#and his old one held up but... eh

[asterbats]

Some much needed revamps for Team Charge and their ex teammate!

Notable changes:

-They got a name now

-Alli’s been renamed to Aisling and she is now the leader of the team somehow, she is now a lazier person who prefers to stay inside and play video games all day- but somehow seems extremely energetic and alive when she’s in a dungeon. She is also an Ambipom hybrid instead of an Aipom one.

-Felicity’s jacket is gone sorry. She still wears it casually sometimes but it doesn’t work with her new gauntlets. The gauntlets... might change, I’m not quite happy with them, but they have retractable claws made from shedded Excadrill claws and they both assist Felicity in battle (in place of actual attacks) and help store up her aura just enough to use one ice or dark type attack now and then. She also has no claws of her own.

-Marlow is green.

[performing-personhood]

The most relatable thing ever to happen in DS9 was Quark, a bar manager and lead bartender, finding out about that his bar is catering a gigantic private event twenty minutes before the doors open.

STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE - S7E18 'Til Death Do Us Part

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ! ❞

❝ THEY TOOK YOU. SO SATORU GOJO DID THE ONLY REASONABLE THING — HE TOOK THEIR LIVES ! ❞

✧ pairing: gojo satoru x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo rarely loses his cool. except when it comes to you. so when you get taken and found hurt, he takes matters into his own hands to find out who did it and make them pay.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, canon compliant, feral gojo, acts of violence, reader gets kidnapped and attacked, gojo goes insane, gojo clan sucks, higher ups get asses best, yaga and Ijichi featured, dom!gojo, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing,

✧ w/c: 8,446

The worst mistake Satoru Gojo ever made that morning was to get out of bed.

If he had just stayed in bed that morning, turned his cellphone on silent, and basked in the warmth of the soft comforter you had picked out (even as you balked at the exorbitant price) and especially in the warmth of your embrace — the one place where it felt as if it was okay to be himself, just him.

And now it was just him.

Because you were gone.

When his phone rang that morning, your lips had been against his, indulging in a lazy morning tryst because for once, Satoru had been off duty — or he was supposed to be off duty. Your gaze had been the ones to stir him from sleep, as even in the embrace of sleep he couldn’t resist you or your adoring eyes — the very same he held more precious than his own.

“I didn’t even say anything, how did you wake up?” And his lips curl at your slight frown, his fingers brushing over the curve of your cheek.

“Thought my pretty wife was admiring my beauty while I slept so I had to wake up to the same,” and he’s leaning over to press lazy kisses along your jaw.

“Did you just call yourself beautiful?” You snort, and he grins, before falling into a playful pout.

“My own wife doesn’t think her husband’s beautiful?” And you’re rolling your eyes, before rolling over on top of him, your body only covered by the black t-shirt you had stolen from him last night, a small groan as he felt your very bare thighs brush against his boxers.

You were a goddess — your smile ethereal in the sunlight streaming in from the window as you leaned over him, and he was willing to worship all his life at your altar, if you would only give him a brush of your lips.

“Of course I think you’re beautiful, I’m the one always saying that anyway,” your lips brush his chastely, far too quick and teasing, “I was just imagining what Nanami would say if he heard that,”

“Oh? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

“He would say the size of your ego is becoming a threat to Earth’s atmosphere,” and Satoru raises an eyebrow.

“And my darling wife would disagree, right?” and you look away, biting back a smile, “eh? You’d let him say such heinous things about me?”

“It’s not heinous if it’s true—“ you gasp, and he’s flipped you on your back, pressing his lips to yours to swallow your words, along with your giggles, as you break free, “Toru! Ah—“ and he nibbles at your neck, “hey!”

“You have to pay for the consequences of your actions, baby, what kind of sensei would I be?” And you’re rolling your eyes.

“I’m not your student, ngh,” you’re gasping as his teeth sinks into your neck, “if anything, I’m the one reigning you in,”

“Well then,” he chuckled in his words, as his fingers trace your jaw, “I’ll have to show you how far your student has come then,” and his lips only brush yours, when his phone rings.

“Baby,” you sigh, and he’s glancing at the phone, a sigh on his lips, as he reaches for the phone, sneaking a glance at you, before he picks up.

You press sweet kisses to his chest as you hear the faint murmur of Yaga’s voice through the phone, hearing reports of the special grades they’ve been tracking, “Old man, this is the first day off I’ve taken off in so looooong,” and he holds the phone away from his ear until Yaga’s screams fade, “fine, fine, send Ijichi,” he hangs up while Yaga was still mid-yell, tossing his phone on the bedside table with a sigh, “sweetheart,”

“I know,” you cup his cheek, his lips in a pout not made for the strongest sorcerer, but for your Satoru, “I’ll be here when you come back — waiting very impatiently,” and he chuckles, his lips finding yours.

“How’d I get so lucky to have such an understanding wife?” And your lips curl.

“You annoyed her into falling in love,” and he gapes at you as you giggle, until he’s got you pinned underneath him yet again, “what? It’s true!”

“Then I’ll have to annoy you some more, just to make sure,” and he’s finding you in another kiss, until his devilish fingers run down your sides, beginning their assault on the spots that made you laugh the most.

You pulled your lips from his, squealing, “Nooooo! Satoru, stop!” you tried to push him off from tickling you, but he was the strongest for a reason—a reason you usually were very grateful for, but not right now. And finally he relented, as you gasped and chuckled still, lips in the most adorable pout, “you’ll pay for that,”

“Oh really? How’s that, wifey?” and you kiss his lips chastely, barely a brush, as you cross your arms, fighting back a smile.

“That’s the only goodbye kiss you get,” and he gasps, clutching his chest dramatically, before that smirk of his returns, “and you try to steal one and I’m making you sleep on the couch,” And he pouts, before you press a longer kiss to his lips, “you’re lucky I love you,”

Satoru grinned, “I know.”’

Yeah, he should have never gotten out of bed.

“Where is she?” For once, Satoru’s words were devoid of humor, the laughter and happiness sapped from his very essence the moment he had heard. The moment he had felt your cursed energy waver. All this time, Satoru’s eyes had been focused on the outline of your soul, no matter where he was, because you were always the one thing he wanted to come home to — that he needed to.

“I don’t know Satoru, that’s why I had called you,” Yaga runs his fingers through his hair, “goddamnit,” he swore, scrubbing a hand down his face, “the mission came from the higher ups, they wouldn’t give me the specifics, but they said it was confidential—“

“I don’t care for the details right now, do we know anything about where she is?” Satoru keeps his words carefully measured, muscles wound taut, the only thing keeping him from using blue to destroy Jujutsu Tech in one fell swoop was the thought of you, “did she tell you anything else—“

And Ijichi bursts in, brow furrowed, “Gojo, we have a lead.”

~~~

Was this how it would end?

You knew it was in your fate to die, eventually. A wretched cycle that all of you were forced to live. An endless baton pass that always ended with the last runner dying — nothing but a pile of corpses left behind and to look back on.

And it would almost be a relief, a blessing to finally be done — if it wasn’t for Satoru.

You knew he would blame himself for this. He always blamed himself. Blamed himself when he couldn’t beat Toji. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Riko. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Geto. Because he was the strongest, and that meant he should be able to solve everyone’s problems — do everything no one else can do, be everywhere at once, and never fail.

Never. And yet, that’s not what the sleepless nights he spent working told you. It only told you that jujutsu would take everything from him, if he let it, and he would let it, if only that meant he could do more good.

And he was so good. Even if he didn’t see it — you could almost feel the lingering warmth of his embrace this morning, the wide grin on his lips as he peppered kisses down your neck, and the soft gaze of blues made of affection just for you — you would always see it for him.

You don’t see the curse coming, your vision blurred from the last strike. The crack of your bones barely registers in your ears, the curse presses you into the wall, claws pressed to your throat, drawing blood to run down your neck.

“Now, now, we can’t kill her, at least not yet,” a voice calls out, “we were given strict orders to wait,”

The curse’s growl reverberated across your skin, a desperate growl deep in its chest, the string of control being pulled taut, as its black nails dig deeper into your side, until it dropped you onto the ground like a rag doll.

Your body ached only for moments before it was chased away by numbness. And you could only wonder if this was how they felt? Riko, Haibara, Geto, all the others you watched die — was this the pain they felt? The ache of muscles that they could no longer feel, the sticky wetness of blood that seeped from their unknowing bodies, and the cold thst crept up from the tips of your toes.

You wanted it to stop. You wanted to stop. But each time you felt the tug of the other side, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t. Not when Satoru needed you.

Your eyes burn with tears. And you needed him.

~~~

“Where is she?” The same question was ringing in Satoru’s head over and over since he had heard.

Candle wicks trembled with fear, casting shadows on the wall that shivered in the presence of the man before them. The papered panels was all that stood between him and these old men — the very same that played with the lives of many day in and day out. It would be far too easy to kill them all — in fact, it would barely take any effort at all with his cursed technique.

But he wouldn’t allow them the warm embrace of an instant death.

“Such insolence — how dare you enter this place and speak—“

“You ought to be thanking me,” his power sparked in the glint of his eyes, the glow of the lit wicks catching in the hard blues, “for not bashing your skulls in and ripping your hearts from your chests from the moment I entered,”

A silence swept over the room, another voice speaking, “Gojo—“

“The next words out of your mouth better be an answer because I don’t want to ask again,” his voice fills the silence in the room, only broken by the sounds of the candles crackle, “where is she?”

“We cannot disclose where—“ there’s a loud crack, the splintering of wood and the wet squelch of flesh and blood, and a cold breeze swept through the room, the candles going out.

Satoru’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of his neck, forcing the broken floorboards digging into his wrinkled skin, “I said I want an answer, do you think I would think twice about killing any of you?”

There’s a pause and the silence is only filled by the sound of gore dripping down the paper screens and hitting the floor.

“The only reason I haven’t yet was there was no point to it — no meaning,” and he could see you this morning, his lips curled for you, a strangled choking noise leaving his throat as the pads of his fingers squeezed around his neck, “but now I have every reason to, so tell me before I lose my patience,”

A silence fills the room again, until one of them speaks, “Let him go, and we’ll tell you.”

~~~

“Who do you work for?” the words come out strangled, your fingers bunching up your soaked fabric and pressing it to the gash on your stomach, “why did you bring me here?” You force yourself not to give them the satisfaction of a flinch.

“Do you really think it would be that simple to get me to reveal the reason, jujutsu sorcerer?” you hear a distant laugh, “we have our reasons, isn’t that simple enough? Or rather—”

His footsteps clapped against the floor, your head wrenched upwards, as a small yelp escapes your lips, “does it matter when you’re going to die either way?”

And you grit your teeth, before spitting on his face, half blood, half saliva, “At least I don’t have to live a life as pathetic as yours,” his fingers squeeze at your chin, your jaw aching under his grasp.

“Pathetic?” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt before, throwing you to the floor, body screaming in pain, but you refuse to show weakness, even as tears burn at your tear ducts, “And yet, I’m not the one bloodied and battered and two inches from death, bitch,” he scoffs, muttering, “I can see why they ordered us to kill you now, who would want someone like you around?”

“Now I’m listening, who gave you those orders?” Another voice says from behind him. The man freezes, while you lift your head, a small smile on your lips, “are you hard of hearing or just plain stupid? Well, I don’t really need to even ask that, do I?”

He was shrouded in shadow, but you didn’t need to see him to know it was him — especially as he tugged his blindfold down with two fingers, blue eyes devoid of any humor or joy, and instead only with hatred.

“Satoru Gojo,” the voice left the man’s lips slowly, but before he could react, the special grade curse that had held you was barreling towards him in a moment, before Satoru held it at bay with his infinity, the other curses following suit — how many did this curse user have in the room with him? Three? No more like five or six, but even so — you scoffed under your breath, it wouldn’t matter, “No, you idiots! Don’t—”

And in a moment, they are eviscerated — held back by his infinity, deep seeded growls and roars leaving their lips, “c’mon now, is this the best you can do? I was expecting more from those bold enough to take my wife, but I guess I expected too much,” he sighs, before he lifts one hand, “Cursed Technique Amplification, Blue,”

You barely can make out the screams from one another, the splatter of their essence raining down from above, until you hear footsteps rushing towards you, and you’re hauled to your feet, pressed against the cursed user, his hand around your neck.

“One more move, and I break her neck,” Satoru landed below with ease, his gaze raised until he met yours, and you saw it soften for you — a silent question of ‘are you okay?’ and your nod and a forced smile that told him you were okay enough.

“You can try,” his words were slow and measured, just as his steps towards you were, “but I don’t think you understand who you are dealing with,”

He tensed, fingers digging into your neck, “I know perfectly well who you are, Satoru Gojo, and I am not afraid to die by your hand for this,”

Satoru’s lips curled, “I wasn’t talking about me,”

The kidnapper’s eyes narrowed, “What?”

And you jabbed at his knee, the bone splintering under your force, but you barely hear the snap or his scream because of the blood roaring in your ears. You don’t spare a second before slamming your other hand into his head, nose breaking from your fist, blood splattering across your arm. You ready yourself for another move, before you felt him ripped away from you, a strong arm around you to steady you.

“It’s okay, I got you, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Satoru murmured, soft words meant to soothe you, as his body envelops your tense muscles, until you finally relax into his arms. Your eyes burned with tears, as you looked up at him, before your eyes slid to the kidnapper, Satoru’s hand around his throat.

“I knew you’d come for me, Toru,” you whispered, grasping onto the front of his jacket, “I knew you would,”

“I always will,” and his eyes turned to the man, voice even, “should I kill him once I’m done questioning him?”

You know he means it.

“I don’t know,” you reply, fingers curling as you pressed your face against his chest, “but I don’t want you to have blood on your hands, not for me,”

“It wouldn’t be for you. It would be for me,” he says softly, “but we can discuss it later,” and then others began to flood the scene, the sights and sounds feeling distant as your eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“Satoru, I’m—“ your voice broke, “I really tried—“

“Shh, you did great,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion, slumping over in his arms, “I’ll handle the rest.”

~~~

“You all must be wondering why I called this meeting,” Satoru said, standing at the head of the Gojo clan’s meeting room. It had been long since he had stood as the head, but far too short for his liking. He had discarded this part of his life as soon as he could, joining Jujutsu Tech without a second of hesitation, and continued to run the operations of his clan as an adult, behind the scenes.

But it seems he was too lax.

It had been a few weeks since the incident. You were asleep for a good day in and out while Shoko worked on you. She came out of your room, pulling off the surgical cap off her head, and Satoru got to his feet, as Shoko removed her gloves and mask, “She’s fine, Satoru,” and he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“How bad was it?” he asks, and she tilts her head, hands slipping into her pockets.

“Are you asking that to know how badly she was injured or so you can do worse to whoever did this?” Satoru shrugs, lips parting and she holds up a hand, “never mind, the less I know, the better,” she grabs your file and opens it, “most of her injuries related to cursed technique burn out — it seems whoever took her used curse spirits to attack her, she mentioned when she was conscious briefly that they didn’t control the curses, but they seemed to be able to work with them somehow,”

“More intelligent curses have been appearing since Yuji became Sukuna’s vessel,” Satoru murmured, but this wasn’t related to the asparagus special grade or volcano head. It was separate — it was personal.

“But all of this to take a first grade sorcerer, why?” and he shakes his head.

“It wasn’t for her — it was for me,” and that’s why they hadn’t killed you, “is she awake?”

Shoko sighed, “She should be waking up in a bit. She didn’t need much aside from some RCT treatment and stitches for the wounds she sustained,” she places a hand on his shoulder, “go see her, and try not to murder anyone until she wakes up,” she turns to leave, heels clicking.

“Wait,” Satoru stops her, and she pauses, “I need a favor.”

~~~

Satoru never liked hospitals. He hadn’t spent much time in them for actual injuries, because of his abilities. However, he spent far too much time inside medical facilities for the Gojo clan’s required medical check-ups. It was to ensure the future head’s health, he was told, but really, it was an excuse to make sure their cash cow would still give them milk.

Because that’s all he ever was — a pawn.

But he had long shed that role, tossed it from the board, when he had left for Jujutsu Tech. But even so, he lingered outside your room, some things still stuck. Especially when he had new memories — of seeing his comrades dead bodies laid on cold metal slabs.

And would you have been another if he hadn’t made it in time?

Satoru shakes his head of his thoughts, and opens the door. You were still asleep. Tucked into the hospital bed, you looked so small somehow, fragile — two things he never saw you as. How could he have? When you were the one on his first day to greet him and then slap him when he had something pretentious or childish (neither of you remembered but you had insisted it was one or the other).

And he had never let you go after that. But now…he couldn’t even hold you.

The sharp beeps of the machine monitoring your vitals, connected by the tubes and wires that ran all over your body. He reaches for his blindfold so he can look at you, really look at you, but he can’t. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into the soft of his palms,

But you were alive. You were alive. You were alive.

That’s what he had to tell himself as he drew closer to your side — no matter how you looked now, you were okay. And that’s what was most important.

“Are you going to brood by my bedside all day?” his gaze snaps to you, your eyes fluttering open still, still drooping and exhausted, but a soft smile on your lips, “Because hospitals are depressing enough, Toru,”

He chuckles, forcing his tears back and his voice to be event, “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot to pull out the stops for you this time,” and his fingers find yours, lacing as they always did, but they felt so cold, “next time I’ll bring confetti, balloons, streamers, and I’ll serenade you even—”

You snort, “You may be the best at everything, but I know you’ll sing offkey on purpose just to piss off Shoko or anyone else that visits me,” and he laughs shakily, a sigh stuck in his throat.

He presses his forehead to yours, “I love you, so much, y’know that, yeah?”

“I love you too, so much, Toru,” you cup his cheeks, turning your head to press your lips to his hand, “thank you for saving me,”

“You saved yourself, I just cleaned up a little,” his lips find yours in a soft kiss, and your brow furrowed, “what? Are my kissing skills that bad?”

You roll your eyes, “No, but are you okay?” and he scoffs softly, shaking his head.

“You’re the one who got kidnapped and hurt, and you’re asking me if I’m—”

“Satoru, you asked me if you should murder that guy,” you tilted your head, “I know you’re not against killing if it’s necessary or deserved, but the way you said it, I got worried,”

“I’m fine, I just—” he cut off, “I just need to figure out who did this,” you squeeze his hand, “I have to,”

“Satoru—“

“I know you’re okay, but you don’t know how afraid I was that you wouldn’t be—“ he cuts off, “and it’s not just that,” his fingers curl around yours tighter, “it’s not just us we’ll have to worry about in the future. We’re already a family, but what will happen if someone targets you and our future kids?” He takes a shaky breath at the thought,

“I have to make an example.”

Your gaze grows sad, pressing a kiss to his lips, if only to ground him for a moment, “I know,” but you frown all the same, “but promise me, you won’t do anything stupid, ok?”

But he was far from stupid — but the people before him were as close as anyone could get.

“You all are aware of my wife’s attack a few weeks ago,” he said in measured words, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m here to tell you that she has succumbed to her wounds,” his voice wavered, breaking, “she’s gone,”

There were whispers and murmurs that swept over the room, all were silenced by the lift of a hand — one of the Gojo Clan elders, the geezer leader as he liked to call him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Satoru,” he said, lips twisted in a fake frown, “we heard that your beloved wife passed from her injuries a week ago,”

“And yet, I see you’ve brought someone for me to meet,” his eyes slide to the woman dressed for a wedding rather than a meeting, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The woman’s painted lips kept in a neutral expression, her body so rigid he could have mistaken her as a statue if not for his six eyes, and her eyes refused to meet his.

“Satoru, I understand you are mourning, but we have to think of the future of the Gojo clan, and our future place in the Jujutsu world is only as secure as the next heir—“

“And so you thought to disrespect my wife by trying to marry your choice?” but their brows furrow as he begins to laugh, one that sends shivers down their backs.

The elders all gape at him, sharing looks, before turning back to him as his laughter finally settles into a quiet chuckle, “Satoru, what is this?”

“It’s funny that you ever thought I’d fall for this bullshit,” he pulls off his sunglasses, cerulean eyes gleaming in the low light, “did you know my wife was never supposed to be sent on this mission? Or rather, there were no reports of cursed spirits in the area, but yet, orders came for her to report to where she was,”

A hush falls over the group, “And why are you telling us this?”

“Because I think you all have forgotten your place,” in a blink, he’s grasping the neck of the elder, the very same man who had taken him away from his parents at the age of two to ensure his training was done properly, “I am the strongest, not the Gojo clan. I’m the only Gojo needed for the clan to be prosperous,”

“You insolent child—“ Satoru squeezes around his neck, gasps and whimpers clawing their way out from his grip, veins bulging as he tried and failed to pull Satoru’s hands off. He had even let the old man penetrate his infinity and all he had managed was a scratch or two.

“You should be careful when you’re talking to the ‘child’ who has your life in his hands,” and he grows silent, “now, to get back to the point, where did those orders come from?”

A quiet washed over the room, the only sounds were the shaky gasps of the elder in his hand, “W-what are—“

“I had a chat with the higher ups — those rotten old geezers may not like me, but I know they like all their limbs intact,” he drops the elder and twists his arm behind his back, wrenching back until he heard a cracking noise, “and they told me the orders came from the Gojo clan, and I wondered why would my own clan send the wife of the head off to be executed,”

“Satoru—“ one of the elders spoke, and he tilted his head.

“If you want him to die, your excuses will only make this go faster,” and his mouth shuts, “I’ll take your silence as a confirmation that all of you had a hand in this,” he sighs, removing his sunglasses, running his fingers through his hair, “man, I’ve had conspiracies against me, but I never guessed you’d target the one person I value above everything else. But I knew you would fail her little test,”

He’s met with furrowed brows and gritted teeth, the elder looking up at him in fear, “W-what?”

“You see if I had it my way, I would have killed you all, no questions asked,” his fingers close over the top of his head, wrenching him backwards to meet his gaze, “But my wife, my very much alive wife,” he adds, with a glance to the woman looking increasingly faint with each second that passes, “she would want me to see if you’d come clean about the plan and whether some of you were innocent,” his lips curl, “but she doesn’t know the bloody history of the Gojo clan like we do,” and his fingers dig into the flesh of the elder, “so what’s a few more bloodstains?”

He tears off his head, screams ringing out as a rush of scarlet paints the walls, splattering across the other elders. The woman offered to be his wife rings over the others, her shrill shriek piercing their eardrums. It’s a dull thud as the lifeless corpse falls to the floor, as Satoru wiped the blood from his cheek, a cock of his head and eyes flashing with anger.

“You can’t do this! You—“ Satoru’s fist connects with his face, blood flooding his features.

“I can, because I’ve decided the Gojo clan needs to get rid of the tumors that infect it, and besides,” his body crumples to the floor as his foot slams into their stomach, a sick, wet noise that draws gasps and open mouthed silent screams from the others, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Please, please, she’s alive—” one of them begged, all of them falling to their knees, wrinkled faces contorted in fear, blown out eyes and faces wet with tears only making them more ugly than he thought was possible — he really couldn’t end up like these geezers, “we only wanted what was best—we wanted the next head of the clan to be even more powerful than you are—”

He laughs, not an ounce of mirth or levity, shivers running down the spines of the others who watched, as he stepped over the body of the elder, lips twisted into a wide grin, “And there’s your mistake,”

He loomed over the one who spoke, shadow cast over him, as his fingers curled around his arm, before breaking it off, spurts of blood splattering on his clothes, mixing with the other — some of it flecked across his face.

Satoru wiped his face with his forearm, tilting his head. He knew they were begging and pleading — lips moving, words forming, but it all fell on deaf ears. After all they had never bothered to listen to any sorcerer before, did they? Suguru’s face came to mind — flashes of the spring he would never get back — so why should he listen to theirs?

“You were too busy worrying about the next head, when you should’ve been worried about the current one.”

~~~~

You were asleep.

Moonlight gave way to your features in the pitch black room, your soft breaths warming his fingers that ran over your cheek. Shoko had discharged you yesterday, and he had brought you home — but even now with you home, he couldn’t sleep. It felt as if you’d disappear the moment he took his eyes off you, slipping from his grasp just as you almost did.

But you didn’t. You’re here.

It was the same words you had whispered to him every night when he had curled up beside you, “I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, aren’t I?”

But you could disappear.

You could if he wasn’t there with you — if he wasn’t fast enough. Because he couldn’t be everywhere at once, not even the strongest could accomplish that. But he wanted to keep you safe all the same. Would it be selfish to lock you up? Hide you away somewhere others could never find you? Keep you hidden if only to keep you safe.

But you never would be safe, not while you were with him.

“Toru?” Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, eyes fluttering open to meet his as your fingers reach for his cheek, “is that blood?”

And he’s pinned your hands in a blink of an eye, quickly and quietly, “it’s not mine,” his gaze glows in the dark, catching the moonlight streaming in, and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Toru, what happened?” And he kisses along your cheekbones, your jaw, your nose, your chin, “Satoru—“

“I killed them,” his fingers trace the folds of the satin robe he had helped you into, brushing against the bandages that hid your wounds from his sight, but he could see them all the same, “the people who did this,”

Your brow furrows, “Toru, what do you mean the people who—“

“Why do you stay with me?” He leans down to find your lips in a bruising kiss, lips sliding against yours as his fingers undo the knot of your robe, letting the fabric fall away from your bare body.

“What—“ his lips part from yours, strings of spit connecting your mouths.

“Why do you stay with me when I’m a monster?” and your eyes soften.

“You’re not—“ and he’s cutting you off with another kiss, as your hands struggle under his grip, the other grazing down your side, finding the swell of your hip only to squeeze.

“I’m the perfect weapon,” he kisses down the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your soft flesh harshly, drawing a gasp from your lips, “I could have killed them all, because I know they all knew—“

“Knew what?”

“My clan elders — they wanted to have you die on a mission, they wanted to stage it, so they could have me marry who they wanted,” he pauses, drawing a finger down the valley of your breasts, “create a perfect heir,”

“Satoru—“

He kisses you again, swallowing your words along with your thoughts, parting only to speak, “so I killed them, I didn’t use my cursed technique, I wanted them to feel the pain they gave you, wanted them to feel a fraction of what you did,”

You can’t find a second to speak, his fingers now sliding up your bare leg, as he presses himself closer, erection against your inner thigh, “Toru, you didn’t have to put yourself through that—“

“I wanted to,” he parts your thighs easily, large palm spread against your inner thigh, fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “wanted to tear them to shreds for what they did to you — and what they wanted to do—”

“I’m okay, Satoru, I’m—” a bitter laugh leaves his throat, as his fingers find your bandages again.

“Do you call coming home half dead okay now by jujutsu sorcerer standards?” he shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair, “I told you after Suguru that I would fix this rotten jujutsu world,” he presses kisses up your thigh, “and their deaths did fix one thing — no sorcerer will touch you or our future children again, especially when they speak to the woman the clan wanted to marry off to when your body wasn’t even cold yet,”

“You left her,” and he nods, eyes unable to meet yours.

“I only killed the elders I gathered, anyone else was spared — they didn’t dig their own graves,” his hand loosens around your wrists and you reach for his cheek, cupping his cheek, despite the blood, “I don’t regret it, I’d kill anyone who hurts you, but I didn’t want you to see me like this,”

“Like what?”

“Like a monster,” and you click your tongue, his eyes flitting to yours.

“You’re my Satoru, not a monster, you did what you did to protect me, protect our family,” you murmur, “that’s just about the most Satoru thing you could do,”

“But—“

“And if you are deemed a monster anyway?” You lean up, fingers smearing the blood against your own cheek, “then I’ll just become a monster with you,”

He crashes into you with a kiss, cupping your cheeks, as his tongue slips into your mouth, “can you really be a monster, sweetheart?”

He drags his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your soft flesh along the hollow of your throat, “T-Toru—“ and his lips find the swell of your breasts, his tongue dragging over your pert nipple, while his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, “y’know I can be, I would be, for you,”

He peers up through half lidded eyelids, his thumb drags down your puffy bottom lip, “I can’t imagine someone so sweet like you as one,” he murmurs, as he pulls back, lips slick with spit, as he drags his fingers toying with the soaked fabric of your panties, “and I wouldn’t want to drag you down with me,”

Your fingers reach forward, propping yourself up on your other arm, “Drag me or not,” you cup his chin, “you’re stuck with me,”

“Can we make it a binding vow?” you roll your eyes, and his lips curl for the first time since he’s got here, “c’mon sweets, I have to get my reassurance somehow,”

You hold up the giant rock on your finger, the very diamond you had told Satoru was too much, “this wasn’t enough—” the last word is a bite back gasp, as he noses at the drenched crotch of your underwear, a deep inhale that has you squirming, “No, Toru—” but he’s pinned your thighs down, prying them open, as he gazes up at you.

