they find that solace in the walls of the convenience store, almost every night.

he likes to observe her. when their shifts align and they find themselves seated together behind the register, just like every other night, he observes, and observes, and observes, but he can only absorb so much. the color of her hair. the tint of her cheeks. the little habits.

he knows there's more to it. that, beneath the mass of flesh and muscle and bone, there are more intricacies than he could count on his fingers. but he reminds himself, every night, that there is no point in bothering himself with it. because, after all, they're just coworkers.

the alarm on his phone, set at exactly 11:30 in the evening, rings inside his pocket. they're both pulled out of the reservoirs of their minds and dropped into something more secure, something more familiar. a routine.

while he gets up to sanitize the counter, she moves to the register, the metal clinking at the little drawer pops open (he doesn't know, but she counts the money in her hands and wonders what it'd be like if it were all hers, just for a day). the heater shuts off and the door to the break room clicks shut. old shoes squeak against old tile while pen meets paper, little notes jotted into her mind that she'll (hopefully) remember to tell her manager about tomorrow.

silence washes over like a blanket. they don't fight it.

a sense of agreement, albeit not verbally disclosed, is shared between them — that much has been established since they were both employed, standing side by side in a line full of newcomers with too little shoulder space. there is no need to say anything. there is no need to do anything, other than their job. it's routine. it's necessary. it's comfortable.

but, the night shift drags on. and the more it does, the more he wants to break the routine.

ᡣ𐭩 thank you for choosing to read the night shift !!

ᡣ𐭩 this is one of my favorite projects ever i think. i'm so so excited for it

ᡣ𐭩 i wanted to introduce the ambiance and general vibe first so i hope this little prologue captured it well ^_^

ᡣ𐭩 in case you missed it, the convenience store that kags and yn work at is a common branch in this au. therefore it's not exactly a mega company but it's not a family business either

ᡣ𐭩 yn texts the manager's son bc he's an old man who stays around just for the fun of it. may or may not hate the son's guts, bc he's a bit of a privileged nepo baby

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama is a people watcher imo. bc of his analytical skills that are constantly applied to volleyball, i feel like he tries to apply similar skills to those around him sometimes. and who better than his coworker !!

ᡣ𐭩 anyways. i hope this smau turns out well !!

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @winniethepooh-lover

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[ot9snumber1]

POLY!MISAMO POLY!MISAMO

im here!

yk me and bondage we just go together..

sub!momo getting tied to the bed bc she lost a bet of who could go the longest without touching themselves, sana and mina playing with her until she gets whiny and crying mess because of overstimulation..

I LOVE YOU!! always the first to save me <3

YES OMG :( misana intentionally made the bet with a drunk momo because they knew she would never ever last. even if sober momo swore she would never lose a bet (jihyo's competitiveness totally rubbing off on her), there were some things she just couldn't resist.

just as they thought things couldn't get any better (or worse, for momo), mina was out celebrating a friend's birthday and sana was out for another graff photoshoot.

in short, momo didn't even last a day.

sana was the first to tease her, sending her a selfie from the dressing room. she was only wearing the lingerie set mina bought her a while back with a very expensive necklace accentuating her cleavage. too bad you're not here, love. would do anything for you to eat me out rn :(

momo takes deep breaths and takes a cold shower. she just responds with a thumbs up emoji, making sana laugh. momo isn't a fool. she knows when she's being tricked. even if mina tried to get her to break the bet, too.

i don't think i ever sent this to you. thought you'd like it.

momo thinks she could implode at any given moment now. she stares at her phone, frozen as she stood still in the doorway to their shared room. mina was Evil. capital E.

the video mina sent seemed to be hastily recorded. the phone must've fallen over before mina hit record, because all she could see was the ceiling of the bathroom. not that she needed to see anything, anyway. she recognized the scene almost instantly.

"ah—fuck, fuck me right there!" mina moaned. momo felt herself blush, unable to click off the video. it was when momo had bought her current favorite strap and couldn't even wait until they got home to test it out.

momo takes another cold shower, but that didn't help either. her girlfriends were just far too stubborn to let her win just this once.

we'll be home soon <3 sana texted. momo felt happy at that, dreaming of being able to cook for them again, cuddle, kiss, et cetera.

until sana followed her message with a video of mina sucking on her tits.

that was momo's last straw.

"f–fu—ah!" momo whined as she inserted another finger into herself, barely being able to hold her phone. she tried to focus on rewatching the video over and over—but just the sound of sana's sultry voice commanding mina to do what she wanted was sending her into overdrive.

they wouldn't find out, right? if momo was just careful enough...

sana laughs maniacally when she steps into the bedroom. she didn't even need to walk closer to see the big damp spot on it. "mina!" sana calls out as she ran down the stairs to reunite with her girls. "i think our little momoring owes us something."

momo's heart drops. she'd never been more scared and turned on at the same time.

momo tries closing her legs again, the feeling of sana's fingers in her and vibrator on her clit just felt like too much. sana slaps her thighs lightly, forcing her to hold them open. "take it, slut. isn't this what you wanted? to be used?"

sana returns to overstimulating momo while mina pinched and sucked at her nipples. momo let out a high-pitched whine, tears streaming down her cheeks. "mff—fuck! please, i'll be a good girl i swear—"

"should've thought about that earlier, no?" mina teased. "you know how she is." sana hums, smiling in satisfaction when momo cums for the umpteenth time. "can't think about anything but fucking and being fucked."

both sana and mina laugh at that. "yeah. our baby is just a filthy–minded freak, hm?" mina coos as her fingers trail down to replace the vibrator sana held against her clit. "shit!" momo cried out, throwing her head back and wanting nothing more than to hold their wrists in place. (too bad her wrists were the ones being held in place. there was nothing prettier than sana's necktie restraining momo from doing anything but cry, in mina and sana's opinion.)

"answer." mina says lowly, slapping her cunt. momo whines again, her voice raspy from how much she's screamed so far. "y–yes! j–jus' a freak for you two."

sana chuckles again, curling her fingers in momo. "atta girl."