#and it was like instant tears LOL

[oozeandgoo-art]

had an odd dream that i was reading a comic book. sketched a couple of the pages i could remember.

[petrichal]

been thinking a bit about voice actors for One Piece, and there's the idea that searching for a replacement for any of the VAs would be difficult but the thing about being a long running series is that, there's SO many people who does impressions of them. Of course they're not a perfect 1:1 (*that's an impossible task) but if you could sound just close enough to how the characters originally sounded, that's just cool in my book

anyways here's kanipan as Luffy singing Binks' Sake which i still do a double take whenever i hear her voice

and here's a nico nico song medley of the "One Piece cast" (voice lookalikes) with rewritten lyrics to fit in the journey from the beginning until the end of Water 7 (someone said in the comments the original cast saw this and loved it, idk if its true though lol)

[izzy-b-hands]

I will be forever grateful i can be on this new med. it's one a lot of folks also need and can struggle to have access to! It's important i be on it, especially if i start doing any vid collabs

(some of which, really, all of which, i unfortunately actually need to cancel that were in the preplanning stages, bc the election results have me wanting to wait and see how the general atmosphere of the country is before i agree to meet up with anyone. I feel bad for cancelling, but also i just can't know for sure how safe things are/might be going forward and I'd rather avoid the potential of. ya know. various not great things that could happen at a meet up, tho i would certainly hope they wouldn't. i don't feel like actually addressing them rn, u guys know what i mean)

That said, if the truvada initial side effects could fuck off asap would be so lovely. three weeks at worst, then they should be gone/much better or so i am told. really hope that's true bc losing my mornings to being dizzy and nauseous is Not Working for me lmao. im on week two, and now understand why my new doc said to call if i needed any 'cheerleading' and support to get thru the side effects, bc apparently she's done that for several ppl to make sure they actually make it thru the three weeks and keep on it (lovely of her!!)

[tanjir0se]

Not to spoil the ending of my own fic but I just thought of a scene right at the end , after Sanemi and Genya have totally reconciled, after Sanemi and GIYUU have figured themselves out and all that’s left is wrapping up the GenTan.

Tanjiro is gonna grab Genya and give him a lil smooch and they’re gonna figure THEMSELVES out, and sanemi is gonna walk in on tanjiro smoochin him and he’s gonna say something to the effect of “hey! Get your paws off my little brother!” And it’s the first time he’s called Genya that in forever !!!!!! and Genya cries and tanjiro probably cries and me cries, and

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Class 1A boys random headcanons ──☆*:・ﾟ

MHA

Summary: random thing they do or say as your boyfriend*.•

Characters: Izuku, katsuki, Shoto, Tenya, Eijirou, Denki, Sero, Tokoyami, Aoyama, Ojiro, Sato, Shoji, Koji!

IZUKU~

He tries making you food just to be nice, but he doesn’t really know how so he just brings you something easy like instant noodles and say “it’s the thought that counts!”

He use to be insecure of his freckles and the only reason he isn’t now is because you kiss them all the time!

he draws you all the time, he hangs them all up in his room so when you hang out with him you tease him about being so obsessed with you which he blushes too

He lets you put his fluffy hair in pigtails sometimes!

He does a stupid dance everytime he beats you in something, a game, a training exercise or something like that. You say it’s cute which makes him flustered~

KATSUKI~

Claims he doesn’t cry at all but in reality he cries in front of you all the time, and ONLY you

He has some hearing loss from his quirk so sometimes he doesn’t hear you walking up to him so you have to kiss him to get his attention

He kisses the back of your hand, not to be a ‘gentleman’ or anything he is just too timid to kiss your face sometimes

His face is always so stern but when you two are alone his face soften SO MUCH. It relaxes into a small smile when he is alone with you

He lights candles for you with tiny explosions, sometimes it doesn’t work and he gets embarrassed for failing so he will just melt it instead! (You don’t really care but if you did he would get you a new one)

SHOTO~

he also lights candles for you, and it actually works. So he gets a bunch of candles for you just so he can light them all for you. He threw away your lighter so you have to ask him

He heats up his hands ever so slightly when he touches you to warm you up. You call him your heating pad LOL. He also gives you massages after training with warm hands as to not hurt you

He normally doesn’t want to even mention his scar but with you he literally asks to kiss it when he feels down about it~ which you always do!