“Uh-uh, princess, I don’t remember saying you could move, especially when you could reopen your wounds,” his nose bumps against your clothed clit, a wicked smile as he drags his tongue over the already wet fabric, “you still haven’t seen how much of a monster I can be.”

~~~

“Ngh, Toru, can’t, I can’t—” but you can — you know you can from the heat building in your sloppy cunt under already soaked through sheets, and he knows too well you can too, from the way your pussy flutters around his three fingers, knuckle deep as they piston in and out, while his mouth toys with your abused clit, “please—”

You lost track of how many times you had orgasmed — his fingers, his mouth, and sometimes both — he had pulled each one after the other, allowing small reprieves, only to bury himself back in. He had even had you ride his face at one point, and you were sure he’d suffocate under your drenched cunt, until he flipped you on your back again.

“Please what, sweets?” he slows his fingers, curling them a certain way that makes your lips fall open, “you’ll have to use your words,” he pulls back.

Chest heaving, chin glistening with your release, his tongue cleaned his lips off before he wiped the rest off, before pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. And soon enough, his fingers were sinking back into your messy pussy, splitting you open with his thick fingers.

“Didn’t you say you wanted this, sweetheart?” his words cut through the wet squelch of his digits fucking you open, “wanted to drag you down with you, wanted this—” and he sucks hard at your clit, tongue flicking over it, making your back arch, “wanted me to drag you down with me,” and he punctuates it with a thrust of his fingers, brushing against a spot that has you seeing spots, “gotta make good on your promise, and I have to erase all the pain they gave you,”

And you barely manage to latch onto the desperation in his voice, the way the facade flickers.

He fucks you ever so slightly deeper, and you cum hard, tearing through you as your body tenses, pleasure washing over you as it did every single other time, melding into the others, “Good girl,” he murmurs, as he works his fingers through your orgasm, the slick noises becoming white noise, until he finally pulls the digits from inside you.

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him licking his digits clean one by one of your cum, his lips curled in a soft smile as they meet your gaze, his hand sliding up your thigh gently as it quaked, the very same fingers he had used to murder the people that hurt you, were so gentle when it was you — he was always so gentle when it was you.

But never himself.

You reach up for him, palm cupping his cheek, while the other finds his bare shoulder — clothes long discarded, “I love you,” and the cracks spread, spider webbing from the epicenter, “you know that right?”

His words seem caught in the back of his throat, “Even now?”

“Especially now,” and he’s pressing you against the mattress again, your thighs folded against your chest, legs slung over his shoulders, “you saved me,”

His gaze softened, “you saved me first,” and again and again, he couldn’t count the number of times you did, by just existing, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh, “but if I’m too late next time?”

“You can’t be everywhere,” your fingers lace with his, “and I just need you,” and still in this situation, his ego can inflate at your praise — nosing at your thigh, a deep inhale, before dragging his tongue up the side of your leg, “only you.”

He drags his weeping erection over your soaked folds, leaking tip teasing your slit while he watched his pre mix with yours, “Think you need more than just me,” and when he lets the tip sink into you, your lips part with his name, just as your walls part for him, “want something else, wifey?”

“You’re the worst,” you look up at him, lips curling despite your pout, your fingers grasping at the sheets under you, as your cunt tries to swallow him whole, “Toru, how long are you going to tease me for?”

And he’s pulling out only to draw a groan from your lips, “If you’re such a monster, thought you could take it—“ and your hand reaches for him, tugging him close by his neck.

“I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me right now—“

He grins, “If you insist,”

Fuck.

He sinks into you all at once, all too fast and all too slow, balls deep as he bottoms out inside you, your walls fluttering only to pull him deeper, “fuck,” your head falls back as his tip brushes against your cervix, “too fucking big, I swear if you rip my stitches open—”

“You don’t think I cleared this before I decided to do this, baby?” He grunts, glancing down to see how your messy hole stretched open as he sunk into you, “can’t believe anyone thought I’d fuck anyone but you — you’re the only one for me, sweetheart,”

You couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicker to your pussy stuffed full with his huge dick, “You talking to me or my cunt—“ and he begins to fuck you, remark undercut by the moan that he pulled from your lips, “f-fucker—“

“That’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart?” the lewd sounds of skin slapping together filled the room, his soft grunts and your moans, “wanted me to fuck you open, yeah?” and he wanted this, needed this after this week — it had been too long since he felt you under him like this — real and alive, his name leaving your swollen, kiss bitten lips.

And you needed it just the same — needed his fingers to dig into the softness of your thighs, needed the way only he could fill every inch of you, needed the soft murmurs of how good you felt, how much he loved you.

“Fuck, Toru, so fast,” you whine, but how could slow down he when you felt so good — so wet and warm, you had joked he could cum just looking at you alone barely a fist around his dick, but it was true — and being inside you just made him unravel completely, all sense of himself lost and drowning in just you, “hngh, it’s so deep,” you babble, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“That’s right, sweetheart, gonna fuck you deep, gotta make sure you feel it don’t I?” he coos, and his hand snakes between your thighs, pressing his palm to the bulge in your stomach, making you gasp as your walls clench around him, drawing a grunt from his lips, “that’s it, good girl,”

You keen at his praise, the wet squelch of your cunt around his cock ringing in your ears, balls slapping against your pussy with a rhythm that echoes in your head, as your body arches into him, needing him deeper, harder, faster. He’s nearly rutting into you, his thrusts growing shallow as you clamp down on him, achingly close.

“Those old fucking geezers don’t know what they were talking about—“ he grunts, running his mouth all the same even as he sunk impossibly fucking deeper, “don’t know this is the only cunt I’d ever breed. The only one I’d ever breed. The only one I can. Know why?” And you only can whimper, as his fingers rub against your clit, “because this is the only one made for my cum,”

And his words push you over the edge, cumming hard and fast, head lolling back, as his tip bullies your womb, as he fucks you hard over and over through your orgasm, sending pleasure ripping up your spine. Satoru groans as he feels you spasm, soaking in him in your juices, as he watches a white ring of your cum form around the base of his dick, dripping onto the clean sheets with the evidence of your arousal.

He can’t hold back.

He rails into you, a moan of your name falling past your lips making you pull him close, shifting your legs around his back just so he can sink into you even a centimeter deeper—

“Fuck, g’nna cum,” he’s meeting your glazed over eyes, knowing “gonna fill you up, yeah? Get you nice and round with my baby,” he groans at the thought, the image of you carrying his kid, stomach swollen as you grow his child, “and they’ll know, all of them, that you’re the only one I’d cum in,” and he’s so close, dick twitching as your arms around his neck tug him close.

“Cum in me, Toru, give me our baby,” and that’s it, he’s spilling inside you, spurting his hot release inside, again and again, as he fucks it deeper, filling you up.

“That’s it, take every drop,” he’s relentless, until he finally eases from you, his release trickling out. A soft sigh parts your lips that grows into a sharp gasp as he’s already flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Toru—” you whine.

“Aw did you think we were done sweetheart?” a pillow cushions your still bandaged stomach, placed underneath to support you, a shudder down your body as he rubs his cock against you, as he leans down, hot words murmured against your ear with a grin, before he sinks back into you with one thrust, stuffing his spilling cum back inside, “One thing about monsters are that we also have monstrous stamina.”

~~~

It was early, but Satoru was already awake.

He always had trouble sleeping, but now? His eyes found your sleeping form beside him, under the covers and safe, just as he had left you that morning. He didn’t know if he’d ever sleep more than three hours now. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your cheek, but you needed sleep — one of three things you never could live without (food and himself being the other two). And you definitely needed it now, after he had kept you up — nearly all night.

You shifted in your sleep, revealing several blooming hickies and love bites he had littered your body with, lips curling at the sight, as he pulled the blanket back up around you.

He was selfish — he should have divorced you the moment he had gotten you back. Let you leave because it was the right thing to do — to let you live a life safe without him. But he couldn’t — because he couldn’t imagine waking another morning, spending another day without knowing where you were, how you were doing.

It was selfish. But you let him be — especially when it came to you.

And his phone vibrates on the nightstand, whirring again and again, as he picks it up with a sigh, Yaga’s name flashing on the display. He takes one last glance at you before slipping from bed, stepping into the living room.

“Sensei! To what—“ he hardly gets a word out before screams fill his ears. He rubs his chin, it was too early for this.

He makes out the words — Gojo clan, dead, scandal, murder (wasn’t sure if he meant if he was going to murder Gojo or he meant what happened to the elders).

“It was a clan dispute, there was no need to tell you,”

Satoru held the phone away from his ear, Yaga’s yelling told him everything he needed to know, “Yeah, yeah, I know, the higher ups know — or they probably do by now,” he almost chuckles at the thought, and how he would love to do the same to them — knuckles white as he grips his phone — love to make them feel the same pain the sorcerers cared nothing for felt, make them—

Arms curl around him from behind and he knows it’s you, his body relaxing into your touch with practiced ease, your face buried in his back. His fingers relax, finding yours, tracing over the back, as he lifts one hand to his lips.

—But it wasn’t the time for that.

“Fine, fine, no need to have a heart attack, old man — I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Yaga was still speaking until Satoru hung up, turning to face yoy, your eyes half closed as his fingers found your cheek, “what are you doing awake, sweets?”

His lips curl as you lean into his touch, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up,” you murmur, nose brushing against his fingers as your eyes flutter open and closed, “how am I supposed to sleep when my pretty husband isn’t next to me?”

“Just pretty?” and you snort, as his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you to his chest, your head right over his heart, a content sigh on your lips.

“Are you ever serious?”

“Always,” and you smile up at him, chin resting against him, “what is it? Do I got something on my face?”

“You think our baby will have your pretty face?” You hum, and his gaze softens at the thought, “I hope so,”

He grins, “You do huh? And here I thought my ego didn’t need more stroking,”

“It doesn’t, but my husband deserves every bit of praise he gets — because he doesn’t get enough,” you kiss him softly, nose bumping against his.

“You planning on showering me with your praise, sweetheart?” And your lips finds his again.

“Always,” and he’s leading you back towards the bedroom, “where are you—“ you squeal as he scoops you up into his arms and carries you back to bed, gently placing you down, a grin on his lips.

He drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “Do you think I’m gonna let you leave this bed without breeding you right?” He clicks his tongue, “I’m far from done with you, wifey,”

You’re so beautiful, hair spread on the pillow like a halo, “So we’re not leaving until I’m pregnant?” Your fingers brush against his cheek, “we might be here a while,”

Satoru wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He kisses you again, long and languid, “There’s nothing I want more than to stay in bed with you.”

✧ a/n: sorry i've been gone for a bit!! i got super busy with work and got hella writer's block and right when i was feeling ready to write-- i got sick. but i'm doing much better now!!

✧ taglist: @arrivedercis, @ssetsuka, @ch3rryistheg, @satorusmochis, @sunarins-bae, @blindbabycadder , @yihona-san06 , @dantaku , @archieballs , @ceruleansol , @mqcht , @xxemmarldxx , @chiyokoemilia , @theshylittleelfgirl , @rroseselavyyy , @out4thenight , @jatyes , @unreliablefangs , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @celestialseasart , @minsified , @akemfs , @ranatherealestsigma , @zherryxtar , @virtualangelllllll , @itsmebien , @difluenza , @rougebrainsludge , @mochigod , @euphorism , @vii-is-free , @elliesndg , @beneaththelamina , @monarch-of-anime-simping , @hhimetsu , @simply-a-s1mp , @jennieclips , @svt-backup , @angelbunsx , @duhhitsmiranda , @satowooo , @fushitoru , @lesaurita , @briluvslee , @gojo-gets-me-wetter , @catsgomurp , @pinkyvomit , @hyori2 , @wakashudou , @celestialgojo , @sxnkuna, @nakariabnrb, @dazailover1900, @hanlay, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @kxouri, @forest-fruits-jam, @spider-fan72, @strawmariee

[radiance1]

Danny has been reincarnated.

Which was an odd thing to realize, it wasn't even a slow one he just... snapped into it one day. One moment he was staring at a wall out of boredom the next, well, he was staring for an entirely different reason.

It was a task for his now young -he thinks around three years old?- mind to work its way through the memories, but it wasn't like he had much else to do honestly. So, what does he know?

His name is Danny, like, his actual name and not just a moniker. He was once a halfa and he already knows he's going to be missing invisibility and intangibility. He, well, died. For like, a second time which actually makes sense because reincarnation-

Anyways.

He was a clone of two people from this thing called the Justice League which, weird name but probably some government or activist group. Wonder Woman and Superman. Which were pretty weird names to name your kids but eh.

He doesn't really remember much besides that from this life, or the one from before but he's an adult! He'll figure things out once he gets out of this containment tube thing.

Did he mention he was in a test tube? He's a tube baby now. He thinks? Or maybe it's more like he's being contained.

Whatever.

So he breaks out. Thank you apparent superstrength that he has no idea why he has but he's not going to complain! He then wandered around all of the other test tubes, able to remember just enough of English to see that yea, they're dead.

He probably was too, before he had memories zapped into him. Or a vegetable.

He then finds this really big container, checks it out, then opens it because the clone inside isn't dead!

'Project Match' it said. He'll just call him Match.

Was he thanked for helping him? Nope. You would think that he would be thanked or at least somewhat respected for saving this guy but nope!

He was, quite literally, held up by his leg and dangled in the air. Who dangles a three-year-old?! Well, he was technically and adult but still! The next few things were a blur but after pulling off the old Fenton charm he found him and Match outside as he tried to stop him from attacking random people.

Luckily the charms and privilege of the youngest (he's assuming he's the youngest, because he's physically three) was more than enough to get through to him. Sure, the guy couldn't form words, really aggressive for literally no reason, really weird but also absolutely cool looking eyes. But he worked around the first issue by developing their own personal language from like grunts and stuff, the second he once again used his youngest privilege to boss him around and the third a pair of sunglasses easily fixed.

He just had to steer Match clear of those random S crest mark thingies. Which was a weird thing to hate but hey, he's not there to judge.

[charliemwrites]

Guilty By Association Commission from the very sweet and patient @soleilak

You (Callsign: Giggles, Gigs for short) are a medic on temporary assignment with the 141. The only problem? You're a former member of Graves' Shadow Company.

Content: Injury, angst, power imbalance, fingering and oral (reader receiving)

“Get your arse in gear, Gigs!”

Already exhausted and aching, the rough bark of your temporary captain urges your heavy feet faster. Gunfire sprays all around – you’re so addled you can’t tell if it’s enemy or friendly. All you know are your orders, a cry of survival in the uneven pounding of your heart. A bullet plows into the ground dangerously close to your foot.

Just a few meters ahead, Gaz curses and tumbles to the ground, hat lost. It’s not even a decision to alter your course. You can’t tell instantly what the damage is; if he’s been hit or just tripped. So you tuck and dive, grabbing an arm and leg as your back rolls across his chest. The momentum gets the two of you up and moving again, adrenaline taking the edge off his weight.

“Get us to the trees and I can run again!” he shouts in your ear.

You settle your blurry vision on the forest line ahead. Blessed cover – and your extraction point just a mile further. Goal set, you push through the pain of bruised ribs, a wrenched arm, and the ricochet of a bullet across your thigh. You wheeze your way well past the tree line, weaving between trunks until Kyle’s palm smacks at your side.

“We’re good, we’re good,” he says.

You grunt as you set him down, give him the quickest onceover in the history of medics. His calf is bleeding, just above the tops of his boots. It’s an ugly wound; it’ll need packing – but he can survive until exfil.

“Where the fuck are you two?!” Price growls through your headset.

Kyle pats your shoulder and takes off again, only the slightest limp indicating his injury. You grit your teeth and try to follow his example.

No one helps you into the chopper when you’re the last on the ladder. You’re not surprised, but it still stings. Salt on the day’s wounds.

Once the heli is up in the air, you scoot over to help Kyle with the wound on his calf. It’s almost hypnotic, the press-wind-press-wind of packing the deep gouge. Almost like unspooling your own tension through the care of a teammate. Every inch of bandage seems to amplify your own pains, though, as the mission high ebbs.

You hurt.

When Kyle’s done, you sit back a bit to assess him for any other wounds. The twitch of his mouth and slight bob of his head tells you he’s sorted, though – and it’s more thanks than you usually get.

“Where the hell were you?” Price demands.

“I got held up, sir,” you admit. Had been ambushed by two men you thought were on another floor. Bad luck, that. Or just poor preparation on your part. Your side twinges as you ease yourself into a seat. “Won’t happen again.”

Price grunts, mollified. “See that it doesn’t.”

You get maybe thirty seconds of peace before Soap’s voice cuts through the tentative peace.

“Gonnae take care o’ that or keep bleedin’ all over Nik’s seat?” he teases. Or at least it would be, if not for the sharp glint in his eyes.

What’s that saying about sins of the father? Well, Phillip Graves was definitely not your father, nor was General Shepherd – though he was old enough to be. In their absence, it seems you’re paying for their crimes regardless.

“Right,” you sigh, tearing off the bottom of your shirt, “sorry, Nik.”

“Just stay alive to clean it up, eh?” he replies jovially.

It’s not much of a joke, but you laugh anyway. You don’t live up to your callsign much nowadays, so you’ll take the levity when you can.

You tie off the makeshift bandage with a grunt and lean your head back, too uncomfortable to doze off.

At least the infirmary is a friendly sight. The staff are always grateful for an extra set of hands – even if they once belonged to a Shadow. And you have a lot of time to help since you’re not encouraged (never mind invited) to any non-professional activities with the 141. Working with the nurses during all that extra time has gained you some friends at least.

Dana is on call when you limp in. She fusses about you looking like the walking dead – then goes on to tell regale you with details from her current first-time watch of the show. The stream of words soothes you in the quiet little treatment room.

“Think we need an x-ray, dove?” she asks, prodding at your already discolored ribs.

“Wouldn’t help,” you sigh, “we can just wrap ‘em and call it.”

“Alright, dear, but you know what to do if it gets worse.”

“’Course,” you answer, summoning a grin, “can’t be keelin’ over before your nephew leaves that tart.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started – you know what she said at Sunday dinner?”

You giggle through her undoubtedly embellished story until she gets to your thigh – and the terrible bandaging.

“A piece of your shirt,” she scolds.

“My bag was too far, and my ribs hurt,” you complain.

“And what are all those big burly men for then, eh?” she huffs.

You shake your head. “I can’t ask them to help.”

Dana scowls past your hip. “Just because you’re the medic—”

“Pardon.”

You jolt in surprise at Captain Price in the doorway. Christ, he takes up the breadth of it too, shoulders brushing the jamb on either side. Even mission-dirty and stern-looking, he’s a hell of a welcome sight – though an unexpected one.

You try to sit up at some semblance of attention, but he waves you off. Can’t say you’re not grateful, unable to help wincing as you lie back.

You don’t notice him pause as Dana washes the wound, too busy sucking air through your nose.

“What’s… the damage?” he asks carefully.

You open your mouth to answer, but Dana beats you to it.

“Contused ribs, sprained shoulder, and a bullet wound to the thigh,” she rattles off. You’re always impressed by the undercurrent of disapproval and accusation she manages to weave into each word. “Not to mention dehydration and sleep deprivation. You’ve been staying up again, haven’t you?”

You clear your throat and turn your eyes skywards. “Oh, look at the ceiling. What a lovely ceiling.”

She clicks her tongue and begins packing the wound as you had for Gaz.

“Bullet wound?” Price asks sharply. Your eyes flick guiltily to him. “Why the hell am I hearing about this now?”

“It’s just a graze, sir,” you reply. “Sergeant Garrick’s was worse.”

His jaw does that thing you secretly (ashamedly) drool over, where it tightens and jumps. You know it’s not good but hey, silver linings right?

He doesn’t ream you out though. Just crosses his burly arms and lets out a long, heavy breath. You’re… not really sure what that means.

“Debrief at 0700 tomorrow, Gigs,” he says, voice unusually subdued.

“Yessir,” you reply dutifully.

As always, a strange mix of relief and disappointment twists in your chest as he walks away. Talking to him is a bit like being under a microscope – if that microscope was ready to brand you a low-down, no-good, dirty, rotten traitor at the first hint of suspicious activity.

You get it, you do. Graves and Shadow Company tried to kill Soap and Ghost, Los Vaqueros, and committed unspeakable atrocities. As much history as you had with him, he deserved what came to him, and Shepherd will deserve the same when he’s found.

Not that your hands were clean before Las Almas, but you drew the line when the orders came. Couldn’t bear to detain or shoot the friends you’d made in Los Vaqueros, or join the hunting party for Soap and Ghost. You’d been labelled a turncoat by your own teammates, thrown into a cell to be “court-martialed.”

Kate Laswell coming to your rescue was a second chance, a small-time miracle that you’ve been determined to earn ever since. In your more pathetic moments, usually in the small, dark, lonely hours of sleepless nights, you wonder how much it will take. How long you’ll be guilty by association.

At least this isn’t shaping up to be one of those nights. You’re half asleep by the time Dana sends you off, arm chilly from the IV fluids she bullied you into. For once, you might get a few decent hours.

Your second surprise of the night comes just outside your barracks door. Soap is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, head back and eyes closed. Awake, though. His index finger is tapping a steady but rapid pace on his bicep.

“Soap?” you say, alerting him. “Did you… need me for something? You’re not injured, are you?”

He straightens up, drops his arms to his side. You pause a noticeable distance away, uncertainty leashing you to the safety of space. Not that you feel threatened. His posture is the loosest it’s been around you since… well, since before Las Almas went to hell.

“’Course no’, I woulda – tha’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh…” You process the strange wording. “Why are you here, then?”

He shifts his weight, a little line appearing between his brows as he seems to gather himself.

“I’m here to apologize.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Look, what I said during exfil – it was bang outta order. You’ve been nothin’ but good to us ‘n I’m still holdin’ on to old shite.”

You shift, adjust the stupid flimsy sling for your sore shoulder. “It’s… not that old,” you reason, “and I don’t blame you, either. Not after everything.”

“Still, ya did the right thing back then – and ya’ve proven yourself half a dozen times over, besides. I’ve got no reason to treat you like an enemy.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. It feels like you’ve swallowed a grenade; any moment the pin is going to come out and an explosion of gory emotion will splatter the walls.

“Thanks, Soap.”

He grunts something about “not thanking him” and ducks his head, shuffling past you.

“Seriously,” you say, voice strained from keeping it even. “I really appreciate it.”

He pauses, gives you a genuinely kind look. “Rest up, lass.”

It’s the best you’ve slept in a long while – after you cry into your pillow, that is.

At 0700 the next day, you’re in Price’s office, sore but in high spirits. Gaz sat next to you and Soap said good morning at breakfast. Even Ghost seemed less frosty than usual, grunting at you in acknowledgement when you’d sat down.

Of course, the good luck couldn’t last.

The debrief itself is fine. You speak when it’s your turn, listen when it isn’t. About as normal as it gets for a special ops squad.

It’s as the rest of the task force is filing out the door that the other shoe drops.

“Gigs, a word,” Price calls.

You freeze mid-step, shoot Gaz a panicky glance. He glances over your shoulder, snorts, and pats your arm in solidarity. Not as helpful as he thinks.

With a deep breath, you pivot back around. The door closes behind you with a damning click. You can’t even hide your hands behind your back to fidget at parade rest – your arm needs to stay in the sling for the rest of the day.

“We need to discuss yesterday,” Price says, palms flat on his desk.

You tilt your head. Wasn’t that what the debrief was for?

“Sir?” you ask. “If I – did I do something wrong?”

He deflates a bit, big shoulders dropping before he pushes himself up and rounds the desk.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” he explains, “but I have concerns.”

When he gestures for you to take one of the visitor seats, you do. You’re a bit surprised when he takes the other – though you can’t help an appreciative glance while his attention is elsewhere. He practically dwarfs the stupid little chair, and the way he spreads his thighs trying to get comfortable…

“Concerns, sir?” you parrot, trying to corral your scrambled braincells.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he begins, expression solemn, “is that really how you feel?”

“What I said…?” You try to recall anything of note from last night, but most of what came out of your mouth is a blur at best. “What did I say?”

He leans forward, lacing his scarred fingers together. You try not to stare, though the way he rubs at the knuckle of one thumb with the other is distracting. It’s an unusual gesture for the disciplined, determined man you’ve been honored to call captain for months now.

“That you can’t ask us to help you.”

A block of ice drops into your stomach.

“That’s not – I know you guys would help me if I needed it,” you hurry to say.

He gives you a long look. “Then why don’t you ever ask? You were shot and didn’t say a bloody thing.”

You shift, unable to meet his eyes. Can’t find the words to answer. It’s not that you didn’t think you could ask. It just didn’t feel right with the bad blood between you, Soap, and Ghost. Besides, you’re the medic, you’re supposed to be the one fixing everyone else – not the other way around. What use are you otherwise?

You try to explain this to Price, but you sense (from the grim set to his handsome features) that it’s not helping.

“I’ve been a shite captain to you, haven’t I?” he sighs.

You jump. “No, sir! You’re a great captain. I trust you with my life.”

He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor. Sounds almost self-deprecating.

“I’ve not done a bloody thing to earn it.”

You shake your head. “Sir, you’ve kept me alive for months now. That’s plenty.”

Beyond that, he’s always been fair with you. Doesn’t give you shit assignments or the most dangerous roles in missions. Always makes sure you’re alive and accounted for. Calls you out for mistakes and faults, sure, but it’s for the sake of you and everyone else. He’s been just as ready to pat your shoulder for a clever maneuver or praise a good shot.

“You know damn well it’s not,” he scolds.

You huff, almost amused. “Sir, with all due respect, get off the cross we need the wood.”

His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of being so cavalier with Price of all people. Soap’s truce last night gives you the confidence to continue.

“I know you didn’t trust me as a former Shadow at first,” you say, “but you looked out for me anyway. After the first few missions… it seemed like things evened out.”

He sighs and sits back, running a hand down his face.

“Laswell vouched for you – it’s the only reason I didn’t send you right back on that plane,” he admits. A small but genuine smile curls his mouth. “And then you put your life on the line for my boys time and time again.”

You mirror him, the tension in your shoulders easing away with each word.

“I knew things weren’t great with the others, but I thought it was best if I kept out of it. Let you lot sort it out so long as you all cooperated when it mattered,” he continues. “I didn’t realize how bad it got, and that’s on me. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and lightly tap your boot against his. “It wasn’t the wrong call, sir. I think things are going to get better from here on out.”

He hums, eyes searching your gentle smile for any hint of insincerity. But you believe it, and it must show, because his eyes crinkle as he smiles back.

“Speaking of better,” he says, clearing his throat. “Mind if I take a look at those ribs? Dana had some choice words for me this morning.”

You giggle and tug your shirt from your waistband, hiking the hem up high to show the reddish-purple mottling all over your left side. Price makes a noise of sympathy, easing out of his chair to the carpeted floor. On his knees, he inches closer, leaning in to inspect the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asks, voice lowering.

His fingertips skim over the edges of the bruises, featherlight. Your voice gets strangled in your throat as tingles race across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Um, hostile kicked me. A lot.”

His eyes flick up to yours, hard as ice. “Dead?”

“Yessir.”

His gaze softens, a proud, smug quirk to his lips. “Atta girl.”

You can’t fully suppress a shiver. It’s not just the gentle, considerate touches. It’s the purring praise from a man you’ve admired and harbored a sizeable crush on.

“Cold?” he asks.

This is your chance to wave it off. To pretend you are not so inappropriately infatuated with a man you thought only tolerated you until a minute ago. A little white lie, you could smooth your shirt back down, and be on your way.

But you don’t want to do that. Not really.

And from the way his pupils are slowly, steadily subsuming his irises, neither does he.

“No, sir,” you whisper.

His slow exhale caresses across your tender ribs.

“Then would you be comfortable if I checked on your ‘little graze’ as well?” It’s a tease, but also a genuine check of your boundaries. Another out, freely and openly given, that only solidifies your resolve to see where he’s going with this.

“Yessir,” you answer, shifting to get at your belt.

Price tsks, though, big hands spreading across each thigh and urging you down again.

“Now, now, don’t aggravate that shoulder,” he murmurs. “Let me help like a good captain.”

You swallow back an embarrassing noise as deft hands unbuckle your belt, thumb the button of your pants open, and drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. His thick, warm forearms rest on your thighs the entire time, keep them spread to accommodate his wide shoulders. He’s in no rush to continue his “checkup,” toying along the length of your waistband before easing it down.

“Lift up for me, darling, there we are,” he murmurs. You gasp softly as his palms brush your ass while sliding your pants down. Then outright squeak as he squeezes a cheek in each hand, a low noise of admiration rumbling in his throat.

“Gorgeous girl,” he chuckles. “Gorgeous arse.”

Your face feels hot as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, though the square of gauze and tape on the back of your thigh is long revealed. It takes conscious effort not to squirm under his hot gaze, praying a wet spot isn’t already visible on your panties.

“Let’s just get this one free…” He works the pantleg over your boot, leaving the other pooled around the laces. “Now then.”

You bite into your lip as he hauls your calf up into his shoulder, propping your leg up to get a clear view of your thigh.

“Not bled through,” he notes, tracing the neat edges of the medical tape. “You’ve been taking good care of it. Well done.”

You can’t help the little twitch that evokes, your whole body reacting to the deep timbre of his voice. He’s not oblivious to his effect on you, a glint in his eye as his bristly jaw brushes the inside of your knee.

“T-told you, it wasn’t too bad,” you manage weakly.

He hums and your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing. His eyes flick down and you know it’s all over.

“And what about this, hm?” he asks. You whimper as his thumb skims the lace edge of your panties. “Have you been taking care of this?”

Flustered and yet so, so turned on, you can only shake your head. He coos in mock disappointment, rubbing slow circles across your labia, closer and closer to where you’re aching and needy.

“It’s alright sergeant,” he soothes, “your captain will take care of you.”

Except he only rubs you through your panties A maddening pressure back and forth along the wet seam of your cunt, never delving deeper. You break down in hardly any time at all.

“Sir, please,” you whine, wriggling. He’s quick to brace you still again, leisurely movements never faltering.

“Please what, darling?” he teases.

“I-I need…” You whimper with embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need you to take care of me, please, captain.”

He practically growls as he tears through the hip of your panties, tossing them aside in a sodden heap on the ground. With two fingers, he parts your labia, eyes hungrily drinking in the cream shimmering between them.

“All this and I’ve barely touched you,” he rasps, awed.

You nearly sob with desperation for something, anything. He shushes your fussy little noises with his thumb, dipping into the pool of slick at your entrance. Gets the pad soaked before drawing a line up to your swollen, sensitive clit. Your mouth falls open as he starts drawing tight, firm circles over that bundle of nerves.

He treats your body and your pleasure with all the confidence and competence you’ve come to expect of John Price. It takes shockingly little time for him to learn just how to press, how fast to rub, the patterns and circuits that get your legs shaking. And that’s before he twists his wrist and sinks a finger inside you.

“Practically sucking me in, love,” he murmurs, petting at your walls. You shudder and wordlessly beg for more, rocking your hips. “Need another already, greedy girl?”

He doesn’t even wait for your nod before stuffing you with another, curling and scissoring, exploring. You keen as he finds a sweet, sensitive spot inside you and begins toying with it, his thumb still swiping relentlessly at your clit.

He settles into a rhythm that has you moaning and keening, the heel of your boot digging into his shoulder blade. All the while he showers you in praise and encouragement, the dirtiest compliments that make you clench down tightly on his hand. Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up with pleasure.

It’s builds and builds and builds, never quite cresting. You’re near tears when you moan his name, trying to find some leverage or angle to finally tip you over the edge.

“Do you need to cum, doll?”

“Yes, yes,” you cry, “please, sir, I wanna cum for you. Please, I’m s-so close.”

He hums, bracing your thigh with his free hand as he leans in. Your foggy brain doesn’t have enough time to process before he latches onto your clit and a third finger bullies into you. You wail. Your thigh twinges from the dull pressure of his shoulder, but the slight pain only adds a delicious edge to the pleasure.

His tongue swipes across your puffy clit once, twice, three times and you’re gone. You gush all over his hand, his beard, onto the chair. Your hips jerk as he works you over, fingers abusing your g-spot relentlessly despite how tightly you clamp down. Your body feels nuclear, nerves popping like firecrackers.

He only relents when the waves of ecstasy threaten to drown you in overstimulation. He eases his fingers from your twitchy hole, making room for him to lick you clean. It’s loud and obscene, yet there’s no room left for embarrassment anymore. You shiver and pant in the aftermath, your body unravelling into a puddle.

“Wh-what about you?” you ask as he begins straightening out your clothes. There’s an absolutely delectable-looking bulge in his fatigues that you’re dying to get your tongue on.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you want more –” (“I do.”) “- then you’ll have to wait until you’re healed up. Non-negotiable.”

You try to pout, but the effort is thwarted when he chucks you gently under the chin.

“C’mon, let’s have a lie down.”

He steadies you as you wobble to the couch off to the side, lying down first and letting you cuddle up between his legs. It’s a comfort more than you would have expected from a clandestine little triste, but you should know better than to doubt your captain. Head resting on his chest, you let yourself drift for a while, lulled by his fingers carding through your hair.

“Price…?” you ask after a while.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t do this just to… I dunno, make up for something, right?”

He huffs. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been arse over teakettle for a while. Staring like a complete muppet when you train.”

You hide a grin against his collarbone. “Good. I thought I’d have to start making things up for you to owe me.”

His chuckle rocks through you, and for the first time in a while, it feels a bit like home.

[jedi-starbird]

A happier galaxy where the disaster lineage is somewhat less on fire constantly and senior padawan Obi-wan has developed a fixation on Mandalorians:

Sometimes Feemor regretted just how much he had given away when he had spent 5 expensive months bribing a traumatised Obi-wan to call him brother when he was 14. His dignity, for one, his access codes and shadow cloaking techniques, another. So he had a very dignified reaction when he was awoken to the shine of his younger brother's eyes in the dark at the foot of his bed. "I wou-stop screaming it's just me-I would like a Mandalorian. How do I procure one?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

Obi-wan scowled as if Feemor was being difficult, he wasn't, he wasn't quite awake enough for that yet. "You're a shadow, you're supposed to know things."

Ah, if being a shadow granted you the secrets of the universe instead of just a great many planetary governments, Feemor wouldn't spend so much time wondering what dark rituals Dooku had committed to result in Qui-gon Jinn. (He already knew what regular rituals Qui-gon had committed to result in Obi-wan)

"I know that I'm about to punt you out of my room right now."

"...My birthday is coming up, I believe I deserve compensation for all the traumas."

Obi-wan's eyes were very big now. Feemor sighed. He flopped back down into bed. He resisted the urge to pull his blankets back up and roll over. 'Oh sure when it's time to see mind healers everything's fine but now-'

"Shouldn't you be asking Master then?"

"Master would not approve of how I plan to use the Mandalorian."

He squinted at Obi-wan for a long moment. Obi-wan stared back. He did some quick mental maths and tried not to feel old. Eh. Fine. Feemor swung his legs out of bed. "You had me at 'Master wouldn't approve'."

"Do you think I could get one by walking into little Keldabe and asking very nicely?"

As it turns out, yes he could. A few too many in fact, apparently Jedi, their ancestral enemy, in the Mando district attracted attention, who knew? Feemor knew, Feemor would have known if only he had been properly awake when this semblence of a plan was proposed. He stalked through the cantina towards Obi-wan who was leaning slightly forwards against a pillar, ah...speaking, to a Mandalorian with painted orange armour while surrounded by a larger crowd of Mandos. At least they seem mostly amused. He ignored the youngers squawk as he yanked the back of his robes so that he moved away from the Mandalorian and spun him around.

"You cannot solve centuries of animosity by batting your eyelashes."

"I'm not batting my eyelashes " Obi-wan sniffed," I'm shaking my ass, there's decidedly more effort involved."

"I miss when I was an only child." Feemor sighed deeply. He used the force to scruff the neck of Obi-wan's robes and dangle him slightly in the air. He ignored the shouting from beside him and bowed politely to the staring Mandos. "My apologies for the disturbance, this will not happ-" He considered his brother who was now yelling out his personal comm code with a wink. " Please excuse us, this very probably will happen again, we shall workshop it. May the force be with you all."

I don't have a fully planned AU but it is Codywan!!! cause I love those bitches but have some more dialogue I came up with for this AU. I'm imagining them both as like 20-23, Obi's close to knighthood. He's still a padawan for this because I think him causing Qui-gon headaches is funny. Feemor fully thinks this complicated courtship dance Obi's created is funny, he likes studying his little brother like a bug, he just wasn't prepared for him to just waltz into little kelbade and start hitting on people, though he really should have been.

Hand wavy timeline with Jaster alive but the clones are still clones, Jango was kidnapped and held in stasis or something, Jaster claimed them as Mandos. This is really just about Obi's first and biggest diplomatic achivement being friendly Jedi-Mando relations purely cause he was in his thot era. This also somehow saves the galaxy from the sith.

I like to imagine that Cody's brothers recorded that little exchange between Fee and Obi on their helmets and uploaded it online where it went viral on MandoNet before going viral galaxywide because wait holy shit is that a Jedi saying that????. Qui-gon gets called in for a very weird meeting where the council's like ok so the entire holonet has seen your padawan being horny on main but also this is like the biggest jump in our diplomatic relationship with the Mandos in centuries so like can we keep this up somehow? This results in Obi-wan being holonet famous, first through vode recordings but then he starts a space tumblr and twitter account and he's famous now. Then his friends and other jedi start accounts because wait we're allowed to do that? and those become big as well and this is literally the best PR the jedi have had in hundreds of years. the holonet loves them. the sith are fuming.

Obi-wan, scoffing: What were they gonna do? Shoot me? Feemor: Yes. Obi-wan: I don't believe in blasters. Bly: ...like as a concept...? Obi-wan: No, spiritually.

Obi-wan: I'm sure there's a nice Mandalorian we can find for you Feemor: I'm not sure those 2 words belong together Obi-wan: No of course not, we can't find a nice one, then they'd be all alone, we need to find an absolute bastard of one so that you two match :)

Obi-wan: Oh so Master gets to take in pathetic life forms but I don't? This one's already domesticated! Wolffe: Debatable. Feemor: Cody's a person! Not a stray tooka! Obi-wan: Master takes in stray people all the time! That's how he got me!

Qui-gon: How do you explain this behaviour Padawan ? Obi-wan: The force pushed me towards the Mandalorians Master, it was quite insistent on me developing better relations with them given our difficult history. Feemor: Fascinating, please do elaborate, I'd love to hear the theological implications of a force-assigned kink.

[cultven]

can i get a Deadpool x reader x wolverine where reader is making them watch asmr with them at bedtime :3

🍒

ASMR Cuddles

Deadpool X Reader X Wolverine

Content: Some cursing, Wade being a yapper as always, Grumpy Logan, Fluff, Cuddles, Slime!!, Small Blind Al content

Word Count: 827

Warnings: None

a/n: This request was just too funny not to write, just thinking about these two men and their different reactions. Wrote this super fast on a whim so hopefully it's ok! Short and sweet :)

“Hurry!” You whined, getting all cozy. This has become a daily routine with the three of you, you get comfy in bed while the other two men stall sleeping. Little did other people know, Wade and Logan were huge insomniacs. Perhaps it came with the profession of being a superhero, you didn’t know, but you were determined to help soothe their minds into sleep. The first tactic that came to your mind? Asmr. 

You had the perfect setup. Bunches of pillows to support your heads and backs into a half-sitting position, mountains of blankets to keep you all warm and comfortable, and finally your laptop at full charge ready to go. Now all you needed was your eccentric and grumpy boys. “Wade hurry up!” You groaned as Logan stepped into the room, finally in his sleeping clothes. 

“Hold on baby girl, I’m doing my skincare routine!” Wade yelled from the other side of the apartment. 

“Why? It’s obviously not doing anything for you.” Logan retorted with a smile as you playfully hit his arm. He just grinned wider at your scolding as you heard one more knock on the walls. 

“Keep it down, fuckers! Some people in this place like to sleep!” Blind Al shouted from her room, which was only a few thin walls away. 

“Sorry, Al!” You apologized, sending Logan a look to shut it. He only rolled his eyes as he crawled into bed next to you, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. As he got himself comfortable, Wade burst through the door with a smile, two shirts in hand. 

“Ok, be honest. Which shirt is more ASMR-y? Pink with rainbows,” He held up a hot pink t-shirt to his chest. “Or, yellow with the X-men logo?” Wade’s arm lifted the other shirt, which was just some old X-men merch he stole from Colossus not too long ago. 

“Asshole it doesn’t matter, let's go.” Logan groaned, blankly looking at the two options. 

“I like the pink Wade.” You said with a smile, watching him put the shirt on and patting the seat next to you. Finally, the three of you get comfortable, Wade on your left and Logan on the right. With the way you three were situated, it almost felt like a puzzle. 

“So, what do you want us to watch exactly?” Logan questions, eyeing the videos you’re scrolling past. 

“It’s videos that make funny noises! They’re supposed to relax you and help you sleep. It even makes some people tingle.” You respond, smiling a bit at the man before resuming your search for the perfect video. 

“What kind of tingles exactly?” Wade smirked at your side. Before he could wait for an answer he hastily pointed at a video on your laptop. “Oh! Let’s do that one! Slime.” Sure enough, that was the video you put on. Within the first two minutes, Wade was completely enthralled, commenting on every little thing. 

“What kind of slime is that?”

“Fluffy, dear.”

“How does it sound so delicious?”

“Beads!”

“Where can I find the things to buy this?”

While Wade was now distracted on Amazon buying the various ingredients for slime, Logan was not so impressed. You could tell the only reason he was currently staying in bed was for the free cuddles. The slime clearly was not of his taste. 

“Logan, do you want to try a different video?” You offered, determined to make the man sleepy through ASMR at any cost. Slime probably wasn’t the best fit for sleep time, not only because of Logan’s disinterest but it only seemed to rile up Wade more as he was currently talking your ear off about all the things he bought for his upcoming slime creations. 

“Eh, no offense bub, but I don’t think any of these videos are gonna do it for me.” You felt bad, you needed to find something that would soothe Logan, and you knew just the genre. 

“How about some general tapping ASMR?” You hastily typed the words into YouTube, much to Wade’s dismay. You found the perfect video, turning up the volume ever so slightly and allowing the ASMR to do its thing. Five minutes into the video you felt sleepy yourself, before realizing that the last few minutes have been in complete silence, which was strange when you lived with Wade Wilson. Turning to both your sides you see Wade completely asleep and Logan fighting for his consciousness. 

“This one good, bub’?” You whisper to Logan, teasing him slightly. 

With your words knocking him out of his trance, all Logan could think to say was, “Shut up.” Before returning to the video, his arm still wrapped around you. Within ten minutes the three of you were out cold, a mess of limbs all sewn together with soft tapping in the background. For the first time in years, Wade and Logan were able to get a good night's sleep and all it required was some cuddles and ASMR. 

[trulybetty]

warm bread & honey

pairing: jackson!joel x reader word count: 3,325 warnings: a little sprinkling of angst if you squint hard enough, briefest mentions of past injuries, no descriptions of reader, use of a nickname, no y/n, just soft and cozy post tlou season one joel deserves estimated reading time: 17 minutes summary: joel returns home to you from patrol ao3: linked

a/n: it's been a while, eh? had to take an unplanned hiatus but trying to figure out how to jump back in - figured a good place to start was by clearing out my wip's. this had been semi-finished for a while, but I wasn't sure it'd fit, then I figured I should just post it - a reminder of writing for yourself first, right?

“The teapot is hot!” You warned when you heard the familiar drag of one of the kitchen chairs being pulled out against the worn wooden floor. The ceramic pot, not long filled with hot water and tea, was made in anticipation of the completion of your morning's baking you had started in the early hours, unable to sleep for tossing and turning.

You had both hands gloved and inside the oven pulling out a loaf of bread, but your forewarning hadn’t been enough to prevent the hissed curse that sounded from behind you. 

Carefully placing the fresh loaf atop the stove, its smell filled the kitchen and enveloped you in a comforting embrace, though it could be easily argued that feeling had more to do with the house's new arrival than anything else. 

“I told you it was hot,” you admonished as you pulled off the oven gloves turning around to find a sheepish Joel sitting at the kitchen table, you gave him a warm smile, “Hi.”

Joel, his jacket already shrugged off and in the process of rolling up his sleeves gave you an equally comforting smile, one that said he was pleased to see you after days apart, “Hi,” he replied. 

Throwing the gloves to the counter you took the three wide steps to close the distance between the two of you. Just the knowledge of him being home, seeing him in one piece, was enough to release the tension that sunk into your bones every time he went on patrol or for anything that required leaving the safety of Jackson’s confines.

As you took that final step, watching him turn in his seat to throw his jacket over the back of the chair beside him, the early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen and highlighting the subtle signs of weariness on his face. Despite the tired weathered lines and the shadows beneath his eyes, his smile when he looked back up at you was genuine, a silent testament to the comfort he found in simply being back home, back with you.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” you observed, your voice a gentle blend of concern and welcome. 

Joel shrugged, a low chuckle escaping him as he subconsciously ran his fingers down to his side, the subtle movement betraying the discomfort he tried to dismiss, “It’s nothin’ darlin’. Just the cold reminding me I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said, attempting to downplay the lingering pain from the old jagged scar at his side.

His attempt to brush off his discomfort didn't fool you; you knew him too well to deny the nuance of his movements as something else, his attempts to hide the silent hiss under his breath. You reached out, your fingers tracing the air just shy of the old wound, a silent acknowledgment of the battles he'd weathered, both external and internal. 

Joel's gaze held yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he masked it with a lopsided smile. 

The morning light, now brighter, spilled into the kitchen, casting long shadows and highlighting the fine dust particles dancing in the air. It was serene, a quiet moment shared between the two of you. Your hip propped against the heavy farmhouse table your hand reached out instinctively to touch his arm, feeling the cold that he’d carried in through the front door seeping from his skin through his now rolled-up sleeves.

“How about,” your fingers toyed with the buttons that did up the front of his shirt, “you let me run you a warm shower,” you suggested, knowing all too well he wouldn’t admit to the true discomfort of the aches the cold weather brought to his old wounds.

Joel’s eyes, a mix of fatigue and the warmth of finally being home met yours. For a moment he seemed to weigh the offer, the stubborn part of him that disliked admitting any form of weakness at war with his need to sink into you. Finally, his resolve melted away, a soft smile escaping him as he gave into the warmth of your proposition.

A smirk appeared on his lips, “Only if you’re joining me.”

You laughed, it was light and genuine with the heaviness of Joel’s absence lifted, his return sweeping out the heavy air that always settled in with each departure.

“I suppose, that can be arranged,” you teased, a knowing look passing between the two of you.

Joel’s smile widened as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as if welcoming back an old friend, “Is that right darlin’?” 

“Fresh sheets on the bed too.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent question lingering in that simple gesture. You’d been together for quite some time and yet still he was touched with disbelief that this was life, that anticipation of the domesticity you brought him, something he had believed he’d ever get to indulge in again.

“Well, don’t you know how to welcome a man home,” his smirk deepening into an expression of gratitude. 

He stood from the chair, his movements still carrying evidence of his fatigue and the hollow ache in his bones. The faintest grimace crossed his face, quickly replaced by a lazy grin as he caught your disapproving look. He shooed you through the kitchen door to avoid any potential fussing, a light touch to your lower back, guiding you to the stairs.

The house was still, the only sound was the soft creak of the floorboards underfoot and the distant whistle of the wind outside, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.

The shower’s sound filled the bathroom, echoing off the tiled walls within the shower stall. Steam filled the room as you helped Joel out of his clothes, finally resigned to giving in to your care and attention. With each piece of clothing shed, dropped to the floor, revealed more of the toll the patrol had taken on his body. 

He let out a hiss as your fingers grazed over new dark bruises, shadows under his skin in a mottled watercolour display in purple and blue. Despite his attempts to downplay it, the patrol had clearly been a tough one.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said gruffly, catching the concern on your face, swiftly replaced with a roll of your eyes in response.

Joel stepped into the shower, and let out a soft groan as the hot water cascaded over his sore body. He bowed his head under the stream as he braced one hand against the shower wall. Stripped of your own clothes, you stepped in behind him, hands coming to rest on his hips. Slowly, your fingers began to knead the tense muscles along his back, feeling him quickly relax into your touch.

“Rough one out there this time,” he muttered, a tinge of bitterness in his tone as his eyes closed at your touch.

In the safety of the intimate space of the shower, the water releasing the tension from his shoulders, there was a vulnerability that Joel seldom showed.

You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently applying it to his shoulders. Carefully you worked the soap over his body in a meticulous order, paying extra attention to the areas marred by bruises. When you reached the back of his head you massaged your fingers into his hair with a gentleness that was born out of years of shared moments just like that one. 

Joel tilted his head back into your touch, a deep moan escaped his throat as your nails scratched at his scalp, fingers tangling in the curls that had grown longer with the winter weather and his reluctance to stay on top of trimming it. After a moment or two, begrudgingly, you took your fingers from his hair. He bowed his head under the shower head once again to allow the hot water to rinse out the suds. 

Your eyes traced the scars that adorned his back and shoulders like constellations. You could shut your eyes and still map out each one without any hesitation. Many a night, you had traced the lines of his back as he lay on his stomach with you lying next to him. Your fingers brushed strokes over its curves as you talked, sometimes of life before Jackson, life before everything stopped. You would talk about those you missed, who didn’t make it, left behind in a world that was no longer recognizable. Other times, silence was enough, a gentle shroud draped over the two of you. 

With the suds long rinsed out, he turned to face you. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of you. There was a time when this look made you feel vulnerable and far too exposed, with your own scars, those both visible and not, on full display. But now it brought you comfort, that familiarity between the two of you had grown into something precious.

“You look after me too well, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the shower’s spray.

“Who else is going to?” you replied, a hint of amusement to your tone as you pushed back an errant curl from his forehead.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a slow, tender kiss. The familiar scratch of his beard against your skin felt like home. His breath hitched as you moved your hands around his hips and up the curve of his back, your nails a light scratch against his skin. A sigh of contentment passed between you both, carried away by the steam rising around you.

Pulling back for a moment, his need to pause in the moment, to take it all in, his eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but notice the affection they held, a far contrast from when you’d first laid eyes on Joel Miller. The man you had first met was skittish, kept quiet in his new arrival in Jackson. You’d met him that night at the Tipsy Bison, Eugene regaling the room with a story of your day's misfortune and you’d made your way to the bar to avoid the heckles.

What started as casual conversations at the bar on more than one occasion turned into shared meals in the main hall, Joel too polite to leave when you joined him, then the odd patrols together, and eventually late nights spent in each other's company neither wanting the night to end.

His thumbs gently caressed your cheeks, and you leaned into his touch, your eyes closed at the sweet gesture. He pressed his lips to yours once more. The hot water continued to cascade over you both, creating a warm cocoon you didn’t ever want to leave. Your hands returned to his hips, taking their time as they moved from the curve of his broad shoulders down to his narrow waist. 

“Feels good,” Joel murmured against your lips, his voice husky and thick with gratitude, his eyes half closed as he rocked into the movement of your fingers as they pressed into the tight muscle once again. “But if you keep that up honey, I fear one of us is going to put their back out tryin’ something in this shower we have no business trying. Anyway,” he continued, “didn’t you say something about clean sheets?”

You laughed, as you continued to knead his hips, “I might have mentioned it,” you replied as you gave him a playful pinch.

Joel’s laughter joined yours, a deep, comforting sound that resonated against the tiled walls. Amidst the steam and cascading water it felt precious, a rare moment of lightness that felt almost sacred in its intimacy. 

The two of you finished your shower with a comfortable efficiency in a silent communication that spoke of the years and experiences you’d shared. 

Once dried and wrapped in freshly laundered towels you led Joel by the hand to the bedroom where the promise of fresh sheets awaited, The morning sun had begun to fill the room with a soft golden light that made everything feel a lot more peaceful than the days gone by in Joel’s absence. The bed, freshly made in the early hours when you’d given up on any attempts of sleep, beckoned the two of you to rest and to find solace in each other now both its inhabitants were home.

Joel sat on the edge, his movements slow, a mixture of exhaustion and lingering discomfort. You watched him for a moment, his face bathed in the winter’s sun the lines of his face were softened and for a moment you felt like you were getting a small glimpse of a younger Joel as he closed his eyes and lifted his head to soak in the scant warmth it brought. You felt a surge of gratitude for his safe return, to the quiet life the two of you had managed to carve out together in a world that offered no guarantees.

Joel cracked open an eye to look at you at the end of the bed, “You can come on over honey, don’t have to watch from the cheap seats.”

You shook your head as you laughed, no hesitation in following his invitation. You positioned yourself in front of him as he spread his knees to make room for you to nestle between them, bringing your chest flush with his. Carefully he began to peel the towel from around you, his fingers grazing your skin with a gentleness that belied the strength within them. 

As the towel dropped to the floor at your feet, you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines that time had etched into his skin, each one a testament to the life he had lived. He caught your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the palm before guiding you down to follow him as he lay on the bed.

The sheets, cool and inviting, contrasted with the warmth that radiated from Joel as he pulled you closer. The world outside the window seemed to hold its breath, the light that fell across the room created a haven from the chaos that lay beyond. There with him beside you, for the briefest of moments you could just pretend that it was a regular Saturday morning, just like the ones before the world had changed, where the two of you could have simply been another regular couple.

You closed the space between you, your fingers tangling in his damp locks while his lips met yours. The kiss was soft but held an air of a fight of urgency against the need to savour the moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, swollen in response to both his kisses and his three-day beard. 

A soft moan escaped your mouth, causing a growl to rumble in Joel’s chest in response. His arms wrapped tighter around you. It was always the way when he returned, he never rushed, took every moment in slowly, savouring every touch, every sound that he pulled from you. His lips found your neck, his beard scraping the sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips continued to graze a path from your earlobe to your collarbone.

He nuzzled at your jaw, his kisses light and teasing causing you to squirm in delight as you tried to pull his mouth to yours. His laughter was low and husky in your ear as instead he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were alight despite the tiredness that framed them and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as your hand found his cheek and he leaned into your embrace.

The tiny bit of warmth of the morning sun framed the two of you, amplified by the heat that had built between you both, wrapped around you like a blanket, comfortable and familiar. His lips found yours again, unable to be parted for too long. His hand cupped your hip, his fingers pressing into you as if testing if you were really there, if the moment was real between the two of you. Confident he had a hold of you, he rolled over onto this back, bringing you with him so that you were straddling him.

Both hands now at your waist his thumbs stroked absent-minded circles against your skin. You glanced down at him, taking in the sight of his now closed eyes and relaxed features. His exhaustion was apparent more than ever. But the sight of pure contentment on his face made your heart flutter. 

The air between you was charged with static, which only seemed to grow in intensity with each breath, each touch, and each whispered word. The worries you’d had during his absence, tied up alongside the knot in your stomach were now coming undone with the soothing balm of his presence.

You leant forward again, this time your lips met his in a simple chaste kiss that had him humming appreciatively beneath you as he moved his hands to the small of your back. Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, a sudden slam of what sounded like the back kitchen door punctuated the serene atmosphere, startling the two of you and Joel to grip onto you a little tighter. The muffled sounds of footsteps and voices drifted up the stairs bursting what was left of the bubble of intimacy you and Joel had carefully cultivated.

“Ah, sweet! Honey made bread!” Ellie’s voice, unmistakable and filled with loud delight echoed up through the house, followed by another voice that you had to strain to hear, Dina, a lot more soft-spoken than Ellie.