He lets you paint his nails, he also does not care what colors. He just likes spending the time it takes to paint them with you, he normally gossips with you while you paint them~

TENYA~

whenever he is talking to you he sometimes gets so comfortable to the point he will speak incredibly fast! You have to put your hands on his cheeks and tell him to slow down

He reads to you, even if you say no he does it anyways. He says it’s for learning purposes but in reality he just wants to spend time with you

He tries showing off his intelligence with you. “Give me any equation and I am confident I will know how to solve it!”

He sometimes forgets he wears glasses, he falls asleep with them on sometimes so you have to take them off for him. Sometimes he puts his head in your neck but his glasses get in the way which makes him whine and tear them off so he could actually cuddle into you~

He’s so proud of you sometimes he brags about you at random times. “Have you seen y/n? Yeah we are DATING!”

EIJIROU~

He wants to give you love bites sometimes but he knows his teeth are sharp so he’s scared too

His quirk sometimes makes his hands and arms dry from overuse so he asks you what to do about it and you told him to just try moisturizer. he made you put it on him because he likes your warm touch! (Not in a weird way!?)

He lets you draw on him, it doesn’t matter if your bad at drawing or not he likes being your ‘canvas’ he says. As long as you let him draw on you too. It’s normally just dumb faces like ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ or something like that LOL

He is SO WHINY, like extremely whiny! Even in front of his friends, if he wants something from you he’s gunna whine till he gets it. “Y/NNNNNNNNNNN GIVE ME A KITHHHHH” “dude lower your voice people are gunna thing your weird *kiss*”

Whenever he is yapping to you about god knows what he sometimes stutters unintentionally which makes him stop talking for like 5 minutes due to embarrassment. “So t..th.Then…..” “Uhm you ok?” “…” “Your not gunna talk anymore huh?” “*Shakes head*”

DENKI~

he pulls the dumbest faces and then asks you if you still think he’s cute- like “hey y/n am I still cute?(o_O)” “no you look dumb stop it” “fine…”

He shocks you but not on purpose, in general he has so much static electricity coming off of him that he can’t control so sometimes if you reach to play with his hair you’ll get shocked. He apologizes over and over and ‘kisses it better’

He lets you put make up on him, you don’t even have to wear make up yourself and he’s down. You make him look like a princess and he loves it- “I’m beautiful!!!”

He’s very needy which is obvious. He gets so needy for attention that sometimes he will just follow you around school waiting for you to atleast hug him~

SERO~

He loves arts and crafts (LOL) he likes making home made cards for you instead of buying them from a store. He also likes building things with you like bird houses n such. He’s a great tape dispenser so he’s good at it☺️

He’s really good at puzzles so if your doing something like a rubix cube or just a normal puzzle and you get stuck he always helps you!

He leaves love notes for you everywhere, in your bag, on your desk, in your locker or even in your books. He isn’t the best with words but it’s still cute that he tries

TOKOYAMI~

He gets jealous of dark shadow, he always makes you laugh. So in return he banishes dark shadows for a while so he can have alone time with you (aka to cuddle)

He drags his beak through your hair instead of playing with it with his hands, he basically preens you but refuses to admit that’s what he’s doing-

He’s insecure, it is kinda weird that he has a bird head but you don’t let that get in the way. You cover his beak with kisses hoping it’ll make him feel better

He made you a necklace out of one of his feathers, now you wear it everywhere and people either think it’s adorable or cringy

I’ve said it before he is really fluffy so whenever you cuddle you start playing with his feather. He says he doesn’t care but if you don’t he begs you to. “Can you? You know?” “What” “You always play with my feathers?” “Aww you want me to play with your feathers!?” “Yeah.”

AOYAMA~

Behind closed doors he ditches the whole self centered thing and is fixed onto you. While you guys cuddle in privet you could hear him saying ��you are so very dazzling! Just as much as me~” or “you are like a shining star! So pretty…” (out of character again but IDC I headcanon him to be a sweetheart!)

Whenever he gets a stomach ache from overusing his power he MAKES you give him a tummy rub, he will force your hand above his stomach and wait for you to sooth him

He wears make up so he lets you do looks on him. If you do good enough he will wear it for the day but most of the time it doesn’t meet his standards LOL

Similar with nails, he lets you paint them whatever color you want and he will keep them on. He doesn’t care as much abt his nails then he does his face-

He loves when you play with his hair, like really loves it. Whenever you play with his hair or give him a scalp massage he just sits there like ^0^. Seriously his mouth will hang open without him realizing. You have to close his mouth manually with your finger

OJIRO~

He lets you play with his tail, you just pet it whenever you want but you have to be careful because his tail is a little ticklish. He will swat you away if it starts to tickle

He Carries your bags for you, he’s a gentleman like that! he does it just to be nice but if you insist on carrying them yourself he won’t stop you!