“Looks like they left in a rush,” Dina said as you heard cupboards being opened and closed with such ferocity that it could only be Ellie. Joel shook his head beneath you as the two of you waited to hear more of what was happening downstairs, “Ellie, didn’t Joel just get home from patrol?”

A brief silence passed, you could’ve sworn you could have heard a pin drop as the whole house seemed to hold its breath. Then came a flurry of whispered curses from Ellie, her realization finally dawning on her. 

“Oh shit,” she exclaimed, before raising her voice, a mixture of haste and apology in one, “Welcome home Joel! Sorry Honey! You two, keep doing your thing—ouch!” you could only assume Dina had stopped Ellie in her tracks before she said something she shouldn’t, “Anyway, we’re leaving! But we’re taking the bread!”

Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie and Dina continued to bicker as they left the kitchen. It wasn’t until you both heard the satisfying click of the kitchen lock that you both let out a laugh. The interruption had shattered the tension between the two of you, leaving you both in a fit of laughter. 

As the laughter subsided, you brushed a thumb over his rough cheek as he stifled a yawn, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch once more. Another kiss to his lips before you rolled yourself off of him to lay down beside him, but still just as close. He pulled you in against his chest, your head finding a home in the crook of his neck, his arms holding you tight, his fingers tracing imagined patterns on your bare skin.

He was home, you could hear the steady sound of his heartbeat in your ear. Outside the wind picked up in spite of the early peaceful sun that rose over Jackson. A reminder that despite the peace Joel’s return had brought, there still was a looming threat outside its boundaries, its frozen breath seeping through wooden walls. You held onto him a little tighter, knowing that despite wishing that you both could be a normal couple in a life full of normalities, the time you had together was tenuous at best.

[admiringlove]

growing pains. hello everybody. welcome to the second rendition of @angstober 2024! i hope you enjoy <3

kageyama tobio was a cute kid.

he moved in when you were just three. back then, your days were filled with learning big words, your mother patiently guiding you through children's books, when suddenly, a boy with an oversized, odd-looking ball came into your world. his hair was parted right down the middle, and every day, he’d be out in the yard, chasing after that strange ball with his grandfather, completely obsessed.

you were six when he first said hello. it took him two and a half years to work up the courage, and all because that ridiculous ball of his ended up in your front yard. without asking, he came through the gate, eyes wide with panic, just as you were about to head to the park.

“who are you?” you’d asked, head tilted with curiosity, and he’d stammered out his name like he’d been caught red-handed in a burglary. then, of course, you had to ask about the ball—bigger than his head. what was the deal with that? “it’s a volleyball,” he’d mumbled, and from that moment on, the two of you were intertwined, like a mystery waiting to unfold.

for the next ten years, kageyama tobio became your favorite puzzle. you chased after him like someone chasing a wild animal, half playfully, half determined. at first, it was a game—like you were sherlock and he, your elusive moriarty. your mother had always read you detective stories before bed, so solving the enigma that was kageyama seemed only natural.

when he turned seven, he found you in his front yard, peering through a magnifying glass, completely absorbed in your detective work. for an entire week, the two of you played with that thing, examining ants at the park, squinting at the pen strokes his father made in his books. eventually, he got bored. but you didn’t. no, you kept staring—sometimes at the world, but often at him.

you never tired of anything, especially not of him. you wanted to know more, to know everything. curiosity overflowed within you, spilling out like an unsolvable riddle. and you know what they say—curiosity killed the cat.

because it wasn’t just the world you wanted to uncover, not really. it was kageyama tobio. he was the one who truly fascinated you. when you learned in fifth grade that he had a soft spot for flavored milk, that was it. it became your little tradition. every so often, you’d head to the vending machine, and without fail, you’d grab him a drink—banana or strawberry, depending on the day. in return, he’d hand you the chips his mother packed in his lunch, like an unspoken exchange, as familiar as breathing. if it were up to him, it would always be strawberry.

and that’s how it was, the two of you orbiting each other like planets—his world of volleyball, your world of endless curiosity. playful, magnetic, bound together by rituals only you two understood.

you turned eleven and discovered that liking boys was a real thing. at first, the thought repulsed you; all you wanted was to bury yourself in the pages of sherlock holmes and pretend to play volleyball with kageyama. he was a prodigy, after all, dazzling everyone with his skills. kids from other districts flocked to watch him, enchanted by his talent. thankfully, he hadn’t yet transformed into an absolute twat; his ego was still catching up with him, lingering just out of reach.

“tobio,” you said one day, scrutinizing him as he carelessly set the ball near the riverbank. your gaze was fixed on the tips of his fingers, studying them as if they were an intricate puzzle waiting to be solved. he paused, turning to face you with a look of curiosity. “don’t your fingers hurt?”

“eh?” he replied, shuffling closer. with a flick of his wrist, he held out his hand toward you. “you mean this?”

the eleven-year-old boy displayed a myriad of calluses on his hands, more than you could count. you gasped in dramatic shock, a hand flying to your mouth, and couldn’t resist teasing him about his mother not noticing how rough and unsightly they had become. his eyes narrowed in mock indignation as he yelled at you for talking trash about his mother. you quickly apologized, laughter bubbling up as you declared you would simply have to complain about his “disgusting” hands instead.

that was the essence of your friendship—something sacred, woven from playful banter and shared secrets. the two of you were inseparable, bound by the threads of childhood innocence and mischief.

now, when you think back, it’s often to those moments—him proudly displaying his calluses as you played near the bridge by the river, the sun casting golden hues across the water. you remember walking home alongside him at sunset, a flutter of fear in your stomach about the kidnappers your father had warned you about just the other day. tobio had simply chuckled, telling you that you weren’t an actual genius like sherlock, so you couldn’t possibly be a target for any kidnapper anyway.

life was so simple, so beautifully uncomplicated, until you turned fourteen.

because that’s when you realized you had indeed grown up. you were on the winding road to adulthood, and suddenly, you found yourself hopelessly in love with your next-door neighbor, kageyama tobio—your best friend of eight years. he had sprouted taller, like a young tree reaching for the sky, and his voice had deepened into a rich timbre that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. everything felt like it was shifting beneath your feet, especially as he found new friends who flocked to him like birds of a feather, while you remained nestled in your closely knit circle, distanced from him.

how were you supposed to navigate these newfound feelings? the conditions were far from ideal. how could you possibly have a crush on him while trying to maintain the friendship you cherished so much, especially when your social circles had diverged at school? being a teenager had suddenly morphed into a tangled web of complexities, each strand pulling you in different directions.

you still managed to walk home with him every day after your club activities, a routine that felt like a comforting ritual. you were quickly on your way to becoming the head of your literature club at junior high, while kageyama had been consumed by his passion for volleyball since he was just a kid. being next-door neighbors with the love of your life was undeniably convenient; it meant he had no choice but to stroll alongside you.

thankfully, the dynamic remained blissfully unchanged. the playful teasing, the exchange of strawberry and banana milk, and the shared bags of cheese puffs, or sometimes other chips, were the threads that wove your friendship together. it didn’t matter what snack you had; all you really wanted was to watch him sip through a thin plastic straw, the golden glow of the setting sun casting a warm halo around him as you walked the quiet streets together.

you cherished these moments, especially since he never hurried you along. instead, he walked slowly, savoring the time spent together, as if he genuinely enjoyed your company. this new pace allowed you both to appreciate the little things—the laughter of children playing in the distance, the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze, and the gentle warmth of the sun dipping below the horizon. it felt like a breath of fresh air, invigorating and sweet, a reminder that these small moments were treasures to be cherished.

but then you turned fifteen, and tobio transformed into someone unrecognizable. the boy who had once sparked your curiosity now seemed bitter and hardened, his heart cloaked in ego that swelled within him like a balloon about to burst. his tone had sharpened, cutting through the air like a knife, and he often wore a mask of rudeness that left you reeling. yet, despite it all, your heart still weakly fluttered whenever he was near, an instinctive reaction you couldn’t quite shake.

then it happened. one fateful day, as you walked past the gym to pick up tobio, you overheard a conversation that pierced through you like an arrow.

"aren't they your childhood friend? don't you think they're attractive, even if it's just a little?"

the words lingered in the air, but before you could savor the thought, his response shattered your heart.

"what? no! i could never see them like that. this is grossing me out. stop talking nonsense and focus on volleyball. you didn't spike this set on time!"

his words struck like a hammer, relentless and unforgiving, stomping on your heart a million times without him even realizing the damage he’d done. it was as if the boy you had cherished for so long had vanished, leaving behind only a shadow of the friendship you once held dear.

that day, you walked home alone for the first time ever, the silence of the empty streets echoing the ache in your chest. when the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, you felt a weight pressing down on you. the next day, he didn’t question your absence, didn’t seem to care at all. and in that moment, you understood: you were no longer the person he had once found intriguing. you were just a ghost of a past friendship, lost in the void that had replaced your bond. he was not moriarty anymore, and neither were you sherlock.

you wondered if you ever were.

slowly, you created a chasm between him and you. it was a drift you instigated, unaware of the full weight of your decision. one by one, he lost the people he once held close, and you stood on the sidelines, a silent witness, hoping desperately that he would grasp the hint you were trying to send.

then, one afternoon, while walking home with a small paper bag of eggs cradled in your arms, you collided with him. curses swirled through your mind as you attempted to sidestep him, but his voice cut through the air, halting your escape.

"aren't you cold?"

you raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze, your heart racing with an unexpected mix of hope and apprehension. you hummed softly in response, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. he repeated his question, and you shook your head, summoning a casualness you didn’t truly feel. "just a small walk. i didn't think i'd need a jacket."

"right," he mumbled under his breath, and the silence that followed felt thick with unspoken words. a part of you longed to mention his recent benching during the last match, but the fear of misinterpretation held you back, like a weight pressing on your tongue.

"are you doing okay nowadays?" the question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. you still cared, a part of you reluctant to sever the last thread binding you to him. it felt like that age-old adage—"curiosity killed the cat"—echoing in your mind, a reminder of your unfulfilled longing.

he opened his mouth, perhaps to share something profound, but then hesitated. you knew his expressions as well as the lines of your own heart; he seemed to weigh his words carefully. "i'm okay. i'm going to a high school called karasuno. you?"

the answer came too quickly, and the disappointment surged within you. "i'm going to seijoh, like oikawa and iwa-senpai," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i enrolled there because i thought you'd be going there too. so, you know, we could walk together-"

he cut you off, the sharpness of his words slicing through the fragile moment. "we haven't done that in months, who are you kidding?"

you blinked, surprise washing over you like cold water. he was right. in the span of what felt like an eternity, the simple companionship you had once shared had faded into memory. perhaps your wishful thinking had blinded you to the reality; you were no longer the two kids wandering home together.

"i'm... sorry," you tilt your head, "have i done something to make you mad?"

you thought this was what he wanted—that he didn’t care for your tetra packs of strawberry or banana milk, that he was indifferent to your presence beside him as you walked home from school. the realization stung like a bee’s bite, leaving you with the unsettling notion that your companionship was as easily replaceable as the snacks you offered. but then he clicked his tongue, shaking his head with that familiar exasperation, his voice laced with sarcasm that dripped like spicy honey, sweet yet sharp.

“no. you can never do anything wrong, am i right?”

with that, he turned and walked into his house, leaving you standing there, the air heavy with unsaid words.

months passed without a glimpse of him. it was only when you were returning home from literature club, the sun dipping below the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement, that you spotted him. there he was, in a black uniform, juggling a volleyball under one arm while the other struggled to pry a few papers from between his teeth as he rummaged through his bag.

“do you need any help?” your voice sliced through the crisp evening air, a tentative offering. he blinked, momentarily surprised, before handing you the scattered papers and the ball.

“y-yeah. i’m looking for my keys. ever since miwa went off to college, there’s no one to open the door when i get home.”

“right,” you nodded, trying to maintain the semblance of normalcy. you didn’t need to fill the silence anymore; you were both ghosts of the friendship that once thrived in easy conversation. “i can walk in with these if you want. help you put them wherever, since it’s hard to carry everything together-”

“it’s okay,” he interrupted, his tone clipped, a habit you had grown all too familiar with. “i can take care of myself.”

your lips pressed together, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “alright then,” you replied, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

but as you turned toward your front yard, the moment shattered into a sharp breath. “why did you stop walking home with me?” his voice rang out into the twilight, a challenge hanging between you like a fragile thread.

the world around you fell silent, the air thick with unspoken words. the confrontation hung in the space between you, an echo of the past colliding with the reality of the present. you hesitated, heart racing, caught in the tension of a friendship unravelling, desperately wanting to answer but unsure of how to put the fragments of your feelings into words. "you weren't yourself, i guess. that, and i heard you say something about me to someone. but never mind that. it doesn't matter anymore."

“what?” he furrows his brows, confusion etching deep lines on his forehead. “what do you mean you heard me say something about you to someone? what the hell did i even say for this to happen to us?”

“didn’t you want this to happen?” you retort, your words tumbling out like a well-rehearsed line from a play. “i thought you found me gross.”

he blinks, taken aback, his surprise evident in the widening of his eyes. “when did i ever say i found you gross? what is wrong with you?”

“what is wrong with me?” you echo, the fire in your chest igniting into a full blaze. you’re not quite sure where this rage is coming from, but it feels exhilarating and terrifying all at once. “what’s wrong with me is that it was my fault for ever loving you and thinking you could feel the same because you’re a selfish prick! you’re oblivious and dense and you don’t feel the same way about me, so i left because i didn’t want to be in a place where i wasn’t needed-”

realization crashes over you like a tidal wave in mid-sentence, the weight of your words suffocating. a hand flies to cover your mouth, the confession hanging in the air like an uninvited guest. his expression morphs into one of shock, the volleyball slipping from his grasp and hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, the way his world seems to tilt on its axis, so you turn and flee, heart racing as you dart into your house, slamming the door behind you. the echo of your confession reverberates in your mind, each heartbeat reminding you of what you just unleashed—a truth that feels like it could shatter everything.

you avoided him for months after that moment, but still, you found yourself at every game, an invisible presence in the crowd. you watched as karasuno faced off against kamomedai, your heart aching with every spike and serve, each point a reminder of the distance that had grown between you. tobio had transformed into someone new, shedding his egotistical shell like a snake sloughing off its skin, and finding camaraderie with teammates who genuinely cared for him.

it filled you with anger. why couldn’t he have made this change years ago? if only he had, maybe letting go of your feelings would have been easier. instead, you felt trapped on the sidelines of his life, a spectator to a story that once intertwined your paths.

“w-what are you doing here?” a shaky voice pulls you from your thoughts as you exit the gym. you turn, startled, to find kageyama tobio standing before you. his chest heaves with exertion, droplets of sweat glistening on his skin, and he gazes at you as if you were a relic he had lost long ago.

“i... came to watch the game,” you reply, shrugging, trying to sound casual. “you did good. i hope your friend isn’t injured, by the way.”

“yeah... he’s uh- hinata’s fine,” he nods, his words a soft echo in the tense air. “thank you for coming. it means a lot.”

you press your lips into a straight line, nodding, the weight of the moment heavy between you. it feels like the right time to leave, to escape the growing tension, but he continues.

“i felt the same way about you back then,” he says, and your heart drops, your feet seemingly glued to the ground. his melancholic gaze pierces through you, and the heartbreak looms overhead like a storm cloud ready to burst. “i’m sorry if i hurt you.”

“y-you what?” you whisper, tilting your head as disbelief washes over you. “tobio, you-”

“i can’t say i feel that way now. all i can focus on from now on is volleyball,” he sighs, his gaze falling to the floor, the weight of his words suffocating. “but it really was great being friends with you. i hope we can... try that again sometime.”

in that moment, something within you shatters, the pieces scattering like autumn leaves in a gust of wind. you realize how deeply you had clung to him, how he had become the center of your universe; an object of desire you could never grasp. slowly, painfully, he had outgrown you, moving forward as you remained rooted in the past, a decision you made to push him away when he needed you the most.

perhaps this was what you deserved. perhaps this was how it was meant to be—him, chasing his dreams like icarus, and you, watching from the side lines, heart heavy with the weight of unfulfilled wishes and lost chances.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[catiuskaa]

spots on.

SUMMARY: you. hannie. embraces. hugs. cuddles, and other synonyms. desperately needed by yesterday. complaints will be declined and ignored.

REQUESTED! by lovely annonie right here. and god you are so right, fluff + hannie is a clinical need, dare I say biblical! ㅠㅠ<3

CW: you might need a dentist appointment for this one. teeth rotting stuff. i assure you.

WC: 1.1k

A/N: so i’m back from the dead and haven’t written anything since february’s special and have been real low lately. thought fluffy hannie could cheer all of us up! <3

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

Han loved watching romantic movies by himself.

It’s not like he didn’t have anyone to watch them with. He had watched plenty of shows either with you or any of the boys.

But ever since he started writing and composing lyrics, a little before he got into college, there was something about those cheesy series that had him unable to stop watching.

His eyes would glow as he stared at the screen before him while he watched, invested in how the protagonist accidentally tripped and fell against the love interest, all over again. Giggling and kicking his feet when they held hands after hours upon hours straight of watching them bicker. Having his chest tightening because the actors were so good that he could almost feel the stars in his eyes, shining just for her.

Jisung loved those old-fashioned scenes. Dancing in the rain, a silly meet cute in a book shop… countless places for one silly little emotion.

Han couldn’t see it, but he also had stars in his eyes. He blinked, feeling his eyes lightly itchy, realizing he had been watching you sleep.

Not in a creepy way, of course. After all, you had wanted to stay over to finish one of the many assignments you two had to do together for some of the mandatory subjects in both of your majors. He sighed, his eyes weirdly fixated on your figure, unable to stop looking at you. Even while sleeping, there was a certain grace to you, as if you were just resting peacefully after a long day. He snorted upon realizing that your face was pressed against the pages of the book, a sneaky drop of drool coming out of your mouth. You looked so cute.

“Get a grip, Han,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a smile, giggling.

He rubbed his eyes, staring back to what he had been drafting the past hours. It was clearly obvious that his sleepiness was getting to him, because it was getting harder to decipher what the characters he was typing meant.

Suddenly, there was a hand lightly scratching your back.

You flinched in your place, sitting back up.

“It’s just me,” Han said softly. You blinked so slowly it almost looked like you had blinked one eyelid at a time.

“…awake. ‘M awake.” You brushed off drool from the corner of your mouth, to which Jisung chuckled lightly.

“Okay, sleepyhead. Time to go to bed.”

“Eh?”

“Bed, silly. We should have some sleep. We’re both doozing off.”

Bed? Judging by the time that the clock in Han’s apartment said, it was far from being that late, which was proved true when Hannie picked you up —God knows how, because he showed no signs of struggling— and brought the “sleepyhead” over to his room, that even after turning off the lamp on the bedside table, the windows let in light that the Sun had yet to take away while leaving space for the Moon to beam in a couple of hours.

He grunted lowly when he laid you down on the bed, which had little to do with your weight and much more with how you pulled him towards you.

“Hannie.” You mumbled sleepily.

“You’re close to cranky,” he smiled. “You haven’t had your coffee, and you fell asleep doing our assignment.” He sighed, moving stray hairs off your face, his hand lingering on its side, stroking your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to get on your cranky side.” Jisung teased with a tenderness only showed in your presence, not in his usual teasing, not with the rest of the world. Somehow, time spent with Han seemed like the world itself stopped spinning, waiting for you two and catch up later.

“…no.” You whined. His hand still rested on your face. Unusual. You didn’t want him to move it. “I don’t want to steal your bed.”

Unconciously, you moved closer to the warmth that his palm brought.

“It’s ok. You came here walking, and there’s no way I’m letting you leave now, not at this time.”

You frowned at him, almost pouting. You purposefuly resigned to argue, sleepily accepting his win over a silly discusion you could’ve won. But it was much better if it meant that he would keep being so… tender. You two were dating, yes, but it was quite strange, because even if you both knew about each other’s feelings, staying together had been more of a silent agreement.

Yet in that moment, seeing him smile, dark boba coloured eyes sheepishly and momentarily hidden by it, turning them into happy crescent-shaped moons, it was easy to figure asking was worth a shot.

“…stay w’me?”

His heart skipped more beats than he could count.

This hadn’t been planned. Well. Certainly not this way.

“Stay?” His tone of voice had lowered.

You hummed, smiling lightly. Your hand creeped up to his, the one that rested close to your face. In a sleepy move on your side, tantalizing for Jisung, your fingers tickled his skin, from his forearm to his palm, following a gentle path until your hand held his, and you pulled him towards you again, with more care this time.

Jisung could hear his mate’s low voice in his head, full with its classic australian accent.

“Ain’t no way she’s not head over heels for you too. I’d bet money on it,” Felix had chuckled, sipping the beer Han had handed him. “You guys are just blind cunts when you wanna be. Affectionately, of course,” he had added after seeing Jisung squint at him.

Han struggled to get comfortable in his now seemingly small bed. Of course it was small for two people. It had to be, because if you two were to fit in the space avaliable, it would mean that-

“…cold…”

The ruffles coming from how you then shifted on the bed were no match to how loud Han’s heartbeat sounded on his ears.

Your arm slid under his, lying limply on the curve of his waist, the other cocooned in the small space you settled in between you as you slotted your face in the crook of his neck.

thump, thump, thump.

He forced himself to relax.

“…how are you so warm, Ji?”

He had no fucking idea.

“Warm?”

You nodded, your hair tickling his face gently.

“…cozy. Like… a really cute ‘n little… weighted blanket.” You sighed, further relaxing into him, sending a chill to his spine as your warm breath brushed against his neck.

He was so fucking grateful for being so.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” He stated with a silly smile, a blush clearly obvious on his cheeks. He tackled you, and the two of you filled the room with giggles, his arms taking your body and settleing it on top of him.

You melted in his arms. “I missed you.”

He smiled, his hands playing with your hair. “I was only away for the weekend.”

“…don’t care.” His heart threatened to carve through his chest or melt when you tightened your hold on him, then tugged the blanket closer, covering you, thus covering him too.

He settled a strand of your hair behind your ear, noticing little moles in the way.

“I hadn’t noticed these ones before,” he mumbled in a soft voice that could almost lull you to sleep.

You hummed, not bothering to answer.

“I’ve heard somewhere,” he started soothingly, “that moles appear in the spots where, in your past life, you were kissed the most.”

With a sweetness that rottened your teeth, he pecked the small coloured spot in your neck. Then, he followed a short pattern, kissing the one under your ear, then another one in your shoulder, then finished off with the one in your cheek.

You smiled. “You don’t have any moles, do you?” He shook his head sideways, and you chuckled, brushing your nose with his sweetly.

“You better stay put, Ji,” you beamed cheekily. “I’ll make new moles on you.”

His chest tightened, and he beamed, chuckling as you peppered kisses all over his face.

A love scene like the movies.

His new favourite one.

[☆🔹🫂🔹☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~Kats, who has to apologize for being dead for so long (and doesn’t quite have an excuse for it), and also has to tHANK ALL OF YOU BC WE’RE 1k FOLLOWERS IN BAKFBQIFNQKFKQK THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYS SRSLY I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN WJKFBAKF <333333

[yourstruly-caycay]

A "Loving" Husband

Yan! Poseidon x reader

Woo! My first time writing a yandere version of a character, and for the first time in forever I post something ehe.

Warning: yandere behaviour incoming

Synopsis: Poseidon never have any intention to tell Atlas, his son, about the inside of the golden door under the deep sea within the darkness. But, out of impatient and curiosity, Atlas bound to uncover the secret.

....................

The curious little boy finds himself in front of a huge golden door, a shiny one as it shines by the glimpse of the moon. He checks his surroundings once more to make sure he doesn't hear any doorstep near him as the window shows a scenery of the darkness of the sea. He sighs in relief as he's ready to find the answer that his dad has been avoiding to answer, “If this door is in this deep underground, what could dad possibly hide?” 

He tries to push the door, he keeps pushing to the point his face and hand turns red. “I can open it!” He courage himself  as it finally opened a little bit, small enough to fit his size.  

“Ha! Dad must be proud if he knows that I can open a door this heavy.” He pat his back proudly as he goes through the door. The inside of the room is exactly as he questions it, a room full of old neat treasures and artifacts on the shelves. Out of all the treasure he saw, he spotted something bigger. A beautiful and shiny marble statue of a life-sized woman sitting on a couch with a lot of jewelry on her and white silk dress, but he notices that the clothes at the waist part are ruffled, as if that part has always been touched. 

"Hmm, why does the ring seem familiar?" To get a better sight, he climbed to her thigh and sat on her. Observing the ring closer, he remembered the very same pair of rings in his dad's finger.

“But why is it on the statue? I thought mom was supposed to wear this? Perhaps I should try to give it back to her.” Carefully, his eyes focus on taking off the ring from the finger without realizing that his feets slip from the statue's silk dress as he’s hanging by the ring finger. 

Unfortunately, the ring finger cracks as his head knocks onto the floor. He rubbed on his injured head, displeased seeing the gold blood on his hand from the injured head. However, the feeling of pain is replaced by panic as he closes his mouth when he sees the ring finger shatter from the statue. In a speed, he grabs the statue's ring finger and sprints all the way to his room.

… 

By the next morning-

"WHY DO YOU NEED TO BE ANGRY JUST FOR A MISSING PART OF A STATUE?" 

The boy jolted up from the sudden loud voice outside his room, he immediately opened the door. His heart beats fast and eyes go wide seeing his father and mother arguing in the hallway with Hades and some staff hidden in the corner or running away because they’re too scared at the sight of Poseidon.

"WHY? I'VE WARNED EVERYONE IN THIS CASTLE NOT TO ENTER THAT ROOM EXCEPT FOR ME, BUT A HIDDEN INSECT SEEMS TO HAVE BROKEN INTO THAT ROOM! I’LL FIND THE FOOL AND SHRED THEIR HANDS."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE YOUR SUDDEN OUTRAGE LIKE A MAD MAN." 

“You insolent women-” Before Poseidon’s trident even near Amphitrite, Hades held his wrist and said in a stern voice. “Poseidon, calm down,” His eyes now turn to glare at him, but Hades still has the stoic face and staring back at him, “It’s just a statue, I don't know what's so special about that. But, if you’re still determine to punish the culprit, do it, but don’t throw the blame to the wrong person.”

And so, he put his trident down, his breath steadier and turned back to his usual stoic face, yet eyes still glare at his brother, “Just a statue? That statue is a prize possession of mine, worthy of my time to care for it.”

Hades can only sigh and shake his head in disappointment, meanwhile Amphitrite opens her mouth to say something while holding in the trembling voice with knees getting weak pressing down her fear as she stares back at him. The trident might not pierce her at all, but the sharp wind from the trident is enough to cause a scratch of gold blood to flow from her face.  

"You've got to be kidding me, Poseidon, everyone already fucking know that you're protective of that precious little statue of yours. I don’t know what’s so special about it, it might be more special than me, but have you even spared a little heart for your poor wife whom you married by your own choice? Why do you marry me if you never treat me like a wife?"

"Amphitrite," Poseidon said coldly, "Since when gods married for love? Just do your own job as a queen." 

Poseidon is finally out of sight as Amphitrite clenches her fist, glaring at her husband's back. "Tch, what did the statue do to make you this crazy?" she mumbles. 

"Amphitrite, I do apologize for his manners." Hades pats her shoulder as he sees her in a trembling state, she gazes at him with tears spilling from her eyes. 

"There's no need to apologize," she wipes her tears, "It’s his fault… no, it's my fault. How stupid and naive I am to agree to marrying him in the first place. I thought that maybe… if I become a good wife; a good mother, then maybe he can at least show an ounce of love to me like any lover does… what did I do to deserve this?" 

"Don't say that, it’s his fault for being immature." 

"Immature?" she snapped at him, "No no no, it’s insanity. I saw it in his eyes, the possessiveness and madness when the part of the statue is missing, all for the sake of that? I don’t know how long I will have to bear this. I can slowly go insane too for centuries living in this lifeless marriage, Hades, especially when the son he so much loved is not my own blood-" She gasped and closed her mouth, Hades got caught off guard hearing it.

"What?" He holds her shoulder, “What do you mean? Didn’t Poseidon announce to the whole Greek pantheons about you bearing his child?” Amphitrite isn’t able to hold eye contact anymore seeing the confused but angry Hades. 

"Mom..."Her heart drops dead as she turns in horror to see him trembling, the familiar uncomfortable expression when he has to witness the familiar scene many times.

"Atlas!" She runs to hug him, "Did you just see the fight? Oh, I'm so sorry to have you see that." 

"Mom... what do you mean?" 

"W- what is it?" 

"So, you're not really my mom?" His eyes are getting glossier each time passed along with his red nose. "Then, where's my real mom? Did she abandon me?" The tears fall as his crying sound is getting louder making her feeling more guilty, she hugs him tightly and pat his blonde hair. 

“No no, of course not my dear… she’s umm… she-”

“I believe me and him deserve an explanation from you, Amphitrite.” He glared at Amphitrite like a predator caged its prey, unable to let her run away from the problem. After a long uncomfortable silence, she takes a breath first and stands up to glance at him. 

“You both deserve an explanation… but, promise me,” she continued, “Don’t tell Poseidon, at least not now, okay?” He nods as she leads them to Atlas’ bedroom and locks the door. She sits on his bed as she massages her head, trying to find the best words to explain while the two of them wait for her. 

“I already knew Atlas when he’s only a toddler, I still remember the sight of Poseidon holding him…”

… 

~The night before the wedding~

To her younger self when she was still a naive princess, who was once frightened by Poseidon’s first sight. The way he always ignores her or glares at her when she makes a mistake. Hundreds of insults and mockery threw at her, driving her to avoid him even more throughout years staying in Poseidon castle as his fiance because her father thought that it’s a “good thing” for her to get familiar with him before the marriage.

When she’s ready to go to sleep, relaxing her tense muscles before tomorrow's marriage, the sudden strange calming sound arouses her suspicion. She opens the doors and follows the sound. All the way to the bottom of the sea floors. She found the source of the sound from one of the rooms and opened the door a little bit. Her eyes went wide at such a beautiful sight of the cold tyrant of the sea showing a small smile toward the unknown baby, holding the sleeping baby with such a gentle touch while humming a calm deep lullaby with the moon illuminating him heavenly like an angel. 

“Impossible, how can he be so cruel, yet gentle at the same time?” She mutter

“Women, what are you doing?” She jumped at his sharp tone, once warm turned icy in a split second. She slowly opened the door, welcomed by his unamused face. She clears her throat to not feel pressured by the awkwardness, “My apologies, Poseidon, I just happened to hear your heavenly lullaby from my bedroom, I can’t help but listen to it too.” 

She glanced at the sleeping baby, a smile growing wide fighting the urge not to touch the cheek, “So, who’s this baby? He’s just as beautiful as you.” 

“My son.” 

Silence came again, as her mouth slightly opened and eyes wide in disbelief. Unsure what to even say, “S- so, you’ve married before, then?” she frowned when he kept silent, “Where’s your previous wife?” 

“Passed away.” He said in the usual cold tones, but she knew underneath that  there’s a slight crack and irritation as his gaze now turned to the moonlight. Of course she passed away, or else Poseidon wouldn’t even remarry. However, deep in her heart she knew there’s a small crack discovered he’s used to love a certain woman, and now the baby is the only thing left of that woman. 

“Sorry to hear that,” she continued, “What’s the name of the baby?”  

“Atlas.” 

… 

~the night after the marriage event~ 

It was a cold kiss, but she received it welcomely despite his expressionless face throughout the whole wedding, but it’s okay. “It’s really okay, he’s probably not used to me yet. One day he will!” She patted herself. Emerald eyes sparkled at the whole sea regions and the Greek pantheon of deities and nymphs congratulated them, isn’t this what she’s been dreaming of? Marrying a handsome prince and living happily ever after? 

During night time where everyone has a great time of feast, smiling and chattering. While Poseidon were discussing with his brothers and several gods, Amphitrite was accompanied by Aphrodite and Persephone having tea together as the both of them enjoyed their little chats while she quietly listened. 

“Dear Amphitrite sweetheart, may I ask why you would want to marry Poseidon? It’s clear as day that he’s hard to be swayed by love.” Amphitrie got caught off guard with Aphrodite's question, she rested her chin on her hand thinking the perfect way to explain it. 

“Well, I’m aware that a god like Poseidon is difficult to read and likes to close himself off from everyone. I’m aware too that this is a marriage for political reasons, but time itself is impossible to read too, who knows it’ll take time for him to open up to me, and maybe I can fix him.” 

Aphrodite giggled while pinching her cheek playfully, “Amphitrite, I hope you can keep your words, I’ll give you the best gift if you can win his heart.” 

“Haha, to be honest, I’m used to being scared of him too, but when I saw him holding his son gently in his arm it’s like seeing part of the real him open up. How can I not want to win his heart and show his other good side to me too ?”

“Son?” Persephone gasped and stood in surprise causing everyone to look at them, “What do you mean he has a son?” 

Suddenly, everyone is freezed, tons of eyes now peered at Amphitrtie who was surprised too at everyone’s new discovery. “I- I thought everyone know that he has a child-” 

Suddenly Poseidon touched her shoulder and leaned her closer to him as he announced to everyone, “Yes, I do have a son… with her.”

Everyone including his brothers and her families are elated by the news, congratulating the couple as they continued the feast. However, Amphitrite snapped at Poseidon who’s still avoiding her eye contact, questioning his suspicious act… head feels dizzy as she frowned at the announcement. Suddenly, Zeus wrapped his arm around Poseidon and Amphitrite in joyous, “Congratulations on having a child! So it turns out you guys already did a dirty thing before the marriage, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Congratulations, I anticipate meeting my nephew by tomorrow.” Hades shook his hand while laughing, yet despite the wonderful news, Amphitrite got left confused all alone watching the crowd in line congratulate them, leaving her deep in thought of her mind.

…

“Poseidon, what’s with all of this? I thought everyone knew about your son.” Amphitrite sat on bed facing Poseidon who’s changing his clothes to something more comfortable, once again avoiding eye contact with her. She clenches her fist when he has the nerve to ignore her question, “Not only that, but you LIED to them about him being my son in blood? What about your previous wife? How would she feel about this?”

“Don’t remind me about Y/n, Amphitrite.” 

“Y/n? So that’s her name, huh? Don’t tell me that no one also knew about this Y/n.” 

Another silent response made her more convinced, knowing this, she slowly moved away from him, his unreadable expression made her stomach twist. “Poseidon, why would you lie?”

What are you trying to hide?

“All you need to know is that I did all of this to keep her and Atlas safe from the gods’ eyes. If they ever discover the truth about them, I’ll gouge their eyes and shred their bodies to pieces where their mouth wouldn’t spread all over to other realm,” Amphitrite shiver at his calm tone, she felt her heart skipped a beat at his eyes finally made an eye contact, the eyes that threaten her as if a trident ready to strike her if she made a single mistake, “This include you too Amphitrite, just do your job as a queen and a mother, and I’ll turn a blind eye on you. Remember that this is a marriage that’ll benefit your family.”

… 

“That’s all I know,” Amphitrite steady her breath as she lies her head down, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, “It’s true, ever since that, I wouldn’t dare to ask him about her. I- I don’t- I don’t know why my foolish self is still trying to love him despite his undying love for his previous wife.” 

Tears spilled from her eyes, words unable to be formed as she cover her cry from them. “Why did I even keep pursuing?” She thought, but a sudden heaviness on her caught her off guard, uncovering her face to see Atlas hugging her. 

“It’s ok, mom.” Amphitrite hug him back with more tears spilled, her heart melt knowing Atlas is still calling her mom despite the truth. However, Hades is still standing across from her as he Massages his forehead, still surprised yet angry, but at his foolish brother. 

“Atlas, can you please change your clothes and go have breakfast? Your mother and I still have to discuss about… this…further through.” Atlas nods as he changes his clothes and unlocks the door to go to the dining hall, leaving Amphitrite and Hades alone in his room. 

Hades approach Amphitrite to sit beside her as his hand tap on her shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that… I never thought he would do that.” 

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. As his brother, I shouldn’t have been too lenient on him, he’s just using you for his own benefit.”Amphitrite shake her head, “It’s partly my fault too for not refused it and being naive, I was too scared by my own father,” clearing her throat as she jump to different topic, “But, about her…” 

“Y/n…” Hades humm, “So she’s Atlas' biological mother, why does Poseidon hide her from everyone? Out of shame?”

“Shame?” 

“Poseidon is a pride god, if he loves her that much, what makes him want to hide her in the dark? Have you ever suspected her identity and background?” 

Amphitrite put her hand on the chin as she recalled her moment when she was in the library, however it put a frown on her face, “I have try to search about her in the library, yet no books have had a record about her, so for now I’m assuming that she’s not a goddess from this pantheon nor a nymph.”

“Not even a nymph? How did you come up with that assumption?” 

“From Atlas of course, if Y/n is a nymph from certain creatures, he will have the appearance or characteristic of that creature, however none of it are in him.”

“Fair enough.”

 “How about you? Does the name Y/n sound familiar?” 

“That’s… the problem, it’s new and unfamiliar within this patheon nor any other places, never for eons have I ever heard that name,” Hades massages his head and sighs as the mystery causes a headache to him., sick of his brother’s antics, he stand up, “I will ask him right now, he’s the only one who knows the truth.”

Hearing this, Amphitrite immediately stand and holds his shoulder as she shakes her head, “Don’t! If you ask him he will immediately know I told you and will slaughter me,” she continued after steadied her breath, “Please, I’m not stopping you to research about her, but don’t directly ask him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about this too. He has been hiding this far too long, I’m disappointed at his oddly obsessive behavior-” 

“Hades, your shoes.” Hearing her gasp, he looked down and froze, seeing the crimson blood seeping from under the bed all the way staining his shoes. He kneels, and looks under it to discover the missing part of the statue — the ring finger — feeling the hard rock texture, yet when he touches the bleeding part, he shivers from the soft rotten meat and bone texture. 

“There’s a dead body of a mortal hidden inside a statue, how is it under his bed?” He frown, “Moreover, the ring on that finger-“

“It can’t be, that’s the same pair of rings that Poseidon has.”

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO HAS LOVED YOU SINCE YOU WERE KIDS - HE’S GONNA MAKE YOU HIS ! ❞

✧ series: call it what you want (part one)

✧ pairing: younger!satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and now, in his twenties, when he sees you again after you move back to be closer to your aunt and your cousin, suguru, he knows — he has to make you his by the end of the summer.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, eventual smut, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, gojo is four years younger than you, rich boy!gojo, suguru is your little cousin, very fluffy, slow burn, like they don't even kiss, but they will :), love at first sight for gojo, naoya is your ex,

✧ w/c: 15,285

“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Satoru muttered in your ear, breath fanning hot against your neck, “be a little quieter, sweetheart, otherwise Suguru might hear us,” 

You whine, but his fingers drag against your kiss bitten lips, until the digits slide into your mouth, as his hips rut against yours. And you didn’t think you’d ever be in position with your cousin’s best friend — pressed to the doorway of your apartment where Suguru could walk in at anytime. 

This isn't what you thought would happen when you invited him over to talk. This isn't what you thought would happen when you agreed to pretend to date him. This isn't what you thought about -- but how could you think about anything with the way his breath felt against your skin?

He loved you -- loved you since you were kids, and he couldn't let you go, not like this. Not when he had you.

Not that you even wanted him to.

You didn’t think you’d shiver as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck, tongue flicking against your burning skin. You never thought you’d want to moan his name, like you had, far too many times. 

“You may have never thought about this, Princess, but I sure have,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, the wet sounds your skin slapping together, as he reaches around your body, pinned on your stomach to the mattress, to rub at your swollen clit, drawing a muffled cry from your lips, “far too many times,” 

In fact, Satoru Gojo knew exactly the first time he fell for you. It was the day he first met you. 

“Be my girlfriend!” 

It was less of a question and more of a statement.  

One declared in the doorway of your room, with flushed cheeks and flowers in hand. And they weren’t your cheeks or hands, but your baby cousin’s best friend. 

The first time Satoru Gojo asked you out was at the ripe old age of eleven, but truth be told he had held this crush since the moment he saw you when he had come over to Suguru’s house for the first time, almost three years ago now.

Your fingers brushed his as you gently took the flowers, “Satoru, you know I care about you, but not like that. You’re better off seeing other people your own age, ok?” You smiled at him, the same way you always did, a slight pout on his lips as he nodded, saying nothing more. 

And you knew you were right — there was no fucking question that you were right. He was eleven and you were fifteen — an age gap untenable and unreachable.

But now—

“Long time no see,” Satoru said, lips curled in an all too cocky smile that you couldn’t believe belonged to the same blushing kid who confessed so earnestly back then, “it’s been too long,” your name rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that was the same but all too different. 

But he wasn’t a kid anymore — far from it. It had been over a decade since you had seen him, as the summer he confessed was the last one you had spent at your aunt and uncle’s home. And you and your family moved overseas shortly after that, and you didn’t return until now, four years after you graduated college, for a job offer you couldn’t pass up. 

And you didn’t realize that so much time had passed. 

But he did. 

“Eh? What do you mean you can’t help me unpack today, Sugu?” you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, as you rip open the tape on yet another box you had hauled into the proper room to unpack, “you told me—“ 

“I told you I’d help you unpack if I had time. But now, I’m stuck at work until the evening,” you heard your cousin sigh over the phone, “But don’t worry — you’ll have help—“ 

You’re too busy trying to rip the tape off as you rip into Suguru to notice the door creaking open behind you, “Suguru, I swear to god if you’re sending a total random stranger to help me—“ 

“Not a total stranger,” a voice says behind you, and your head whips around so quick, you nearly drop your phone, gripping it, “unless not seeing me for years makes me one,” 

A mess of white locks and sunglasses tilted downward to reveal a hint of his cerulean eyes that you could never forget — but still, you barely recognize the man that has them. Even if the grin on his lips with the lilting sound of his voice told you that he very much recognized you. 

“Satoru?” Suguru’s explanation falls on deaf ears, as Satoru’s eyes don’t bother to take in your new place, all too focused on you, hands slipping into his pockets, “you—“ 

He steps forward and plucks the phone from your fingers, “Yo Suguru, I told you it’d be better as a surprise,” and you gape at him, as his grin curls wider, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t take the phone to have you lecturing me — I get enough of that from my dad,” and Suguru says something that makes Satoru’s cheeks flush, and he hangs up, before his attention returns to you, “so, shall we unpack?” 

A few minutes turns into hours of hauling boxes inside and then unpacking them. It’s relatively silent, surprisingly for Satoru. The silence was a far cry from the boy who couldn’t shut up for two seconds, telling you about the test he aced or something stupid that one of his classmates said or asking you about your day. 

Instead you watch him haul boxes like they were filled with styrofoam and air from the truck outside, and then lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, a flash of his abs shiny with perspiration. Your eyes dart away, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the contents of this box of kitchenware you opened up, cheeks burning, wondering when did the little boy you looked after become a man? 

“Princess, where do you want this?” Satoru lifts a box, and you can’t see the writing on it from the angle he picks it up. 

“Do you still have to call me Princess?” The embarrassing nickname your aunt had given you still stuck — the one that Suguru would always tease you with, while Satoru’s decidedly lacked any malice, “my aunt only called me that because she wanted a girl so bad,” 

“Is that why Suguru is growing out his hair now? Trying to fulfill her dreams?” You snort, as you walk over to him, “it still fits you regardless of the reason Princess,” 

You’re close, even with the box providing glancing around the box until you find it scrawled on the box underneath his arm — his very…muscular arm, veins bulging and muscles tense underneath the weight of the box—

“So this is stuff for my bedroom, you can just leave it on the floor, it’s right over here,” you lead him over and he places down the box, “I think that’s mostly it, I’m sorry Suguru made you come down here to help,” 

“You don’t need to apologize, I wanted to see you,” and you smile softly, “it’s been too long,” 

“It really has,” and your neck strains a little with how he towered over you, “can't believe you’re the same little boy I used to babysit,” 

And he rolls his eyes, “Suguru would say it’s arguable I could still use a babysitter,” and you chuckle, “I’m not so little anymore, but I wouldn’t mind if you were my babysitter,” 

Was he? No. No, he wasn’t. 

Right? 

“Stop fucking around,” you shake your head, as you head into the kitchen, “do you want to wash up, and then maybe I’ll order take out to thank you?” You’re turning on the faucet. 

You don’t notice the slight pout on his lips, one he schools into a smile as you glance back at him, blinking as you find him shirtless. 

Fuck. How was it possible for a person to be this gorgeous? Sweat slid down his body, slipping between the dips of his chest and ridges of his abs until disappearing into the fabric of his pants, or somewhere hidden— 

You look away — “I’d rather take a shower. Do you mind?” And you force your voice not to come out a squeak, busying yourself with washing your hands, just so you don’t have to look. 

“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is just around the corner. There should already be fresh towels inside,” and yet his steps grow closer, as you glance back, “uh—“ 

He’s still fucking shirtless. 

“Instead of take out, can we grab dinner somewhere? You haven’t been back to the area recently so it’s a good chance to show you around,” 

“You really don’t have to—“ 

“I want to, Princess,” he cuts you off, reaching around you to grab a water bottle off the counter, “get ready while I clean up?” 

And you bite your lip, “Okay, okay,” and he grins back, a glimpse of the little boy that beams at you when you’d praise him for a high mark on a test. 

“It’s a date!” And he’s off, disappearing into the bathroom, and you’re left there, wondering — what had you gotten yourself into? 

~~~

“So,” Satoru lifts a spoonful of his dessert — a fruit parfait with a sugar coma inducing amount of whipped cream — and you were almost relieved to see some things about him hadn’t changed. How many times had you scolded him as a kid not to eat so much sugar — and he still hasn’t kicked the habit. You bit back your chuckle, as he spoke, “did you get dumped?” 

You almost choke on your drink, as you splutter for a moment, before glaring at him. 

And yet the more they stayed the same. 

“I see you’re as subtle as you were when you were 11,” you mutter, setting your drink down, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. Satoru tilts his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“So you dumped him?” He leans back, “I didn’t know you had such high standards,” your cheeks burn, distracting yourself with becoming enthralled in the menu — Satoru had dragged you to a hole in the wall barbecue place (after your insistence that you didn’t want anything fancy after unpacking for hours). 

“How did you know I broke—“ and you cut yourself off at the obviousness of the answer, slapping another piece of meat on the grill, the sizzle punctuated by your words, “I’m going to murder him,” 

“Well, you’re in the right place to dispose of his body,” Satoru licks the spoon clean, before sticking it back in the whipped cream, “why did you break up with him?” 

You shrugged, “I realized he was a narcissistic prick who only wanted me as a trophy,” and Satoru whistled lowly,  “I’m done with dating losers. And dating in general,” 

“I don’t think you should give up on dating just because you had a few bad experiences,” his voice grows soft, “you deserve to be happy and taken care of, even if you have bad taste,” 

And you pout, “I don’t have-“ and he tilts his head, and you lift a few pieces of meat from the grill onto your plate, tongs clattering slightly as you set it down, “fuck, I do,” you groan, shaking your head, “that’s why I had to get out of there. Just needed a fresh start you know?” 

“Sometimes that’s just what you need,” and your lips curl. 

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and his eyes flit up to yours, gleaming in the low light of the restaurant, cerulean irises catching the drops of light like comets across his gaze. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Princess,” he busies himself with his parfait, and you scoff. 

“Come on, half the girls in this place are glaring at me while I sit here, the waitress has been flirting with you, and now they had brought you out the biggest dessert that I’m starting to wonder if they even serve it here,” he spares a glance around, several gasps from giggling girls who avert their gazes, before his eyes are back on you. 

“Jealous?” You roll your eyes — he wasn’t lacking for ego at least. 

“More like wondering what a guy like you is still doing single,” and he sighs, leaning back, with a tilt of his head. 

“You sure are curious about me,” and his gaze softens for a moment, while he picks at his dessert, scooping the strawberry off the top, “there’s only really been one person that I really wanted,” his tone grew more serious, lips in a bittersweet smile, “but she’s never really looked me like that,” 

“Don’t tell me it’s one of those things where she rejected you and you have to have her now,” and he chuckles, shaking his head, gaze far too wistful. 

His words are slow, as slow as the ice melting in your glass, “It’s more of if I don’t have her, I don’t want anyone else,” and your heart squeezed — would you ever have someone care so deeply for you? 

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” you picked up another piece of meat off the grill, “anyone would be lucky to be with you,” and you meant it — he was blunt, but also kind, sweet, not to mention rich and you flushed as you thought back to his hiked up shirt — good looking. 

But he only stares back at you, tilting his head — expression unreadable, an emotion you can’t grasp before it’s hidden under his gaze’s tempered waters, “Are you included, Princess?” 

There’s a pause, as you almost chuckle, but your laugh dying in your throat at his expression — that same smirk, but the way he looks at you stops your mind in its tracks — only one word rolling around in your head: what? 

And your brow furrows, your lips parting in a response you don’t have — only questions, ones you don’t get to ask as Suguru slides in beside you. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” Suguru sighs, the moment broken, and you don’t catch Satoru’s expression, too distracted by your cousin, “got stuck in a staff meeting,” 

“I told you academia is hell,” you elbow him, and Suguru rolls his eyes, as he shrugs off his suit coat, “were these meetings the reasons you got held up or are they just an excuse so you didn’t have to help me?” 

“Who said it can’t be both?” And he earns a smack to his shoulder, your attention turning back to Satoru, his gaze fixed outside. 

“You’re unusually quiet, Satoru” Suguru kicks him lightly under the table, “not like you,” 

He looks at you first — and you grasp the emotion he had hid before — what was it? Sadness? Longing? — right before it’s gone again as he slides his mask back on, grinning as he always does. 

“What can I say? The view outside is much better than your ugly mug,” and the two of them begin to bicker, and you lean back in your seat, a smile pulling at your lips, even as you glanced back at Satoru. 

And now you wondered if you would ever get an answer to your questions. Or maybe, you sipped your drink, it was better not to have it answered at all. 

~~~

Satoru Gojo was eleven years old when he fell in love with you. It was from the moment he met you. 

And there hasn’t been anyone else since. 

He supposed it was inevitable in a way — since Suguru was his best friend, and his first, and when his family finally decided to enroll him in school, instead opting for private tutors, for the social aspect of making connections, of course. Because what else was your eleven year old son good for then helping to make future business deals easier? 

But Satoru made friends with the one person who couldn’t help their deals — Suguru Geto, one of the only scholarship students in the entire school. And Satoru’s want to avoid spending his days with servants or on the rare occasion, dealing with his dad’s lecture for getting in another ‘disagreement’ with one of his classmates (that ended with that classmate crying after Satoru evaded his punch and kicked him in the shin), ended up with him at Suguru’s place. A lot. 

Then soon enough, he was spending most of his summers there too. And that’s when he saw you. 

“You said your cousin’s here? Is she nice?” Satoru asked, taking off his shoes, as Suguru shut the door behind them. 

“She is, except when she’s being a pain about homework. And when she gets mad, she reminds me of my mom,” Suguru grimaced, as he walked past him, calling out for you. You rounded the corner, book in hand, and Satoru’s eyes grew wide. 

“Hey Sugu, you brought a friend?” You walked over, still clad in your high school uniform, before introducing yourself, and offering him a warm smile, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Suguru’s cousin,” 

Satoru didn’t know what this feeling was — and he wouldn’t until a few more summers passed, and his hormones kicked in — but all he knew was that he would do anything to see you smile like that at him again. And he did — he would spend as much time as he could with you — talking to you about a test he aced, about something funny that happened at school, or even ratting on Suguru about what he was up to (earning him many knocks to the head by his best friend). But every time you smiled or laughed, it was worth it — worth every second he spent counting down the time to summer break so he could see you again. 

But he didn’t know his seconds would run out so soon — and he only learned one random day going home with Suguru, from a snippet of a conversation he had with his mom. 

“I know, I know she’s coming next week,” Satoru’s interest hadn’t been peaked by Suguru’s conversation until then, because he knew exactly who they were talking about. After all, you always came right at the start of break, and finally he could see you again — and maybe this time, he could tell you how he felt. 

“I know, I know it’s her last time here so it has to be perfect,” and Satoru’s head snapped back to Suguru, last time? “I will,” and Suguru hangs up, a sigh on his lips, “my mom is being so annoying about my cousin. So what it’s her last time staying with us? It doesn’t mean we have to—“ 

“What do you mean it’s her last time?” Satoru kept his tone steady and slow, even as his heart thrummed against his ribs as if it was a xylophone, “she always comes every summer—“ 

“Of high school,” Suguru corrected him, “she is applying to university this year — most of them are abroad, and it seems likely she won’t be back in Japan, not for a while,” Suguru continued to complain on their way back to his place, but all Satoru could do was think about you. 

It was your last summer with him. His last chance to make a move, to be something more than your younger cousin’s friend. His last chance to make you see him as a man, not a kid. 

He had to confess, his fingers curled into fists, before the end of the summer. He would make you his girlfriend — one way or another. 

And he did confess back then, Satoru thought, as he picked up a photo, wrinkled and yellowed at the corners, a picture that Suguru’s mom had taken of you and him the summer you had left. A candid of him and you looking at each other — one that Suguru’s mom had slipped to him with a knowing smile and a wink (one that had mortified him as a teenager). 

He was always looking at you — no matter where he was, his eyes always found your form, a magnet to its opposite pole, and he didn’t know how to stop you from drawing him in. It had been over a decade and he still couldn’t. 

He stared at your smiling face, the very same face that had looked at you with a smile fading to confusion this evening. He had gotten so close to asking you — to telling you how he felt — and he flips to the next picture, a scowl on his face as a picture of him and Suguru with his smug smile stared back at him. If only fucking Suguru hadn’t interrupted. 

He shook his head, flipping back to his picture of you. This wasn’t the summer and he wasn’t a kid anymore. And you weren’t out of his reach, bound for another country across the ocean. No, you were here — only a short drive away. 