He sometimes jumps into your arms, as a ‘joke’ which is a lie. Sometimes he just wants to be in your arms! He also finds it hot that you are strong enough to hold him~

He likes when you guys match! Clothes or shoes n such! He thinks it’s cute and we wants everyone to know that y’all r dating!

SATO~

He finds it hot when you call him ‘big boy’ he understands that you don’t do it to shame him but it’s more to flatter him. Like you’ll be having a light breakfast and after he finished he was still hungry so you tease “oh we gotta get more food in you big boy~ wait here I’ll get more!” He blushes so hard over it

He crams his head under your shirt when cuddling, he just likes laying on your stomach ok!

He is a little insecure about his looks, and he is very honest with insecurity so he will just confront you like “y/n I don’t think I look that good today…help?” And you’ll do everything you can to help

Whenever he is injured he milks it so harddd, he will ask you to get him a blanket, or help him eat. “Y/n could you feed this to me? I’m too hurt…” “your arms are fine?” “I know”

He’s the kinda guy to peak over your shoulder while your doing something because he really wants to be apart of it but he’s to scared to ask😭

SHOJI~

The first time you saw his face he was soooo insecure it was really sad, everytime you asked he when like “I don’t think you want to see…this” or “well y/n it’s obvious it isn’t going to look good, it’s probably gunna freak you out”. When he finally did show you he was shocked when you pulled him closer claiming you wanted to “admire his beauty” closer~

Cuddling with him is the best!! He makes a little cocoon around you with his arms! Unless you want to hold him which he also loves!

He insists on holding things for you, everytime you say “I wish I had more hands” he goes “luckily I do!” And takes everything out of your hands

He gets cold easily so sometimes when y’all cuddle he gets freakishly cold and you have to bundle him up like a burrito. You cry over how cute his looks with his mask off in a burrito blanket <3

KOJI~

He talks to you on a regular basis but he almost always leans into your ear, cup it with his hands and whisper instead since he is still very shy, unless you guys are completely alone. Even for the simplest thing; “y/n…do you want water?” “Speak up babe-” “*squealing noise*”

Compliments kill him, like actually last time you called him cute he fainted

He asks you to deal with spiders in his dorm or anywhere. You capture them and release them tho because he feels bad if you just kill them

He leaves you flower petals in random places, you could be looking through your books and notice a flower petal in between two pages~

He back hugs you to cuddle, he’s to scared to be face to face and he’s scared he’s gunna hurt you somehow? You assured him he will never hurt you which makes him feel a little better

Wsg yall!!!! Anywayyyys Next post prob gunna be class 1B cuz again they need more attention 😔

Not proof readdddd!!

[longagoitwastuesday]

Oh my god Buckingham in insane (appreciative)

[juletheghoul]

The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to. 

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs. 

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing. 

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers. 

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes. 

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores. 

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it. 

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome. 

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company. 

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean. 

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off. 

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms. 

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born. 

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh. 

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly. 

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own. 

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you. 

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now. 

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts. 

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him. 

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

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Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[yaniluvs]

a song , that sounds like you

[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.

jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.

tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."

y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."

"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"

"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."

jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."

"you mean the peak of your laziness."

"same thing."

"you’re cooking today."

jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"

"you heard me."

"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"

"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."

jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."

"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his hoodie. "this is humiliating."

y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.

"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"

"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."

"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.

y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"

he clutched his chest. "ouch."

"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."

"it was one time!"

"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."

"i can do that," he said confidently.

y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.

"jisung."

"hold on, it's just being stubborn."

"you're literally supposed to—"

before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.

"…okay. that was aggressive."

y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."

"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.

she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."

"and yet you still keep me around."

"i really question why, sometimes."

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."

"debatable."

"wow. you wound me."

she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."

he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.

"see? improvement."

y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."

as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.

"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.

she glanced up. "at what?"

"everything," he said simply.

her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."

"honest."

she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."

jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."

"debatable."

jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"

y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.

except maybe it was.

because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.

and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.

the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.

jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."

"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."

"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."

jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."

yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.

and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.

the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.

the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.

she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.

y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”

jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”

but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.

when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.

she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.

she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.

“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”

his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”

“liar.”

their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.

jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.

he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”

y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”

“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”

she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”

jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”

“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”

she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”

he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.

“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”

jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.

“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her hoodie—his hoodie. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”

he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.

“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”

silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.

something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.

“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”

y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”

he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“i won’t.”

they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.