And he made a promise to himself — he would get you to fall in love with him, before the end of this summer. 

~~~

You hate first days. 

“Did you see the guy waiting outside?” one woman whispered not so softly as you passed by. 

“Yeah looks like he’s waiting for her,” the other’s lips formed a frown but only to hide her smirk. 

From the time you were a kid, your first day of school was something you had all the time from your family moving around. You were always the new kid — the one who would be met with wide eyes and curiosity, only to be tossed aside a few days later. 

But this was a fresh start that you had wanted — a new job far away from where you had started, with new responsibilities — a first day you had looked forward to, until it went so downhill. 

And it was all your ex’s fault. 

You texted Suguru — is it too early to quit on the first day? 

He replies, well it’s been four hours, think you’ve lasted through one of my dad’s long winded stories longer than that. What happened? 

You glanced outside towards the front of the building. It was more like ‘who happened?’ 

It was an innocuous enough morning, of introductions, trainings, orientation, and finally computer set up. You were rifling through your paperwork, trying to figure out what sheet looked the least daunting when someone called for you. 

“There’s someone looking for you outside the lobby,” you saw a flurry of looks shared and smirks shot in your direction, and when you arrived downstairs you knew why. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You couldn’t help it. You bursted outside, “what are you doing here?” It was your ex — the very same ex who had started at the same overseas company after you both graduated and the one you had. And again, had chosen to follow you here. 

“Waiting for you to change yer mind,” Naoya tilts his head, hands in his pocket, “and I know you will, because you love me,” he raises his voice to catch the eye of several passerby, and you grab his wrist, dragging him away. 

“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath, “I told you it’s over, and don’t you have a fucking job?” 

“Did you forget? I’m rich, another reason ya can’t do better than me,” Naoya’s lips curl into that same grin, one you knew as charming once, until you saw past his pretty pink lips and glimpsed the sharp fangs behind them, “I took time off. Did ya think it was a coincidence we ended up at the same company?” 

You gritted your teeth, “Naoya—“ and he breaks from your grip, instead his fingers dig into your wrist. 

“All ya are is me. All that you have is me. And all you will have is me,” he dared closer, breath warming your lips, as he took hold of your other wrist and tugged you close, “the sooner you accept that, the better, doll,” 

‘Doll.’ The term of endearment you had seen as precious to you. Something you always loved to hear roll off his tongue, the word you had learned to learned to reply to, even more than your own name. The one you regarded with such love had burned, burned until the flames licked your skin and knew what it really meant — a doll with strings, one he was meant to be the master of. 

“Don’t call me that,” you rip your hands away, “leave. You’re embarrassing yourself,” 

“Am I?” He tilts his head, jerking his head in the direction of your building where your offices had a clear view of this, “or am I just embarrassing you?” 

You stared out the window for a moment and you knew he was still out there — judging but the way your phone was on the verge of suicide by notification, he was still very much there. And now, all people would know of you is the new worker with a crazy stalker ex. 

I’m calling the police, Suguru’s text popped up, what’s your workplace’s address? 

You think I hadn’t thought of that, Sugu? You sigh, he’s not doing anything. He’s on a public sidewalk. They can’t do anything to him. 

Another text: when do you get out? You glance at the time, seeing another two coworkers whisper to each other, stealing looks. 

An eternity — In another two hours. 

I’ll handle it. Just wait in the lobby after work. And you frown. 

Sugu, I can handle it. I don’t need you to come down here. 

You always fought your battles. You didn’t need anything else to — or anyone else to pick them for you. Not even your baby cousin — no matter how sweet his intentions were. 

Don’t worry. I’m not coming down. And you frown, staring at the text, before your phone rings, and you groan as ‘Assistant Director’ flashes on the screen.  

You were so fired. 

You weren’t — as you shut the door of his office behind you. However, he did advise you that this company had a strict no nonsense policy and did want personal drama to be dredged up in the office. And you were given the day to sort out your “mess.” 

You scrub a hand down your face, but it wasn’t even your mess, and how would you fix it? He wasn’t going to listen to you. You sit at your desk, packing up your bag for the day. And your phone vibrates. 

Come down. 

You hesitate, But he’s still downstairs. 

Just go. 

Fuck. You sling your bag over your shoulder, piercing eyes digging into your back, vultures circling an already dead carcass, whispering still even as the elevators doors shut. 

And you almost wish they never opened when you see what’s waiting for you outside. 

Fuck. 

You grit your teeth, stomach in absolute knots as if to brace yourself for the complete shitstorm you’re about to deal with. 

“Satoru?” 

Satoru Gojo leaned back against his expensive (likely imported) car, shiny as it was new, sunglasses glinting in the light, but not brighter than the grin he gives you. He holds out your favorite drink, a tilt of his head. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

You glance around, as he places the drink in your hand, “But what about—“

“Let go of me!” 

Satoru’s lips curl, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Oh, I’ve gotten him handled,” 

Naoya stood between two men restraining him, both in suits, as his face contorted in anger, veins bulging, eyes darting between the two of you, “Do you know who I am? I’m the heir to the Zenin Corporation — you cannot treat me like this. I’ll have you—“ 

“Heir? Really?” Satoru stepped forward, blocking him from your view, “is that right? I thought the Zenin hadn’t decided announced a successor yet,” 

You furrow your brow — how does Satoru— but then you’re being put into a car with Satoru’s arm curled around your waist, as he opens the door and tucks you into the passenger seat. 

And now you won’t know. At least not now. 

Naoya scoffed, “And who are you to know anything about—“ 

“Have you heard of the Six Eyes Corp,” and Naoya’s eyes narrow, “you should have because we account for a large chunk of your business. And if that support were to disappear,” he flashes his blue eyes at him over the rim of his sunglasses, “I’d hate to tell them it’s because of this,” 

“You fucking liar, like you could tell anyone anything—“ 

Satoru chuckles, “You’re right, I am a liar,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I don’t need to tell anyone. Except my father,” 

Naoya’s sneer fades into confusion, his eyes narrowed, “Don’t fucking tell me—” 

“Then I won’t,” he steps forward, hands slipping into his pockets, “but if you ever step in her presence again,” he jerks his head towards you in his car, “then I will, and you don’t wanna know what happens if I do,” he steps in front of Naoya, back blocking your view so you don’t see him grab Naoya’s wrist, blue eyes aflame with something far deeper than anger, “because it will much worse,” he squeezes Naoya’s wrist hard making him flinch as he grits his teeth at Satoru’s smiling face, “who knows? Maybe I’ll break your wrist next time.” 

He turns around, waving off the guards, as he makes his way back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat, smile fading to concern. 

“Are you alright, Princess?” You’re watching those people drag Naoya away, his hateful gaze trying and failing to get a last look at you as the guard takes a hand to the back of his head to force his gaze forward. 

“Where are they taking him?” 

Satoru starts the car, the quiet rumble of the engine filling the silence of his pause, “just to the proper authorities. He won’t bother you again,” 

You bit your bottom lip, eyes burning with tears — and you don’t know whether if it’s embarrassment or relief, “I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” and your eyes slide to his, a soft smile on his lips, “you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Or to thank me for,” he cuts you off as your lips part, “is your wrist okay?” 

You glance down and see the slight redness still lingered, a final parting gift, and your other hand closes over the wrist, “it hurts a little, but I’ll ice it when I get home,” 

“We’ll go to a hospital to have it looked at,” and you’re shaking your head. 

“I don’t want to sit—“ 

“Then I’ll hire a doctor to come see you,” and you stare at him, as he rolls to a stop at a red light…is that a pout? “I just want you to be ok, Princess, please,” 

You bite back a small smile, and ignore the flutter in your heart, “Fine, you win, let’s go to a walk-in clinic,” and you spot his shoulders relax, “but it’s not really fair when you give me your infamous pout,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “‘Infamous?’” 

“You used to whip that out all the time on me and on my aunt when you were a kid — it did always work,” 

“Not always,” he replies, as he turns into the parking for the walk-in clinic, “in fact, I remember a time that it specifically did not work,” 

“And when was that?” You tilt your head. 

And he smiles, “When I asked you to be my girlfriend,” and you furrow your brow, nearly forgetting the memory, until it hits you. 

“Oh my god, the last summer I spent here,” you covered your mouth with the tips of your fingers, a chuckle on your lips, “you were very direct,” 

“I could say the same about you,” and you roll your eyes. 

“You were a kid. You were way too young for me, you know that,” you unbuckle your seatbelt, “plus now I bet you could get any person you want. That’s why I was surprised why you didn’t have a girlfriend,”

“Like I said, there’s only one woman in the world for me,” his eyes find yours, cerulean bathed in sunlight, light catching across his irises, “and only one woman I ever wanted to be with,”

Oh. 

Oh. 

No, no, that couldn’t be it — you couldn’t be her, not after all this time—

You blink, “Satoru, you don’t—“ 

“Well our age difference isn’t a problem anymore is it?” Your brain is struggling to process, lips parting with no words, “Princess,” his fingers brush yours, gently grazing your hand, as your gaze finds his again, “when are you going to take me seriously?” 

“Satoru—“ 

“Just don’t say no,” Satoru cuts you off, pulling his hand away, “don’t say no and think about it,” you open your mouth only to waver at the sight of the pout on his lips and you sigh. 

It was hard to say no, especially right now. 

“Okay I won’t say no,” you slip from the car, lips breaking into a wide grin, before sticking your head inside, “don’t smile like that. It’s not a yes,” you huff, cheeks burning and stomach erupting in butterflies. 

“Not yet,” Satoru says as you shut the door, “not yet, Princess.” 

~~~

“Huh? You did what?” 

You loved your aunt. You really did. She and her husband had taken you in when your parents were too busy working to properly take care of you during the summers. But times like this reminded you—

—-she truly was her mother’s sister. 

“Well your mother was telling me that you haven’t dated anyone since you’ve been back—“ 

“It's only been a month!” You had barely finished getting unpacked, and in fact, you still had at least five boxes still stacked up in the closet, “I’m not interested in dating, I’m trying to focus on work,” you rubbed the back of your head, “new topic, please,” as you sip on your drink. 

And after the debacle Naoya had caused, you needed to — you had put up with the whispers and stares for a few days, but since Naoya had stayed away, the rumors faded with time. Now things had died down for the most part. Except for—

“Has Satoru still been picking you up?” You nearly do a spit take, but instead you choke down the water, coughing, “eh? Are you okay, honey?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” your cheeks burn at the thought of Satoru — he was always a bold kid, but you didn’t think he’d confess to being in love with you all this time. Especially now as a man — and not a kid, “yeah he’s still picking me up,” 

When he had confessed to you all those years ago as a young teenager, you had thought nothing of it. Except that it was a crush on his best friend’s older cousin — something that would pass easily with time. You hadn’t even thought of it in all these years. 

But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Especially when he kept showing up to pick you up from work. And now you were stirring other sorts of rumors. 

After he had taken you to the walk-in clinic, he had driven you home, making sure to check if your place was secure enough, and that you weren’t too shaken up. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off to Suguru’s?” he had asked, crossing his arms, “I could also drag his ass here, he owes me anyway,” 

“No, no I’m really fine,” you chewed your lip, looking down, “you sure he’s not going to come back?” and he leans down, forcing you to meet his gaze, as he tilts his head. 

“Sweetheart, you think I’d even leave your place if I thought there was a chance of him coming back?” he offers you a smile, and you scoff softly, shaking your head, “trust me, he won’t be bothering you again, not while I’m around,” and he added, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 

And you didn’t know what to do with the promise in his words. Because you knew he meant that — in more than one way. 

But even so, he hadn’t brought up his confession — not once. 

“He’s so sweet isn’t he? Suguru is always so busy but Satoru’s making time to pick you instead,” your aunt gushes, and you shake your head, your aunt did have a habit of being a little hard on her son, “by the way, would you mind stopping by the house today?” 

“Why’s that?” 

And well, how did you end up here? 

You stood in front of the entrance to a very expensive looking building with a very intimidating doorman, with a large tote bag full of food that your aunt had insisted you drop off. She had given you his address, but by the time you arrived, you realized that you didn’t even have his number. And now Suguru or your aunt weren’t picking up their phones. 

Fuck. 

You were internally debating whether to talk to the doorman or to just go home and deal with this another time, when you heard someone speak behind you. 

“Looking for someone?” You jump slightly, whirling when you see Satoru, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he lifts his sunglasses to meet your gaze, “didn’t think I’d find you hanging outside my apartment building, princess,” 

“Well, you show up outside my workplace and I’ll be showing up outside your apartment building,” the words leave your mouth without much thought, as your cheeks burn at the implication, “I mean—” 

“Is that supposed to discourage me from picking you up?” he grins, “Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” 

You roll your eyes, before holding up the bag, “My aunt asked me to drop off some dishes for you. She’s worried you’re eating too many sweets,” 

He takes the bag from your hand, fingers brushing, as he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have ever told her that I had cake for dinner,” and you snort, unable to hide your giggles, “what’s so funny?” 

“I can see a lot about you has changed, but your sweet tooth is just as bad as when you were a kid,” and you see him scratch the back of his head, “is your favorite dessert still mochi?” 

“You still remember that about me?” A smile pulling at his lips, and your cheeks burn, but you refuse to waver. 

“Well, it’s hard to forget you threw up all over the rug when you ate too many,” You bite back a smile when you spot the tips of his ears burn red, as he gapes at you. 

“Did you have to bring that up?” He mutters, a small pout on his lips, and you snort, as he can’t help the curl of his lips, “now, c’mon,” his fingers brush the small of your back. 

“Satoru, where—“ but his hand is firm as he guides you towards his building. 

He flashes you a grin as he signs you in with the doorman, “Do you think I’d let you come all this way without staying for dinner?” 

~~~

“Do you want anything to drink?” Satoru’s penthouse was nothing less than immaculate — high ceilings, pristine floors, and an interior designed living space. You swore in some places it was still shiny — and you felt very out of place in your casual wear for the weekend. 

“Just a water,” you reply, as he opens his refrigerator and you raise an eyebrow at the fully stocked compartments, “wow,” you murmur, and he’s pulling a water and a fancy looking juice out of it. 

“What was that?” He raises a brow, and you stammer a moment, “c’mon princess, share with the class,” 

“Just surprised your refrigerator isn’t just stuffed with just desserts, sweets, and ice cream,” and he hands you your water, before sitting beside you, spread out on the couch, as he always was. 

“Oh it is, it’s just very well hidden,” and you snort, as he throws his arm over the back of the couch, “I may be an adult but I’m not going to be a boring old geezer like my father,” 

“I don’t think I could ever see you becoming boring, Satoru,” you chuckle, and he tilts his head. 

“Is that a rare compliment from you, princess?” And his grin only makes your cheeks warm, as you roll your eyes.

“More like an observation,” you reply, as your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to check — who would be messaging you now? 

Oh fuck. 

“You ok there?” 

No, no you weren’t. Because your lovely aunt had given your number to a prospective match, and now he was texting you. A lot. 

“It’s nothing,” you sigh, shaking your head, putting your phone on ‘do not disturb.” You would have dinner first, and then you’d murder your aunt after dessert, “do you want me to help take out dinner?” 

“You expect me to believe you don’t hire a chef to make these sides?” The food was spread out across the table, many of the dishes your aunt had made plated and presented, but along with sides that Satoru had made, “Suguru had made it seem as if the only thing you ever made was microwave ramen,” 

“Well jokes on him, I burned it the one time I tried,” he grinned, “but I did learn to cook, I just never bothered to cook for Suguru,” 

“And why’s that?” You take a bite of the pickled radish he had prepared. 

“Because I’m not trying to impress him, am I?” And you nearly choke slightly, as you manage to swallow, “you should know I’m so much more than a pretty face, Princess,” 

You sigh, “Satoru—“

“Have you thought about what I said at all?” 

And you had. A lot more than you cared to admit. Especially after all he had done. Everything he had to Naoya to defend you. And just about him — how sweet he’s been, how protective, how kind, and how you’d like nothing more than to do the same for him—

But…

“I have, but Satoru, our ages—“ 

“We’re both adults. We both graduated. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade,” his leg brushes yours as he shifts closer, “are you telling me you don’t feel anything?” 

You didn’t know how to answer that — not when you didn’t really know yourself. And you always knew the answer — you knew you wanted to study abroad, you knew you had to leave Naoya’s company, and you knew you wanted to live here — so why was this the one time you didn’t? And why was he the one thing you were unsure of? 

You bite your bottom lip, “But, Suguru—“ and he scoffs softly. 

“Are you really thinking about Suguru right now?” he asks, “or would you rather date the guy blowing up your phone earlier?” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “How did you know—“ 

“Well I know it’s not Naoya, and I heard from Suguru that your aunt wanted to set you up,” fucking Suguru—and your lips twist into a pout, he tilts his head, not bothering to hide his smile, “if you dated me, you could get your aunt off your back,” he muses, leaning against his elbow, “she always did say I was family, and I’m not looking to be your brother,” 

Your cheeks burn at his words, “Satoru,”

“Think about it, Princess, you don’t have to give me an answer now,” but his eyes flicker to your phone, “but I know you’ll find me once you meet any one of these guys your aunt sets you up with,” 

You grimace at your phone, picking it up to see the messages from the guy your aunt had given your number to, “fuck,” you murmur, locking your phone before tossing it away, an image of you trapped at a dinner across the most boring man alive. And then you glance up at Satoru, still a smug smile on his lips, and then back to your phone. 

“What’s your plan?” 

~~~

“So, I heard you turned down the boy I gave your number to,” 

Your aunt hardly pulled punches. 

She never did when you and Suguru were growing up — she always knew what the two of you got up to, even if you were both sure she could never find out — she always did. Even the one time that the two of you had snuck out to get ramen on a late night, Suguru’s parents were in a dead sleep — but by the time you both snuck back in, she was waiting for both of you in the hallway. But this time, she wasn’t even leading with a wind-up before swinging. 

And then she adds, eyes narrowing, “He said you declined because you’re dating someone,” 

She was going for the kill. 

She turns to grab the whistling tea kettle, turning it off, before pouring the hot water into two cups. You force yourself not to bite your bottom lip, the smallest tell was dangerous, even with her back turned, “Is there anything he didn’t tell you?” She’s placing the tea cups one by one on the tray, as if laying out her pieces on a board only to corner you. 

Your aunt frowns, “His mother told me,” great, even better — he was a momma’s boy, and now you were starting to wonder just how many bullets did you dodge,  “are you seeing someone?” 

You were beginning to regret this plan — and you don’t know why you let Satoru talk you into it. 

“You want me to do what?” You stared at Satoru as if he had suggested going diving with sharks, which is not far from what he was suggesting, “tell my aunt that we’re together. No way,” 

“Aw, am I that embarrassing to date, Princess?” And you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, for me,” and he’s tilting his head, “my aunt will immediately tell my uncle and Suguru — and I don’t know which one of them would kill you first,” your uncle wasn’t one for words or conflict, but he had a soft spot for you — and a fist for anyone that tried to come date you without his approval. 

“Eh? Doesn’t Uncle like me?” And you snort, the one sided conversations that Satoru had with your uncle that usually ended with your uncle excusing himself to get away from that “annoying moron.” 

“He doesn’t hate you but,” you choose your words carefully, “he doesn’t prefer you,” 

Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms, “Well Auntie loves me, and I had a plan for this,” and she did, she had quite the soft spot for Satoru, ever since he was a kid. You couldn’t exactly blame her — he looked like an angel, even if the words that left his mouth made it seem like the contrary, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair, “and soon I’ll make you love me too,” 

Fucking cocky bastard, you thought to yourself, cheeks burning at the thought of the smirk on his lips, but you’re jarred back to reality as you hear the clattering of cups and spoons.  

“I am,” you reply, and your aunt’s head whips around, the clinking of the glasses cutting through the pause, “it’s new,” you add, as she sets down the tea cups, placing the tea dispensers in each one, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” 

“Why wouldn’t you? This is wonderful,” she blinked, and her brow wrinkles, “unless it’s that Naoya—“ you flinch at the thought of him. 

“No, I’m done with him,” you wave her off quickly, wrinkling your nose at the thought of that bastard, grabbing the tea cup, the scent of green tea wafting from the steam that warmed your face, as you blew air to cool it off, “it’s someone I reconnected with here,” 

Your aunt raises an eyebrow, “So soon? Is it someone from work?” Again, is the word she implies with the sentence, a sharp tone that nicked your armor. 

“No, it isn’t,” and she’s sipping her tea, and you take a sip only to burn your tongue, “but he is younger,” 

“That’s not a problem if he’s not too much younger — how old is he?” and this was exactly why you hadn’t wanted to tell your aunt, it was more of an interrogation than a conversation. 

“He’s about Suguru’s age,” and she’s tilting her head, “Suguru introduced us,” and that wasn’t a lie — it was true — both in the past and now. 

“Really? And Sugu is okay with you dating his friend?” Your aunt may be gossip and a meddler, but she wasn’t a fool, your hesitation is your end, “and I assume you’re telling me all this to get me off your case and to ask not to tell Suguru,” she sighs. 

“Auntie—“ 

“You know I don’t like lying for either of you—“ 

“But—“ 

“No, I can’t—“ 

“How about lying for me?” Satoru stands in the doorway, head tilted, a smile on his lips. And your aunt blinks before she slowly puts the puzzle pieces together, a mix of emotions crossing her expression — confusion, disbelief, and maybe a hint of joy, before she settled on a neutral 

“Satoru—“ 

He frowns, “Auntie, you know Suguru will kill me for dating his cousin, please,” and then he does what he does best — pouting. 

And your aunt breaks — with a one hit-KO. 

“You must have been blessed by some needlessly annoying god,” you murmur as he walks you back to your place, sun gleaming as it gave off its last rays of light before setting for the night,  “because I don’t know how you still get her to fall for that,” 

“I was born blessed,” and you snort, as you catch sight of his smile out of the corner of your eye, “and speaking of which, when’s our first date?” 

“Straight to the point, huh?” You stop walking, hands in your pockets, “Satoru—“ 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to launch into another speech about how you can’t date me,” he gives an exaggerated sigh, “I could go back to your aunt and tell her how you broke my heart and let her pull out list of aunties who have sons who are excited to meet you—“ 

“Alright, fine, a date, but one thing first,” you step close to him, making his breath catch, pretty blues finding your gaze, the very same he would love to get lost in, before they flicker down to your lips. And he swears you can probably hear his heart beating out of his chest, thumping at the bony bars of his ribcage, and he hates it, hates how you have him twisted around your finger without trying, “Princess—“ 

You reach for him, fingers nearly about to brush his cheek, his eyes fluttering, before you flick his forehead, “ow!” 

“I was just going to ask when our first date is going to be, but if you rather I go on a bunch of blind dates—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing his forehead all the same, “then do you have any ideas?” 

He grins, “Plenty, but there’s one in particular.” 

~~~~

“An amusement park?” 

He sat next to you, driving, hand on the console and you couldn’t help but brush your arm against his each time you moved — and you felt as if he did it on purpose. 

He raises an eyebrow, stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, “Uh-huh, got a problem, Princess?” 

“No I’m just surprised, we went to plenty of these as kids,” you glanced at him, his eyes concentrated on the road, fingers curling a little tighter around the steering wheel. 

You had raised an eyebrow at his choice, but now that you were here…it wasn’t a bad pick. 

You hadn’t been to one in years — not since your summers with Suguru. The screams in the distance told you there was a rollercoaster not far off, the syrupy sweetness of sugar somehow emanated from every inch of air, and the park was filled to the brim with families and couples. 

You glance at Satoru, a plain t-shirt and shorts, and somehow he still looked as if he stepped off a page of a men’s style magazine. He looked around, his eyes landing on a vendor selling cotton candy, and you hid your chuckle. 

“C’mon,” you took his hand, leading him over without a second thought, and you’re grabbing a giant cotton candy for him, made into a flower by the vendor. Satoru’s practically vibrating with excitement, slinking his hand around to sneak the vendor money before you even had a chance, “I wanted to pay—“ 

“You think I’d make my date pay?” He takes a bite out of his cotton candy, sugar sticking to his lips even as he nearly inhales a petal, “even the arranged set ups should do that much,” but it’s hard to take him seriously with blue sugar all over his mouth, “what?” 

You snort, grabbing a wet nap from your purse,“Well, you’d be surprised,” and you wipe his face, fingers cupping his chin, “some guys are a little immature,” and he stares back, and you swear you see a flush settle over his cheeks, before he turns away to wipe his lips. 

“Not me,” he mumbles, tips of his ears burning red, and you bite your bottom lip, cute. 

“Should we find a ride to go on?” he immediately grins at that, offering his arm this time, and you take it, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. 

~~~

Oh you were wrong. 

So wrong. 

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to get on,” and before you can leave a hand catches you by the wrist gently, blue eyes judging over his rimless sunglasses, “Satoru—“ 

“It’s just a rollercoaster,” just a rollercoaster? No, it was literally your death. You stared up at the contraption above you, the echoing screams growing louder as the line crept forward — akin to a rickety boat that Charon would wade you across into hell itself. 

“No, I can’t—“ you shake your head. 

“C’mon it won’t be that bad—“ 

“So you admit it’s going to be bad,” and he’s biting back a smile, “what?” 

“I just never really saw you being scared of anything, Princess,” he sighed loudly, “I guess I’ll have to ride it all alone,” but that only serves to make many women (and men) stare at him as if to offer him their company. 

“You have options,” and he shakes his head, his hand outstretched as the two of you enter the final stretch of the line. 

“Like I said, sweetheart, there’s only ever been one option for me,” and your fingers graze his with several second thoughts, but when his fingers laced with yours, you knew there was no turning back. 

“I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” 

You grinned at a shaken up Satoru, throat probably raw and aching as he frowns, face turned away, “I’m not used to the speed, unlike you, from how I heard you drive,” and you bite back a laugh, as he fails to hide his flush from you, his ears burning red. 

Your chuckle is a badly disguised cough, “Are you pretending to be this way to make me feel better?” You tease, and he’s crossing his arms. 

“No way I’d let myself look so lame in front of you, I’m no better than Ijichi,” and you raise an eyebrow. Ijichi was a boy in Suguru and Satoru’s class when they were kids — one that Satoru loved to complain about being slow. 

“You still think about him?”

“He’s my assistant,” and you snort at the thought of Satoru still hassling that poor guy. 

“I hope you pay him well,” he’s officially pouting again.

“I didn’t know it would be that intense!” you tilt your head, as the two of you find a corner of the park that’s not so crowded and riddled with children running amok, and you watch him down a sugary soda drink he had bought from one of the food stalls. 

“You act as if you’ve never been to an amusement park,” he’s quiet for a second too long, and your eyebrows knit together, “but Suguru—” 

“You guys would go every summer, but it was when I had my prep classes on the weekends,” he runs his fingers through his white locks, “I would have skipped when I was older, but by the time I had stopped caring what my father thought of me, you had already gone to college and Suguru’s family stopped going,” 

You frown — you knew Satoru didn’t have the best upbringing — yes he had every opportunity at his fingertips, all the money in the world that you couldn’t even fathom, but you could count the number of times he’s mentioned his parents on one hand. 

“I was always so jealous when you guys would go,” he sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “it seems silly now—” 

“No, it’s not,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “you should have been allowed to be a kid,” 

He chuckles, a noise that sticks in your chest, “Well, more than anything, I wanted to go with you,” his cerulean eyes find yours, a soft smile on his lips, “thank you for indulging me, princess,” 

“Well, you’re the one doing me a favor, right?” you tease, getting to your feet, “c’mon we have plenty of other things to do — I saw a booth with candy apples not too far over there—” you point, and his fingers are already finding yours as he nearly drags you along, a laugh caught in your throat as you can’t help but smile at his excitement. 

It’s infectious, you thought as the two of you got in line, Satoru nearly vibrating with need for his sugar fix, and you shook your head, biting back a laugh, just like him. 

~~~

“You don’t have to walk me home,” the sun had long sunk by the time you both had left, staying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks before heading back, “it’s not that far from here,” 

The two of you had opted to take public transport to the amusement park, knowing there would be next to nowhere to park or rather only the middle of nowhere to park. The cicadas were already beginning their symphony, filling the relative silence of the neighborhood now, except for the chatter heard from inside houses or outside in gardens. 

“Who would carry your loot home?” and he tilts the giant plushie to show his unimpressed face, “you barely wanted to carry this at the park, even after you begged me to win it, and I did, in one shot,” 

And he did, he had won you a giant polar bear plushie nearly as tall as you were in his hands, along with several bags of sweets he had bought on the way out, just to snack on tonight (and you seriously wondered if he ate anything that was not coated in mochi, chocolate, or sugar). 

“I don’t remember begging you — I asked you,” you cross your arms, and you know he’s smiling behind the bear, using the plushie to hide his goddamn smirk, “i did! I just asked if we could try to win it—” 

“And I remember the phrases ‘please’ and ‘i need it’ being involved in the conversation,” you felt your cheeks burn, “you still like these things, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” and he moves the polar bear under one arm, the bags in the other so you could actually see his face. 

“You always loved plushies, you had that one from your parents that you kept in your room with you all the time—” 

“Panda, I was very original with that name,” you shake your head, before your gaze turns to him, his sunglasses gleaming on his head in the low light of the streetlamps, “I can’t believe you remembered that,” 

“There’s barely a thing I’d forget when it comes to you,” and you bite your lip, heart squeezing at his words, “you look like you wanna say something, princess?” 

You reached the outside of your apartment building just as night fell, humidity still clinging to the thick summer air. The light of the lobby spilling out into the sidewalk through the glass doors, just as the streets grew quieter. 

And you do — you’re not sure if you should ask it — a question posed on a precipice of uncertainty that you didn’t know if you wanted to step off of. But you know you had to, at one point or another. 

You could just go inside, brush off his question, and leave the day at that. But a nagging question had wriggled it’s way to the forefront of your mind, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your mind until it left your tongue. 

You chew on your lip, “You say these things so easily when it comes to me, but how are you so sure?” 

And he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second, “I just know,” 

“But how?” He’s shaking his head, stepping forward, until he’s a breath away, your eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips for a split second, your own air caught in your traitorous throat. 

“Instead of wondering why I feel why I do, I think you should wonder why you’re so unsure,” and his fingers graze your cheek, tilting your chin upwards, his touch sending heat to the far reaches of your body, and he’s leaning forward. Your eyes nearly flutter shut, as his words nearly warm your lips, but no, instead they brush against your ear, “because if I was still just that kid to you that I was all those years ago, then why aren’t you pulling away?” 

Your eyes blink open, as he pulls away, grin on his lips, as he hands you your polar bear plushie, “Satoru—“ and you don’t even know what you want to say — you want to argue, you want to say something, anything, but nothing comes out but his name. 

“You shouldn’t let a guy get that close, Princess, especially not twice,” he sighs, lips still curled, “because if you let me that close again, I won’t be leaving without a kiss,” 

And you could only stare after him as he left — fingers touching your ear he had whispered against, lips pursing, as you huff, cheeks burning as you step inside your building, burying your face in white fluff of the polar bear that looked a little too much like someone’s hair. 

“Idiot.” 

~~~~

You’re avoiding me. 

Satoru wasn’t wrong. You were — but not exactly on purpose. Or at least you didn’t think so. It had been the third time you had turned him down in the last week. Although, today’s wasn’t intentionally so. You stewed in a corner of the bar, eyes glancing at your phone — what was really an appropriate time to leave a work-sanctioned event without looking completely anti-social? 

It was never really fun coming to these events alone — but you knew if Satoru was here, you’d actually have a good time. You were almost surprised he hadn’t shown up at your place or your work to see you — all he had done is text you. And why did that almost disappoint you?

You checked the time again, met with the notification of Satoru’s message again before you swiped it away out of sight. But he wasn’t out of mind. He hadn’t been for days. You rubbed at your temples — you hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since your day at the amusement park, thoughts spinning in circles and it was all his fault. You had done everything to get him out of your head — minimize contact, not see him, even drag yourself to an event like this — but still, you stared at your phone screen again, the ghost of his words still warming your ear. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Fuck. What were you doing? You took a long swig of your drink, hoping the alcohol could erase some of that night out of your mind. The last thing you needed to be thinking about was Satoru Gojo. 

“So who’s the guy who has been picking you up after work?” 

You nearly choked on your drink. Really? You downed your drink, hoping you can ignore the question if you take long enough downing the searing concoction that the bartender had handed you, maybe they would let you off the hook. But as you finish the drink, you only find your coworkers staring back at you still. The hush that fell over this group of women was far too reverent for a conversation about a man. 

“He’s my little cousin’s best friend,” you reply, ordering another drink — you were going to need it, and the women exchange glances, fake smiles plastered on their lips. 

“He’s not your boyfriend?” and a strange twinge settles in your chest at the question, poking and prodding your tongue to say no, no he wasn’t, but you almost didn’t want to. 

“No, he isn’t,” and the women grin amongst each other, “if you would excuse me—” 

“Wait, wait, we just started talking, come on now,” you sigh internally, as they order another round of drinks as they corral you to their table, maybe after this you could finally leave. 

~~~

“What’s got you so down?” Suguru slides into a seat across from Satoru — Satoru who couldn’t stop checking his phone to see if you had replied. 

“What do you mean?” he sighs, he shouldn’t have sent that text earlier. He shouldn’t push so much, he’s already pushed enough with his comment. God, why the fuck did he say that? What if you thought he was a creep—what if you thought he was disgusting? What if— 

“You look pathetic,” Suguru sips his coffee in his hand, scrolling through his phone, “who is it?” 

Satoru sits up, locking his phone, tucking it away as if it would incriminate him — flashing your name across the screen like it was plastered over his mind, “what do you mean?” 

“I’ve never seen you like this, you keep checking your phone — you barely can keep track of it most of the time,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I figured you must have grew a dick and started liking someone,” 

“Look who’s talking — when’s the last time you dated someone again?” And Satoru catches the crumpled up paper Suguru tosses, “don’t get on your high horse if you don’t want the same thing back,” 

“At least I’m not waiting like a lovesick puppy over my phone,” Suguru mutters, taking another sip of his drink, and that’s when a phone ringing cuts through the silence — that was your ringtone, the very one he set to know when you’d call — just so he wouldn’t miss it, “looks like your waiting by the door paid off,” 

“Fuck off,” Satoru mumbled, walking off with his phone as he picked up, “hello?” 

“Suguru!” Satoru’s brow furrowed at the sound of your cousin’s name leaving your lips, “can you pick me up plz—“ your words were slurred, sounds of chatter cutting through the background. 

“Princ—“ you hiccuped, a small groan leaving your lips. 

“You can’t tell Satoru, he’ll come here and my coworkers won’t stop asking me about him,” you sigh again, mumbling, “why does he have to be so—ugh, it’s not fair for someone to be that pretty—“ 

Pretty? 

His cheeks burned, as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to bite back a stupid smile on his lips — it’s not fair for you to be this cute. He would have preferred ‘handsome’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘your boyfriend’ — but he could settle for pretty. 

“Anyway!” You cut his thoughts off, “could you come get me?” And Satoru bit his lip, glancing at Suguru — he could tell Suguru to get you, he could, but the odds of you letting something slip to Suguru—- “remember you can’t tell Satoru—“ 

—was really high. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there, and I won’t tell him,” he adds, because you already had. 

~~~

“How did you find out where I work?” Satoru didn’t know after so many years that there were still new things to learn about you still — and one thing he had learned tonight was that —- you pouted at him, stumbling slightly as he came to a stop in front of your building — you were really whiny when drunk. 

“I picked you up there, remember?” he lightly flicked your forehead that only made you huff, “now do you have your keys?” 

“Do you know how annoying you are?” And he has to bite back a laugh at your scrunched up face. 

“I do, sweetheart, but I’d love to hear you tell me,” you scoff, crossing your arms only to immediately uncross to dig through your purse for your keys, tossing out several things that Satoru catches or picks up. 

“You come to my work and pick me up, and act all swoon worthy, and perfect, and you look like that—“ 

“Like what?” he can’t hide his smile this time, and your brow furrows as you pull out your keys, lips opening and closing, until you purse them. 

“Like that,” you grumble as you teeter on your feet again, before he supports you, and he swore he heard you mumble, “so disgustingly handsome,” 

And he’s glad your eyes are half closed and focused ahead, otherwise he knew you’d smack him for the grin on his face. 

“Oi, don’t—“ and you don’t listen, nearly falling over as you unlock your door, whole body weight leaned against it, but his arm slips around you, holding you up from face planting into your floor, “you’re gonna break your neck, Princess,” 

“You wouldn’t let that happen,” You break from his grip and lean up close, your breath warming his lips, your gaze half lidded, “not when you love me,” and his heart thuds against his ribs, rattling his lungs and bones alike, “that’s what you said, right?” 

You weren’t making this easy, not with your fingers now sliding up his chest, toying with the top button of his shirt, “I did—“ 

“So are you going to prove it?” And the floor feels as if it slips out from underneath him, and all he feels is you, only you — the brush of your fingers against his chest, the faint scent of lavender from your perfume that your aunt had gifted you, and the caress of your gaze against his lips, the same eyes he could easily lose himself in — if he wasn’t careful. 

But he had to be careful — because it was you. 

“But—“

“But what?” it would be so easy to kiss you, when you were only half a breath away, lips parted and gaze asking him to do so, to just lean in—but he can’t.

Not like this. 

His thumb runs down your lips, your eyes fluttering shut, fingers sliding to cup your jaw, and he leans in — feeling your breath catch—

But he only flicks your forehead, drawing a soft yelp from you. 

“I’d like you to remember our first kiss,” and he’s corralling you into bed after that, your body keeling over into the soft mattress, as he’s able to wriggle you under the comforter. Your body relaxes into the plush bed, eyes shut, as your muscles loosen and unwind, while Satoru stands over you, the exact opposite — muscles taut and mind whirring. 

Fuck.

“You never make it easy, do you, Princess?” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he scrubs a hand down his face, “good night,” his fingers ghost over the swell of your cheek, before turning to leave—

And your fingers caught him around the wrist, eyes half open as you stared up at him, a pout on your lips but now for an entirely different, but somehow the same reason—

“Stay,” one word nearly had him crumble right there — and how pathetic was that? Maybe Suguru was right — he was no better than a puppy at your beck and call — waiting by the door for his master to return. And he almost didn’t mind — if you always came home to him.  

“Princess, you have to go to sleep—“ he could easily break from your grip, fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist, but your grasp may have been very well made of iron with how you had pinned him into place — an entomologist pinning their butterfly in their display. 

“Don’t wanna sleep alone,” a slight whine in your voice makes him waver again, but he had a problem with sleeping beside you—

He shifted in place, adjusting himself, a somewhat big problem thst wouldn’t go away — no matter how many times he thought about Gakuganji in his underwear — especially when you were looking at him like that, half dressed in bed with a pout on your lips and want in your gaze—want that he never thought would be for him. 

“Please?” And that’s all it takes, his thumb rubbing against your fingers — because he could never say no to you. 

~~~~

“Are you okay?” 

Satoru was never left alone — not since he had managed to wander off alone when he was five. It took several hours and a dozen security guards to find him at a bakery, having his third piece of cake. And when he was brought home, he was told just how many ways that could have went wrong — what could have happened to him, and most of all — how badly it could have made his parents look. 

After that, he couldn’t remember a time that his hand wasn’t clutched by a caretaker or escort — from school to home to anywhere else he wished to go. But he never wished to go anywhere, not with a stranger at his side. 

It was only when he met Suguru that he was allowed to go out without someone hovering over his shoulder. But without warning — warning that if any incident would mean he would be stuck back in his daily life. But that meant when he got distracted in the pastry section of the supermarket — looking for the exclusive mochi he desperately wanted — he found himself alone, with you and Suguru nowhere in sight. 

“Suguru?” Satoru called, head whipping around, chest thudding as the white noise of the market grew louder. His gaze falls, ears ringing with all that could go wrong, back to the life with no one at his side, only strangers— 

“Toru?” Satoru’s gaze snaps up, your hands on your hips, your head tilted, “you okay?” And he’s quickly wiping away his tears, sniffling softly, your hand finding the top of his head, “i got you something,” and you hold out a mochi in front of him, and he blinks. 

“You found it?” He’s blinking and your lips curve into a pretty smile. 

“Anything for you, Satoru,” your fingers run through his hair, “Satoru? Satoru—“ 

His eyes flutter open, finding you leaning over him, your tousled hair in messy tangles, “finally awake?” And a soft chuckle on your lips as you speak, rubbing your eye, flinching as you rub your temples, “what exactly happened last night?” 

“You mean besides you calling me pretty?” And your jaw drops, biting your lip, “and begging me to stay? Didn’t know you liked my company that much, Princess,” 

You glare at him, “well with charm like that—“ you mutter, when it occurs to you, “why did you sleep on the floor? And with that?” You point to the polar bear plushie he used as a pillow last night. 

Not his most preferred bedfellow. 

Always full of surprises, his cheeks burn, and he only can hope it doesn’t show on his face, hidden behind a cheeky smile, “Didn’t know you were so eager to share a bed with me, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “I have to warn you, I have a tendency to cuddle—“ and you smack him with a pillow, he sighs, “someone wasn’t too keen on sharing her pillows with me, so this was the best I could do,”

You snort, as you take the offending plushie from him, “Did you do something to him?”

He tilts his head, “Eh?” And you hold up the polar bear plush, “what could I do to him?”  

“Someone did threaten to toss him out into the ocean so he could join his family,” 

“I can do a lot of things, but I can’t solve global warming, Princess,” and you bite back a laugh, “I was on my best behavior with him last night, even though he’s a shitty pillow,” and you didn’t have to know how he had slapped him a couple times. 

But even so, you bite your lip, looking down as you toy with your comforter, “why did you come?” 

He blinks, “what do you mean?” 

“You could have sent Suguru, but you came, and you stayed, on the floor,” and he curls his lips. 

“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” And you roll your eyes, still waiting for an answer, and his voice grows soft, “you know why, Princess,” 

“I do, but I don’t,” you murmur, fidgeting with your blanket as you chewed on your bottom lip, “my coworkers couldn’t stop talking about you last night, they kept saying how handsome you are, how wonderful, how perfect—“ 

“Should I be less handsome or perfect? Because don’t know if that’s possible—“ and it earns him another whack with the pillow, but he only catches it, “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” 

“It’s not, but I don’t know why after all these years, you still want me,” you sigh, words pushing past your lips,  “you could have anyone, Satoru,” 

“If I just wanted anyone, I wouldn’t have fell in love with you,” and you bury your face in your pillow, gaze peeking down at him. 

“You say that with such ease, how do you know what love even is? I don’t know if I know what it is,” you add, mumbling under your breath, and his eyes can’t help but follow the way your fingers run through your hair. 

“I don’t think I need to know when I feel it,” Satoru sat up, dangerously close to you, within reach yet so far out of it, “do you need to know to see the sky is blue? Do you need to know to feel pain when you burn yourself?” 

“Didn’t know you were taking philosophy classes with Suguru,” and he snorts, shaking his head, “Satoru—“ 

“Like I said before, Princess, just give me some time,” his fingers reach for you, and your breath catches, before he slowly smoothed your hair out, “and I’ll win you over,” 

Your eyes flicker to his, and god, he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you, but he couldn’t. He had to be patient. He couldn’t push you — he wanted you to want him just as much. He would make you fall into his arms willingly, and you’d kiss him — not the other way around. 

“Want some breakfast?” your lips curl into a soft smile, the very same smile that he had fallen for time and time again. 

“You offering to cook me breakfast?” 

“Just wondering what would shut you up the quickest,” and he has half a mind to reply with ‘your lips,’ but he decides against it, “pancakes?” 

~~~

“I can feel you staring,” 

Even with your back turned to the stove, bowl in hand as you whipped the batter with the whisk, hoping your laser focus on the pancakes would help you distract yourself. But it did little when you could feel his gaze sticking in your back, spotlights on every little movement — something that wouldn’t have bothered you before — but after last night—

This was why you never drank. 

You covered your face with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, as you placed the bowl down, what had your life become? 

“C’mon you can’t just let a guy like that go,” one of the women from work nudged you — you couldn’t remember if her name was Kanae or Kanao — handing you a refill of the drink you had gotten, “he certainly seems into you from the way he looks at you,” 

“If he isn’t, I’d take him off your hands,” Saki slurred, nearly spilling her drink, “he seems to like you. Is there really nothing between you two?” 

“Not really,” you sipped your drink, if confessing to you after over a decade was nothing, “he’s just a friend,” and he was — a friend who was your fake boyfriend. 

“You know with how you started, I thought your love life would be a lot more interesting,” Kanae sighed far too loudly, as she took another long swig of her cocktail. 

“Well we’ve talked a lot about what you guys are but we haven’t asked how you feel,” Saki grinned, sloppily drunk yet somehow masterful with her questions, “how do you feel about him?” 

And how did you? If someone asked you a few weeks ago, you would said he was just your little cousin’s best friend, a childhood friend — and you wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, he has given you so much to think about. Would you be this hesitant if you two haven’t met as kids? If he wasn’t Suguru’s best friend? If he didn’t seem so far out of your league? 

Maybe. But you were never good at going for things you wanted — or accepting things as they were. Even with Naoya, you knew you should have broken up with him — you knew he was toxic, and yet you stayed — because it was easier. 

And maybe it was easier to push Satoru away than to face how you felt.

Fuck, you were too drunk for this — you needed to get out of here, “excuse me,” you manage to slip away into the bathroom, washing your face, leaning over the sink. 

You held your forehead, steadying yourself against the cold porcelain, fingers digging into the rim of the sink — eyes burning as your head throbs, a wave of nausea pulsing through your stomach. Fuck, there was no way that you could get home alone. 

You pulled out your phone and scrolled — who the fuck would you call? The only people you knew were your family and…

Nope. No. Not an option. 

You found Suguru’s number and tried to text, only to find your eyes blurring, and you knew if you sent a message he would be holding over any typos or fuck ups over your head forever. 

You found his name, your head spinning as you clicked and called. 

He didn’t pick up.

“Fucker,” you mumble, trying to hit his name again, your head spinning, and finally someone picked up—

And then you woke up in bed. A soft groan fell from your lips, knives prodding at every inch of your brain, memory blended and choppy as you drew into consciousness. You were home, your eyes fluttering open to sunlight illuminating your bedroom, a dull stiffness in your muscles that makes you stretch, turning on your side only to be met with a sight. 

Satoru Gojo. Asleep on your floor, cuddling the plush polar bear he won for you. You stared, blinking, wondering if blinking away the sleep would somehow blink away Satoru too (it did not unfortunately). So you did the only other thing you could think of — take a picture. 

As you glanced from the image to him, bits and pieces came back — from your drunken ramblings on the phone to the ones in person, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in your comforter before staring down at him. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? You were really testing those limits. 

But even so, as you watched him sleep on top of the plushie, the only thing you could wonder was why had he stayed? He could have left after you fell asleep, or even before that, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop him. But he stayed, even on the floor, rather than anywhere else. 

“So?” you didn’t need to turn from the stove to know he was grinning, “can’t I enjoy the show, Princess?” 

“If you’re enjoying it so much, how about you become part of it and help?” you offer him a spatula, as he makes his way over, leaning over you, his body brushing against yours, but you ignore it all the same, eyes focused on the task instead on the warmth blooming from his touch, “I’ll spoon and you flip,” 

The two of you work in silence, as you spoon batter onto the griddle and he flips the pancakes — and it’s only when you’re both just about done that you glance over, and his lips are curled, “What are you smiling about?” and he shakes his head, as he flips the last of the pancakes onto the stack, “Satoru—“ 

“I just never really have made breakfast like this before, or had someone make it for me,” he scratches the back of his head, “my parents always had chefs or maids or someone make me all my meals, and even when I moved out, I always cooked alone or bought my meals out,” he shrugs, as he turned the stove off, “it reminds me when you’d make me and Suguru instant ramen after we came in from playing outside,” 

You snort, “You remember that?” You would get stuck making ramen for the two of them, tossing some seasoning and sauces into the mixture along with an egg, “I always put too much black pepper. I thought you hated it,” 

“But I always finished,” he added, and he did, even if his cheeks were burning red and eyes watering by the end of the bowl. Your lips curl at the memory of him at the age of twelve downing an entire glass of water and spilling it all over the front of himself. 

“Well I can make a lot more than instant noodles now,” you have Satoru set the table while you start to clean up, turning on the sink. You hear the clink of plates and utensils behind you, as he sets them down on the table, but you can feel his gaze fall over you even as your back is turned. 

“I’m going to need some proof — there were a few times you almost burned those noodles,” and you pout, turning with your hands on your hips. 

“Oh you want me to prove it now?” You turn, running your finger discreetly up the side of the used mixing bowl, finger full of batter as you walk up to him, hands behind your back. 

“And how’re you gonna do that, Princess?” the corner of his lip quirks upwards, as you step close up to him, and god, he’s fucking tall — and it kind of pissed you off — all these boys shoot up like fucking weeds, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t knock him down a bit. 

“Close your eyes, and find out,” he raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but still he obeys — good boy, the praise runs through your head to the tip of your tongue, but you bite it and the words back alike. And you’re so close, you can see his snow white eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, and he’s so unfairly pretty, 

For now. 

You’re so close, you nearly feel his body warmth radiate your skin — and you swear you hear his breath hitch — and it would be so easy to lean forward— “Princess — what—” 

And then he gasps when you smear pancake batter down his cheek, a snort leaving your lips as he gapes at you, mouth ajar. He blinks, his hand reaching for his cheek, before he stops when his eyes flit to your batter caked finger, “You—” 

You’re giggling, trying to stop yourself from doubling over at his expression, “What? I just wanted to give you a taste of my cooking before you tried it,” and he frowns at you for a moment, before his lips curl deviously, tilting his head. 

“Is that right?” and his fingers run through the smeared batter, caking his finger tips before he’s stepping towards you, “then it’s fair, if I make you taste it too—“ and you’re trying to back up, giggles leaving your lips,  but he catches you by the wrist. 

“Satoru—“ you whine as you’re trying to squirm away, “let go!” but he only pulls you close, your body nearly bumping against his — and it was your turn for your breath to catch, cerulean irises stealing the air from your lungs as you drowned in them, “hey—“ 

“Just how much are you gonna tempt me, Princess?” and you should step away, but his fingers around your wrist send warmth blooming down your arm, straight to your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to step away. 

“And how am I doing that?” His fingers tug you closer, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist, before he leans close. 

“You know exactly how,” and your glance flickers from his gaze to his lips, and back again, resisting the urge to shut your eyes — but you don’t have to, when he smears the batter all over your cheek. 

“Toru!” You stare at him, and he’s laughing, as you grab at him, only for him to slip away, “I’m gonna kill you—“ and you move towards the sink, batter covered bowl still inside, “oh just you wait—“ 

But your beeline is cut short by his grip, arm darting around your middle, as he pulls you back. You gasp, struggling in his arms in vain — fuck his stupidly toned arms,  “you shouldn’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” his words are said against your ear, but they rush down your body in almost a shudder. 

His lips are an inch or two from yours, you would barely need to lean to reach them — the words of your coworkers ring in your ears 

“Who said I wasn’t?” His eyes find yours, his fingers tilting your chin ever so slightly, when your phone rings. 

You jerk slightly at the sound, your eyes flickering to the name across the screen and see Suguru’s name flashing on the screen. 

“It’s Suguru,” and Satoru lets go of you, as you make your way to the phone, and you swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” you don’t pick up the phone but a few texts come through anyway. 

“Nothing,” he scratched the back of his head, “what did he say?” 

“He’s asking if I wanna come over for dinner tonight, said you’re gonna be there too?” And you raise an eyebrow, as Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. 

“Apparently I am,” you turn on the faucet, cleaning your face off, offering Satoru a damp tissue. “Guess this won’t be the last meal we’re sharing today,” 

“Guess not,” his fingers brush yours when taking the tissue, trying to clean the batter off his cheek but only spreads the mess. You snort, as you take the napkin from him holding his face by the chin, “so how’re we gonna play it?” 

“Play what?” You toss the napkin away, both of you taking a seat at the table. 

“Did you forget?” He stabs a pancake and places it in his plate, “we told your aunt we’re dating — and that we’re hiding it from Suguru, and you just agreed to dinner with both of them,” 

Fuck. 

✧ a/n: hi it's been quite a while T_T. sorry work has been so busy. i haven't had a moment to post, and now i had to split this up because it just got too long lmao. part two will come later, i'm going to be prioritizing my kinktober fics. thank you to @coffee-and-geto for betaing :)

✧ taglist: @satorusmochis , @celestialgojo , @sugurubabe , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @strawberryfanatic01 , @cira273 , @sobbangchan , @hiraethwrote , @peppertoastuniverse , @dreamtardisspace , @redmangotango , @h4ru-h4ruu , @anpacax0 , @theshylittleelfgirl , @hyori2 , @elliesndg , @maddietries , @roses-can-be-deadly-too, @vernasce-blogs , @mrsoikawa17 , @spider-fan72 , @haoxiaoxi , @horchatacow , @lovemoreworrylessv, @maybe-a-bi-witch , @missroki , @rubyarerosies ,, @ranatherealestsigma , @svt-backup , @catsgomurp , @sakurastorm , @forest-fruits-jam , @lemonpoppy-seed , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @notgoodforlife , @johannakhalafalla , @fushitoru , @kentosbutterfly , @augustwinesworld

[f0ofishies]

You were just a nice addition to the company's financial team. Either you were hired because of your pretty looks, or maybe you're just pleasing to the eyes. Now Giyuu Tomioka was having a hard time– that pretty face of yours was just so distracting to him. He was the finance leader, getting promoted just recently. . .

. . .But you were as dumb as can be. How? You were terrible at statistics. Seriously, why did the boss even hire you in the first place? That's why the team made you some free use. When someone needs some coffee? You'd be there in a jiffy with their preferred creamer or sugar or plain old black. Maybe, when they needed something to be copied over by the machine? You'd be in the copy room for hours to help with that.

The only one who never regarded you was the leader, Giyuu. He had a problem with you or something? You couldn't tell at all, you pursued your lips shut. He was explaining some new project the team was assigned. Honestly, the information went from one ear and out the other.

Your eyes looked up wide as giyuu's thumb slid against your lips. "Naughty baby.." Letting out a small grunt that escaped your lips, you unsubconciously nestled between his legs. "Giyuu– stop teasing.." You let out that whine. Back at the meeting room, but doors locked, everybody had left it left only you two in the tense atmosphere. He'd only ever notice you when he wanted to fuck.

"Eh? But you weren't even listening to my instructions, were you?" You shaked your head as you leaned your head out. "–I did, giyuu.." He harshly tilted your chin further. "Then tell me, why are you grinding me like a degenerate whore right now?" That was not a lie, you'd been quivering– your hole spasming at the slightest touch of that blucher shoes of his. The heel stimulates your drenched undies, so good you held back a moan.

"Mmm, can't help myself when I'm with you.." You reasoned, trying to get on his good side. The one that fucks you slowly and lovingly like you were so fragile to him, you would break in an instant. No. . no, he was looking at you with desire those lapis blue eyes staring down at you– you could literally climax in an instant.

"A fuckin' slut. . .recount what I just said, hm?" His voice went on a lower octave, fuckfuckfuck. You were going to lose it, "Yes well–" another subtle grind from you to his shoes. "You instructed us to calculate the sum of—" Your breath hitched as he had wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. "Dumb.. dumb bunny, that isn't even correct.."

"What?" Then you felt it another squeeze— you'd be gasping for air right now, but the lightheaded as you were. You'd let out a hard breath, blinking. Giyuu was never this rough, not that you don't want.. no, you want it— it was just weird. "Get your fucking ass on the desk now."

Your tears were nonstop at this point, crying at this point. He'd been edging for how long? Fuck, it didn't matter anymore. The spanks, slaps, and spewing insults didn't matter. You needed his dick now. . ! Even with the way his spit rolled down on your sensitive nub without his fingers, there's no way you'd even fit half of it in.

"Shitt— it's not gonna fit if you don't relax..!" You really did try, but he was penetrating so rough– the pain and pleasure letting out your high-pitched moans bouncing the meeting room. He grabbed your face and then stared, both of you sharing a moment of bliss from his roughness. "Sweetheart, you gotta relax.. just spread your legs better.. 'Kay?"

"Hold your legs—agh.. fuckk you're tight just like last night?"

[iyohme]

and i know that you mean so well;

but i am not a vessel for your good intent!

("Tongues and Teeth," - The Crane Wives)

my serotonin got jetpack bursted into the stratosphere with this blurb by OP. Your brain is so juicy and moist and wrinkly OP. Godspeed. I'm not even into DC but the whole "Burnt out and neglected, and now a bunch of people driven by guilt guilt guilt want me back so they can feel less guilty?" just made the racoon in me rub its hands menacingly hoho

Just imagine not even living your best life; just a shadow in the lives of the illustrious Waynes, a ghost in a castle, visible only to the loyal servant and the occasional curious paparazzi who shrugs and looks away--after all, there was no mention of you in any occasion: must be the kid of in-house staff. How nice of Brucie Wayne to allow even the children of in-house staff the opportunity to study at such a high-end college! (The reporters chortle and snicker at your barely-passing marks, sighing at such a wasted opportunity. Oh well. And then they move on to the tabloid topic of the week, after the strutting socialites and the rich and the arrested Rogues.)

You gather things.

You gather pieces of a cracked dream, a single plastic teacup you had brought into the cavernous mansion the day you held Alfred's old, gnarled hand. Ears ringing and slippers still stained with your parent's blood as they were gunned down before your very eyes. You gather your things, what made you before you were "Wayne," so to say. Your mother's old cigarette box, smuggled from the crime scene, your one memento of the woman who you could not forget but never forgive.

A juxtaposition of love and hate, forever crucified. The image of the Virgin Mary inside the tin box seems to be a mockery of faith, across from her image lying cheap cigarettes.

You gather test papers, all barely passing and with more reds than blacks, and grind them up into strips with the shredder you had brought; just one time the black card Wayne had given you, and it left the bitterest, sourest aftertaste in your mouth. They burn so cozily on the school Bunsen burners, especially when sprayed with alcohol, immediately immolating like timelapse sparkler videos. You gather your name before the Incident, you cherish it, and you repeat the syllables in the dead of night, spilling past your mouth. Even if it was the name of a child-abusing monster, it was still yours, and it was still of use.

And use it, you would.

While they go and be a family, you work to begin yours.