"marry me," he said, mouth full.

y/n gave him a look. "chew first."

he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"

"no."

jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."

"you are an idiot, man."

"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.

she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.

"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"

jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.

"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."

y/n laughed. "no way."

"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."

"did no one wake him up?"

"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."

she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"

jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."

her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"

"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."

"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."

"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"

he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."

she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."

he raised a brow. "ask what?"

"about my day, genius."

"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"

she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"

"a guy named sunwoo."

jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.

“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”

y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”

jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”

she snorted. “true.”

silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.

except—

“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”

jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”

she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”

jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”

y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”

yeah, okay. sure.

he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.

y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”

jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.

“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”

“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.

she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”

jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”

“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”

“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”

y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”

“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”

she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.

“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”

y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”

jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”

she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”

something unspoken settled in the air.

jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”

“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard.

jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.

“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”

y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

“dork,” she muttered under her breath.

and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.

"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"

she laughed, shaking her head.

soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.

"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.

y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."

"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."

"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."

jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"

"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.

jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."

y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."

"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.

she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.

jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."

the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"

"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."

yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."

she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."

"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."

she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."

"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."

she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"

she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."

y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.

jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."

yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."

"i’m right," he corrected.

she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."

he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."

she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."

jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."

another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.

jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.

yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"

"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."

she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."

y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.

and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."

jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."

y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."

the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.

she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.

"right. let’s clean up."

and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.

. . .

the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.

jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.

y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”

jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”

“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”

he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”

“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”

“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.

something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.

he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.

y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.

he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”

she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”

he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.

and then, he sang.

his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.

she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.

she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.

his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.

it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?

her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.

she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”

y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”

he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she said softly.

another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.

jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”

y/n tilted her head. “about what?”

“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”

“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”

y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”

jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.

finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”

her heart skipped.

“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just… our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”

y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”

“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”

together.

the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.

she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.

and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?

she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”

jisung blinked. “okay?”

“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.

“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.

she wasn’t sure if that was true.

because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—

there would be no going back.

and that terrified her more than anything.

. . .

sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.

it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.

“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”

y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”

“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”

they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.

“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”

jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.

she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.

and that was when it happened.

something… shifted.

it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.

jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.

the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.

and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.

it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.

it was slow.

deliberate.

his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.

the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.

the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.

jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.

and y/n’s breath caught.

it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.

but this?

this was new.

this was different.

she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.

and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.

slow. hesitant. but sure.

his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.

yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

and then, suddenly—

their lips met.

soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.

but then she leaned in.

and he did too.

and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.

jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.

her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.

he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.

his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.

as if asking, did we just cross the line?

but the thing was—

maybe there had never been a line in the first place.

maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.

their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.

his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.

she felt warm.

not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.

jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.

she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.

“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.

“kissed.”

jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”

silence. not awkward, but charged.

y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.

then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”

she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”

“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.

“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”

jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”

y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”

“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”

she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”

jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.

his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.

then, he whispered, “no.”

her breath hitched.

jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”

a beat of silence.

“…no.”

another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.

then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”

she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”

“that makes two of us.”

they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.

then—

jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.

slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”

she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.

jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.

she was warm.

he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.

the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.

the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.

jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”

yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”

“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”

she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”

and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[curlyfriesgalore]

"let it all out, baby."

you've been dating daisuke for a while, already growing accustomed to his body and behavior, but something was off. nothing break-up-worthy, far from it, but you're a little concerned with how quiet he's been in bed.

so one "night," when swansea is too drunk out of his mind, anya is busy caring for curly, and jimmy is doing fuck all, you and daisuke spend some quality time in your room, which miraculously survives the foam.

one thing led to another, and now you're giving him head. however, as much as you want to get lost in your lust, you can't help but focus on his face—not out of your usual affection, but to analyze him.

★ a smut-shot broken down into bullets with dialogue sectioned off into chat-format segments. [2,697 words]

☆ gen tags: post-crash. gn! reader is anya's intern, but your job isn't mentioned in the fic (it's just for lore's sake). daisuke is insecure in his masculinity (some angst). set in our year all because i reference one meme lol.

★ nsfw tags MDNI: dom reader. sub daisuke. fellatio and a handjob. neck biting and nipple sucking. so much whimpering!!!