You gather funds: it's easy to take on odd jobs when people do not suspect you. You tuck away that black card at the bottom of your study table drawers, forgotten there like scribbled-out pages of an essay, an unfinished drawing, and leftover candy wrappers. It's a bit-by-bit work, but you know the Waynes wouldn't even see it happening. Your brothers and sisters (an absurdly alien concept, as they don't even acknowledge you exist ninety-five percent of the time) are prodigies paraded around at every event. You are the unseen ghost flitting through their shadows.

Graduation comes and goes. It's laughably easy to falsify having lost your social security number and other documents--Gotham is that much of a shithole, you suppose. The man in the cowl notwithstanding. His efforts are admirable, but weak. Recidivism is common in this place, as if there were some sort of pull that incited the people in Gotham to cruelty, to madness.

It's absurdly Lovecraftian, in its own way.

You are not even living your best life, and yet you are free. Alfred knows; he always knows. If you are The Ghost, then the aged butler is a man one step between the doors of death, and he sees you every time you move. Your room is empty, and he raises an eyebrow at your satchel: all your items already stored elsewhere or given away.

("I suppose this was a long time coming, Little Master."

Tap tap tap. Footsteps on marble floors, setting sun.

You shrug. "Eh. The Waynes gave me a roof and education. It's all good."

You grunt. "Well, people change. Like you know, how kids being gifted stop being gifted when they grow older." You say, instead of 'Well, if a child doesn't get any praise or attention if they do good and probably even less if they were bad, why even bother?')

A pause. "Your academics were not so lackluster when you were younger."

You promise to try and stay in touch. (You crossed your fingers behind your back.) You leave, sunset on your face.

The nap you had in a dingy hotel with far too many odd stains and not enough locks you could put on was the soundest you've ever slept in years.

Freedom smells like summer air and the last rays of sun, followed by the cold blue hour.

It takes three months for an out-of-state college to accept you. It's far from Gotham. It has a dormitory. Excellent. While you were indeed a mediocre academic student, you had banked everything on band scholarships.

Who knew more than a hundred clarinet players had unclaimed scholarships yearly? Packing up your small life in bags, you take a train upwards to another state.

(Meanwhile, in Gotham, there is an odd sense of unease as Bruce Wayne stops by an inconspicuous door. It's relatively clean, as expected of his manor, but the worn out brass on the handle suggests that someone had lived there before. He opens the door. Steps in. A bed, a dresser, a study table. Bare bones.

The unease intensifies. But who?)

Someone had lived in here, yes.

[beansprean]

Follow up to this post dkjfhdkfjhdg (uncensored on Patreon)

ty to @veryintricaterituals for spanish beta! 😙

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of the foyer of the house as Guillermo walks backward from the front door, followed by cousin Miguel. Miguel swaggers through, looking around with a teasing grin, and says "Órale! Got rid of all the vines 'n shit, eh? No worries about eco-friendly anymore?" Guillermo smiles nervously, hands held out in a calming gesture as he backs toward the hallway. He replies, "Haha, yeah, okay, just...stay put and wait for me, okay? We'll just be in and out, real quick." Miguel asks, "What, you hiding something?" Guillermo splutters, "No, I just-" 1b. Close up of Guillermo from the front on a startled starburst background, eyes wide with panic as a voice from the hall calls out, "Guillermo?" Guillermo's face darkens and he begins to sweat profusely, bold text nearby telegraphing his thoughts: Oh no. 1c. Zoom out, view down the hallway as Guillermo leaps out of frame in the foreground, startled. Coming down the hall with a confident gait is Nandor, hair down, wearing nothing but his rings and a white button up shirt that certainly does not belong to him. His hairy thighs are bare beneath it, and his decency is only covered by a tastefully long black censor box that says 'swang!' as it swings back and forth with his steps. Nandor's stern gaze is focused on Guillermo as he demands, "Guillermo, where have you been? I had to take a bath all by myself, and I couldn't find my robe-"

2a. Wide shot from the side of all three men as Nandor reaches them at the mouth of the hallway. Nandor sees Miguel and grins, pleased, pointing at him and saying "Oh, hello... Is this for me?" Guillermo stands between them, frozen, red-faced, and sweating like a sinner in church. He shoots a panicked glance over his shoulder at Miguel, who is equally frozen and staring wide-eyed at Nandor's crotch. A clear dotted arrow line aims his gaze. 2b. Repeat. Guillermo snaps out of it and turns Nandor around, pushing at his back to steer him back down the hall. He splutters, "No, that is my cousin, just- no! Go to your room! And stop stealing my shirts!" Nandor, confused, allows himself to be pushed but glares over his shoulder, lip curled, and whines "Eyy, no pushing!" Miguel stands just as he was, wide-eyed stare moved to the middle distance. 2c. Shot from the hall toward the front door, Guillermo close-up in the foreground as he pushes Nandor away. In the background, Miguel somewhat recovers, a startled grin crossing his face as he holds one arm up in a shrug and calls, "Yo, hey, good for you, Memo-" Guillermo, blushing and angry, snaps back, "¡Cállate!" In parentheses: "shut up!"

3. Days later, Miguel stands with Silvia at her kitchen sink, drying a glass jar with a dishcloth as she has her gloved hands elbow-deep in soapy water. Frowning as he works, Miguel says, "Tía, conocí al novio de Memo el otro día." In parentheses: "Auntie, I met Memo's boyfriend the other day." Silvia smiles indulgently, eyes on the sink, and asks, "¿En serio? ¿Qué te pareció?" In parentheses: "Really? What did you think?" Miguel replies, "Como dijiste...mayor." In parentheses: "Like you said. Big." There is an asterisk next to big, leading to a footnote that says "Mayor can mean old/older or big/bigger". /end ID

[anemptypuddingcup]

Seeing his double.

Trafalgar Law x Female Reader Rewrite.

Seeing Double. Original Fic; Trafalgar Law.

Really wanted to rewrite this old fic of mine and give it a bit more backstory and extra elements or longer writing which is what the original didn’t have.

If you guys would love to see me rewrite any of my old fics, please suggest which one you’d like to see rewritten. Until then, I’ll be rewriting fics that I feel needs to be rewritten.

Contains: Two Trafalgar Laws. Law was split in two by a devil fruit power. Oral. Pussy eating. Fingering. Double penetration. Sandwiching. Voyeurism. Masturbation. Overstimulation. A very sticky fic. Just a fic full of porn. This fulfilled my craving for Law but also made it worse. A bit confused at some points but I’ve highlighted which law is talking. Blue is the original Law while Yellow is the doppelgänger.

Your door slowly creaks open and Law peeks inside before a sweet smile slowly began to spread across his face. “She’s so cute when she’s asleep…” He sighed out, his head turning around to face…himself. His doppelgänger smiles to him and he slowly walked past him and into your room while he followed, a grin plastered across his face.

“How do you think she’ll react when she see’s the two of us together?” Law asked, his smirk growing mischievous as he slowly peeled the blankets off of your pretty frame. “I’m sure she’s gonna wonder if she’s dreaming or not. Sleepy girl~” They both stared at you for a moment, watching as your body rose and lowered with every breath. He gaze to each out her before smiling wider and climbing onto your bed, their weight sinking beneath the both of them as they scooting in close to you.

“Fuck…She’s so fucking beautiful. What’re we gonna do with her?” He asked, turning over to himself while the other one gives him a mischievous little look in his eyes. “We’re gonna give her the night of her life. I want her to enjoy her first time.”

“Are we using Haki on her?”

“Nah, we gotta be delicate and gentle with her on her first time.

…

A soft little groan leaves your lips as you felt a pair of large hands against your thighs, their grip growing tighter against the soft flesh of your thighs while they watched you slowly open your eyes. “M-Mhh?~” You groaned out sleepily and began rubbing your eyes before you turned your head over to your beloved boyfriend, your body unconsciously propping itself up on your elbows as you sleepily blinked in and out of consciousness.

“________-Ya~ Wake up princess~”

“Wake up baby girl~”

You hear him say, a little chuckle leaving him as he crawls up closer to you. “Mmh…Traffy? Why did you say something twice…?” You rub the grogginess out of your eyes and slowly rolled over to turn on your lamp. You weakly reach out and flip the switch on, a mewl leaving you as you turned back over to your boyfriend.

You eyes widens as you see…two of your beloved boyfriend. “T-Traffy? E-Eh- W-What…?” You say with questionable shock, staring and watching as they both looked at each other and then back towards you and your beautiful frame.

The first Law waves to you while the other one crawls over behind you. “A little accident happened so now I have a doppelgänger for the time being~ Maybe it’s a little gift for you~” He whispers to you, his hand cupping and squeezing your face while you grew flustered from his touch. “Mmmgh…” You responded, your face turning a deep shade of red as you stared deep into his eyes.

The other Law crawls over to you and presses his body up against yours, his hands caressing and touching at your precious skin while you mewl out suddenly.

“You’re so soft and cute~” He whispers to you before he slowly presses his lips against yours, a groan leaving him as he adored the softness of your lips against his. You sigh out shakily as you feel Law grope your breasts behind you, your arms wrapping around Law in front of you as he held on softly to your head.

“God, is that how we look when we make out?~” Law asked, watching as both you and his doppelgänger made out in front of him. Law pulls away from your lips and he hums out while you trembled in his hands breathing heavily. “She’s so irresistible~ I see why we love her~” He mewled out, pulling away from you as he sits down in front of you.

He watched as his original counterpart fondled with one of your breasts, his other hand trailing down between your thighs and reaching over for your clit. He lifts his head to his doppelgänger and smiles to him.

“Wanna watch?~ She’s so hot when she’s flustered~” He asks, looking over to his doppelgänger before looking down at you. He nods in response and scoots in closer to you, watching as his hand teased at your pussy while you moan out all sweetly.

You gasp out shakily and rest your head against his chest, your body growing hot as you stared at the Law sitting in front of you. His eyes were staring down at his original counterpart’s fingers running along your slit, a heavy sigh leaving him as he watched.

“T-Traffy~” You whimpered, turning your head away in embarrassment as you mewl out at the feeling of his fingers trailing along your slit. Law looks down at you and smiles before giving you an adoring smooch against your temple. “Don’t go shy on us baby~ It’s only me~” He says to you, huffing out shakily as his cock begins to grow hard from feeling your pussy against his fingers.

You watched as Law suckled on his fingers before he’d move them down towards your cunt again, staring into your eyes as he slowly inserts his fingers past your tight and warm entrance. You moan out lengthily and huff out as he carefully began thrusting his fingers in and out of your sticky hole. “Ohh~ Oh fuck~ T-Traffy~” You mewled out, your brows furling as you felt his fingertips kiss at your sweet bundle of nerves so suddenly.

Law’s doppelgänger slides his hands into his boxers, a heavy and strained groan leaving him as he pulled his length from his restraints and began stroking his cock. “Oi, look at me darlin’~” He demanded you so sweetly, gaining your attention before you’d immediately look down between his legs to stare at his cock. You sigh out shakily as you watched him pump his cock, his hand stroking his shaft at the same pace Law was fucking you with his fingers.

“Watch me stroke my dick to you~ I want you to look and imagine that his fingers are my thick and long cock deep inside of your pussy~” He whispered to you, scooting in closer to you while you mewl out shakily in response.

Law hisses out behind you and begins pumping his fingers faster inside of you, his other hand reaching around and playing at your clit while the other Law began to stroke his cock a bit faster with a few heavy groans.

You moan out all sweetly and slowly began rolling your hips up into his hand, your walls tightening tight around his digits while you watched Law’s hand stroke his cock faster. Law bites his bottom lip and moans out, propping himself up on his other hand while he began thrusting his hips up into his hand.

“Fuck~ I bet your pussy feels so fucking good~ I just know it’s gonna suffocate my dick once I fuck the shit out of you~” He moans out to you, his words making you shudder with excitement and causing you to tighten and suck Traffy’s fingers deeper into your pussy.

“God, you two are gonna make me cum~ Can’t you feel how hard I am against your back baby?~” Law whispers to you, his hips grinding up against your back and making you whine out shakily. You mewl out loudly and arch your back, a hot yet tight feeling growing at the pit of your tummy as you grew more vocal for the both of them.

“Oh god, I-I’m g-gonna burst! I-I’m so close Traffyy~” You moan out, your face curling and scrunching up in arousal as your toes began to curl. “F-Fuck yes~ You wanna feel me cummin’ on your pussy? You want me to cum on this fat fuckin’ pussy of yours yeah?~” Law asked you, scooting in closer to you as before he began stroking his cock just a bit faster.

“Oh fuck~ Cum on her pussy! Please fucking do it!” Law growls out, his hand gripping your inner thigh and spreading your thighs open wider before he shoved his fingers deep inside of your pussy, nudging against your g-spot a bit hard. You gasp out and grip his forearm tightly, your moans now more angelic and loud while the sticky sounds of your pussy grew sloppier.

Law’s brows began to furl and he groans out heavily while he thrust his hips into the air and into his hand. “Fuck- F-Fuck I-I’m cumming!~” He hissed out, his hand gripping and stroking his cock a bit faster to squeeze out his orgasm while his eyes began to cross a bit. “Oooh! M’cumming!~ Oh god!” You gasp out heavily and threw your head back whilst biting your lip tightly, a heavy moan leaving your lips as you squirt out onto sheets and get just a bit of cum into Law’s thigh.

Law groans out shakily and cums out onto your slit, a little moan leaving him before he began to breathe heavily in exhaustion and arousal. Law removed his fingers from your pussy behind you and bites his bottom lip, a little moan leaving him as he watched both you and his doppelgänger cum onto each other.

Law presses his lips against yours, giving you a sticky and sloppy kiss while he continues to stroke his cock just to ride out his high. “Fuck me, you’re so fuckin’ cute~ Kiss me more you fuckin’ cutie~” He mewls out to you, his eyes looking down into yours while he watched you sit up. You grabbed his face and pulled him back into your lips, your tongue intertwining and raveling along with his while he moans out in ecstasy.

He slowly pulls away and moans out, nuzzling his nose against yours before he’d pull away fully and looked up at his original counterpart. “Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot~ I’m so fucking hard right now~” He sighs out heavily, his body scooting back from yours before you slowly sat up from his chest.

Law’s doppelgänger lied down beside him, a heavy sigh leaving him as he lied there with his still hardened cock prodding up in the air.

You mewl out shakily in sensitivity before turning over to them, staring down at the imprint of Law’s thick and hardened cock sticking out through his boxers before looking back over to his doppelgänger. You blushed deeply and sighed out, watching as both Laws peered to you before giggling.

“Mind sucking me off baby girl?~” He asked you, his words making you hum out while your face grew hot. You nodded and slowly got down onto your tummy, a little hum leaving Law as he felt your breasts push up against his thighs.

You pull at the waistband of his boxers before sliding them down, watching as his cock pops up while he hissed out shakily. You press you lips against his tip before taking his length down your throat, a moan leaving you while Law moans out in ecstasy. You reach your hand over to the other Law, your soft and smaller hand gripping his cock and stroking it for him.

The both of them props up onto their elbows and they watched as you took one of their length deep down your throat and stroked the other. Your eyes began tear up and you gagged a bit before trying again shortly after, a little chuckle leaving them both as they watched you. “There’s no rush sweetness, take your time.” Law presses his hand against your head, caressing and combing his fingers through your strands while you hum out in response.

A sigh left him as he watched you, your face all adorable for both him and his doppelgänger. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good wrapped around my cock like this~” He moans out, a heavy sigh leaving him as you began to bob your head just a bit more for him before pulling away and removing his cock from your throat. You coughed just a bit before looking back up to him with tears running down your face, his hand rubbing your head while you pouted up at him.

Both of the Laws caresses your temple before holding their cocks up to you, wanting you to try and take both of their dicks into your mouth. You moan out and open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out to them while they presses their tips against your tongue. You hold on to their cocks and suckled on their tips, a moan leaving you as you yearned to feel them down your throat.

They both looked to each and then back down to you.

“You can suck his cock since he hasn’t had a chance to cum yet~” Law says to you, pointing to his original while he began to jerk his cock in his hand again.

You looked over to Law and he cups your face and watched as you open your mouth for him. He slowly slides his length deep down your throat, groaning out shakily as he began to thrust and fuck into your throat. He held your head still while he thrusted his hips up against your face, watching as you took his length deep down your throat repeatedly while he moans out to you.

“Ahhh~ Fuckk~ Such a good fucking baby girl~ Keep sucking my dick just like that~” He groans out, his body slowly getting down and lying back onto his back while he watched you bob your head up and down. You moan out against his length, your pussy tightening while you felt his tip kissing the back of your throat.

Law hisses out shakily and threw his head back, a moan leaving him a s he could already feel himself wanting to cum deep down your throat. “Fuck I feel myself about to cum already~” He gasps out, biting his bottom lip while his hand had stayed pressed against your temple.

Law’s doppelgänger moans out shakily as he watched you suck Law’s cock, a moan leaving him as he felt his cock twitching in his hand again. Law’s cock twitches along your tongue and you moan out and begin gripping his hips tightly. Law fucked his hips up into your mouth, a moan leaving him as he felt himself ready to cum deep down your throat.

“Oh baby doll~ M’gonna cum~” He moans, his eyes shutting tightly as he began throwing his head back from the pleasure. You mewl out and look up at him, your eyes begging for him to just coat your tongue and shoot his seed deep down your throat. Law’s doppelgänger sighs out and moans out shakily, his hand moving a bit faster as he watched you take Law’s shaft so wonderfully.

“Fuck~ Fuck yeah!~ F-Fuck!-“ Law groans out heavily and grips your strands, holding your head in place as he shoots his seed down your throat. You moan out and your eyes roll out in ecstasy, enjoying the feeling of his warm and thick seed going down. He sighs out exhaustively and slowly moves his hand away from you allowing you to lift your head and cough before swallowing and remaining seeing lingering on your tongue.

You sigh out heavily to them, your cunt dripping and leaking so much of your slick out onto your sheets. Law’s doppelgänger sighs out before sitting up, edging himself as he watched you lie back with your sticky slick coating your inner thighs.

“Fuck that turned me on even more~ You’re soaking from sucking his dick aren’t you baby?~” He hums out, moving over to you and peppering a little kiss on your cheek. You nodded in response and spread your legs open a bit before playing at your pussy in arousal. “M-Mhmm…M-My pussy’s craving m-more of you two…T-Traffy…” You sighed out all needily, your fingers circling your clitoris while you watched Law slowly sit up.

“Y’hear that right?” Law looks back to him and smiles, watching as the original shoots up in excitement and crawls over to you. You watched as Law grabs your arms and pulls you up into his embrace, a heavy sigh leaving him as his bare cock kissed your pussy. “Does this- Does this mean you’re ready to…?” He asked you, his words trailing off while his golden eyes stared deep into yours. You blushed and flutter your lashes to him.

“Y-Yes~ I-I’m ready Traffy~ I-I need you both to take me~ Won’t you please?~” You asked them both, giving them a little pout while they both smiled to you in excitement.

“Of course we can.”

“Of course we can.”

They say in unison, biting their lips while their hands gripped your hips tightly. They both press up against your body, their heavy yet warm bodies giving you a sense of comfort yet flustering you even more. “Oi, did ya bring any lube for her?” Law asked, staring at his original while his hands circled at against your hips lovingly. Laws eyes widens in realization before he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck I forgot…” He sighs out, cursing himself for forgetting the one important thing he genuinely needed for you. Law shrugs and chuckles before lying your body down and pulling your ass closer to him, his hands spreading your ass open while you help out anxiously.

“Have any lube princess?” He asks you, his eyes flickered down to you before he stared back to your ass. You grew flustered at his words but nodded, pointing over to your nightstand. “I-In the drawer.” You responded, watching as the original reaches over to nightstand before gripping the handle to your drawer.

He slowly pulls a bottle from the drawer and throws it over to his doppelgänger before he’d shut the drawer. His doppelgänger catches the bottle and immediately opens it, his hand keeping you spread open before he pours some out onto you rear entrance. You jolt harshly and gasp out at the freezing temperature, your body trembling while he rubbed the lube in.

You felt him slowly slide two digits into your rear entrance, making you mewl shakily yet suddenly while Law watched. You blush deeply and shuddered as you felt the lube run down along your ass, an aroused sigh leaving your lips as you felt his fingers run along deep inside of you against your velvet walls. “I’m sure this is fine~ Just do the same for her pussy for extra measure.” He chuckled, removing his fingers from your backside while you sigh out shakily. He pulls you up and holds on to your thighs, his hands spreading your legs open for Law.

Law pours some out onto your pussy and you shuddered at the feeling of his fingers lubing up your slit while his doppelgänger peppered smooches against your neck. Both of them pressed their cocks up against both your entrances and you shudder in their grasp out of slight nervousness. The soft slid their lengths against you before sighing out, their cocks warm and sticky against you.

“It’s okay baby.”

“We’re gonna be gentle.”

They say sweetly, giving you adoring little smooches before they held you still in their grasp. They slowly begin sliding inside of you together, a heavy gasp leaving your lips as you clench your hands tight around your sheets in slight pain. Law’s cock had tore your hymen, causing you to you bleed out onto his length while he continued to slide into you. “F-Fuck~ Ahh~” You mewl out, your toes curling as the feeling of them sliding into you gave slight pleasure.

Both of them take it extremely slow for you, making sure you could endure the pain and take their dicks deep inside of your entrances. Groans left them both as you tightened around both of their lengths, sucking them in and pulling them deep inside of you. They slowly bottom out inside of you and stopped, giving you a few moments to adjust around them before anything else.

“God you’re so tight baby~” Law grows out, pressing his lips against yours and giving you a deep and loving kiss while you mewled out into the kiss. “Mmgh~ Y-You’re kissing my cervix~ B-Both of you are so deep inside of me~” You whined, sighing out shakily while they moan out in response.

They both slowly begin sliding their cocks in and out of your front and rear entrance, a moan leaving you as you felt Law’s cock smooching your bundle of nerves while Law’s doppelgänger went deep inside of your ass.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, your pussy is just as I imagined it~” Law moans out, his brows furrowing as your pussy enveloped his cock so wonderful. “Your ass sucking me in so easily~ God your body is so perfect for us~” He groans out shakily, hissing out as he begins thrusting up into your ass a bit faster. You hum out all sweetly and pulled them closer to you, moaning out oh so cutely while they fucked you so lovingly.

You press your lips against Law’s, kissing him deeply and mewling out into the kiss while he fucked your pussy. Law behind you slides his tongue against the back of your neck, smooching and suckling at the skin of your neck while he continued to fuck your ass so needily.

“F-Feels so good!~ Y-You both feel so good inside of me~” You whine out, holding on tight to Law while their thrusts grew faster against you. The bed had began to rock a bit hard as their thrusts grew harsher, squeezing you between their bodies while you threw your head back and moan out so shakily.

Both Laws continued to kiss at your body, huffing out heavily while the sound of their hips slapping against your harder. Law trailed his lips down your chest and begins suckling and biting at one of your breasts, making you whine out before you run your fingers through his strands. “Fuck she’s just feels like heaven~ I feel like I’m gonna cum soon~” Law hums out shakily, your velvety wall massaging his shaft so wonderfully yet sucking him in so deep.

“Her ass feels so good~ It’s so tight and warm inside~ I-I fucking adore it so much~” Law gasps out, his cock going deeper into you ass and making you gasp out.

“O-Oh~ Y-You both make me feel s’fuckin’ good~ P-Please keep fucking me like this!~” You begged shakily, holding on tight to Law and pulling him closer to you. Law sighs out heavily and presses a smooch to your lips before groaning out.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum~ I-I have to pull out~” Law groans out, shoving both you and Law down onto your back while he fucks your pussy with more intensity. “F-Fuck!~” Law’s doppelgänger gasps out heavily as you sink down a bit farther into his cock, his hands gripping your hips tight while he hissed out.

You moan out loudly and shut your eyes tightly, holding on tight to Law’s shoulders as his cock kissed your cervix so deeply. Law’s arms wrapped tightly around your smaller frame as he felt you close, his hips continuing to thrust up into your ass while he watched his original fuck your pussy into oblivion.

“Fuck! Fuck m’cumming!~” Law groans out and quickly pulls out of you, his hand jerking his cock before he moans out and releases out onto your tummy with a heavy groan. Law’s doppelgänger continued to fuck up into your ass, a groan leaving him while the original lied back for a moment to relax.

“M’cummin~ I’m gonna fill up your ass baby girl~” He hisses out, thrusting his hips harder up into you while you whine out in response. His hands pulled your knees up to your chest and he thrusts into you faster, a loud moan leaving you as you threw your head back and arch your back against him. “Oh!~ I’m c-cumming!~” You gasp out, arching your back while your toes curled tightly from the pleasure.

Law groans out loudly and slams his hips against your ass a final time, cumming deep into your ass and causing you to gasp out and squirt all over the sheets again. You cry out and trembled against his larger frame, your eyes brewing up with hot tears as you struggled to handle your orgasm.

Law sighs out heavily and slowly pulls out of your ass, a satisfied sigh leaving him as lied there and sighed out in exhaustion. You sigh out shakily and turned over to original, watching as he moves in close to you and buries his head between his your thighs.

“T-Traffy? What’re you doing?~” You ask to him but gasp out abruptly, feeling him press his lips against your pussy which causes you to moan out shakily.

“N-No more!~ I-I just came!” You whined out, your body trembling while Law gripped your inner thighs and held them open. Law trailed his tongue along his lips and begins lapping at your slit, your cum giving it a sweet yet bitter taste alongside the slight taste of iron. You whine out shakily and gasp out, your pussy too sensitive and overstimulated for you to endure for so long.

Law watched his original lap at your slit, suckling up your juices and over-pleasuring your cunt with unneeded stimulation.

“P-Please Traffyyyy!~ I-I’m gonna cum again if y-you keep g-going!~” You whines out, your tears running down your face as he continues to eat out your pussy so lovingly. He growls out and swirls his tongue along your clit before moving down to your sticky hole, sliding his tongue past your entrance and overstimulating your sensitive velvety walls.

His tongue nudges your g-spot, making you gasp out and whine out while you felt your lower tummy growing sore. “M-M’gonna cum again! P-Please! T-Traffy!~” You pleaded, arching your back and gripping Law’s strands while he gripped your thighs. “Cum baby~ Cum on daddy’s tongue~ I wanna fuckin’ taste you~” He groans out, sticking his tongue out to you and sliding it along your slit once again.

You whine out and wiggle your hips weakly before moaning out exhaustively, your pussy creaming on Law’s tongue while he moans out in satisfaction. He finally pulls away from you and huffs out, giving you a loving little kiss while you breathed heavily. Law slowly spreads your ass open and watched his doppelgänger’s cum spilled out of you, your body trembling with overstimulation while you lied there breathing heavily.

“God that was so fucking hot~ How was that for your first time?” He asked, staring down into your now sleepy eyes. “F-Felt…s’good~ I-I loved it so much~” You moaned out to him in response, a yawn leaving your lips as you struggled to stay awake. Both of the Laws press a smooch against your cheeks before pulling the blankets back onto your body, their bodies cuddling up and moving in closer against yours to keep you warm and to give you comfort.

“Get some rest my princess~” Law whispers to you, lying beside you as he stared down at your sleeping expression. Him and his original look to each other before the both laugh, happy to finally help take your virginity and make you feel so good in the process.

“I love you guys so much…” You whispered out to them sleepily, your works making them both smile widely.

“We love you too.”

“We love you too.”

They say in unison once again, their words being the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

They both watched as you fell back asleep, your expression just as cute as it was before. “She’s such an angel~ Can’t I stay around longer to witness how she is originally in your daily lives?~” Law asked his original, his hand propping up his head while he stared at the original. “If I can find out how that dude’s devil fruit works, I might be able to work something out for both you and me. Might be some medicines out there to support the power itself.” He replies, his hand playing at your hair while his doppelgänger chuckles.

“I don’t have much longer left before I disappear so, I guess I’ll be hanging until then.”

“That’s cool with me, maybe we could make love with her for you one more time before you disappear.”

“God, please do~ I enjoyed watching you two but I don’t mind doing the fucking either. Do you think I can fuck her pussy next time?”

“Yeah, I took her first so, I’m fine with it. You’re me and I’m you so I guess it wouldn’t matter afterwards.”

They both smiled before moving in closer to your body and wrapping their arms around you, keeping you nestled within their embrace before they both fell asleep afterward.