[ahh, posting again because i found a fic i made for another character two years ago, so i decided to rework it! i was actually really glad to find this 'cause i've been wanting to write daisuke smut, but currently my nsfw drafts are all curly. art by washitquickly on twt —iris🌠]

daisuke squirms as you lap your tongue around the head of his velvety dick, your spit blending with his sweet and sour slick. he digs his gapped teeth deep into his chapped lip. his mouth is in a tight crease, eyes squished shut with brows deep in concentration, wrinkling his lightly pimpled forehead.

he looks so out of breath, yet zilch emerges from that man's mouth. you wonder if your skills have worsened since the crash. maybe it was stress? but no, you knew that couldn't've been the case. your licks have always made him involuntarily writhe in pleasure, and your breath alone was enough to make precum shoot out of his soft slit.

speaking of which, you did exactly that, and a high-pitched moan ensues, finally.

you groan along with him, feeling his clear fluid slide down your throat. when your voice vibrates its low hum, shivers trickle down daisuke's aching cock. it's enough for him to jolt, flutter his eyes open, and mewl out a squeaky whimper.

you look up in awe, expecting to see your loverboy in pure ecstasy, but your heart drops. all you see is his hand clamped over his mouth, eyes wide in horror: the farthest thing from rapture.

gently, you remove yourself, the sensation of smooth skin lingering in your mouth as a trail of saliva connects your lip to his tip. with your hands still on his thighs, you felt him tremble under your palms.

daisuke pulls his legs towards his chest, encasing them within his arms as he buries half his face into his knees. his brows dent into his temple. he mumbles what sounds like an apology and wipes his face against his hinge joints. worry washes away your arousal in an instant.

carefully, you unfold his arms, spreading his legs to reveal the gorgeous mess you so deeply love. you crawl on top of him, resting your stomach on his, feeling his liquid lather onto your abdomen as you softly cradle his chin, bringing his face to yours.

as you thumb away the tiny tears dripping down his acne-scarred cheeks, he carefully brings his gaze to you, revealing the sea of tears swimming in his dark eyes. daisuke looks like a sad puppy, hurt and desperate for his partner's forgiveness, yet you are unsure as to why he's reacting this way.

he tries to gulp down the cries congested in his throat, attempting to force an explanation, but his reasons refuse to be revealed. for a man who spoke so many words, he felt too embarrassed to say any.

so, rather than letting him hurt himself any further, you envelop his warm body in your arms. daisuke silently melts as you comb your fingers through his sweaty hair, caressing his scalp as you try to piece things together. you think back to all the times you guys have had sex.

time and time again, you remember how quietly he'd finish. no matter how intensely his body shook from your touch, nothing but a small sigh would leave his panting chest. daisuke could be a puddle of sweat, drool coating his chin, eyes rolled all the way back as he failed to wait for your cue to let him cum all over your stomach—and yet, the only thing missing were the sounds of his moans.

you didn't question it at first, assuming he was, ironically enough, a quiet guy in bed, but things weren't adding up.

whenever you sneak attack his sides, tickling the air out of him, daisuke would shriek as if he'd witnessed the murder of his favorite pokémon. his face contorts into the physical embodiment of the 'ash baby.'

then there was another time, a month before the crash, when it was jimmy's turn for movie night. the co-pilot pulled up with his favorite horror film, intending to creep the skin off of everyone, and it nearly did for daisuke. he screeched so hard, practically ripping your eardrums, and lunged himself onto you, toppling the others over like dominoes on the couch.

(you recall a very tired captain curly lecturing a sheepish daisuke, telling him to be more careful with his surroundings, as anya aided swansea's sore back while jimmy snickered to himself next to you).

countless times proved how reactive he was, besides the obvious fact that this man does not have an off button. so, for him to be completely silent during sex didn't make any sense.

well, he wasn't completely. you've heard his soft moans and hushed whimpers escape from daisuke, unbeknownst to him, but you knew he could be much louder than that.

like, hello? he's the daisuke juarez, the guy (in)famously known for talking on and on for days without fail; surely, he could groan the life out of his lungs.

because, clearly, he wants to.

he needs to.

but you didn't know why he was so adamant about being super quiet. you wanted an answer so you wouldn't have to constantly try to get a read on his suppressions. and, by the looks of it, you're about to get one.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you cup his face and caress his warm jaw. daisuke delicately places his hand on top of yours and strokes it back, rolling his thumb against your knuckles.

"can we talk now?" your question drifts into the soft rumbles of the ship.

daisuke carefully nods, one last garbled sob croaking out his throat before he responds, "y-yeah..."

"tell me. what's wrong, baby?" you ask softly as your hand dances around his face, your fingers tracing his features, wet from tears.

"um, do i..." daisuke pauses, briefly breathing in some much-needed air, "do i sound weird when i—y'know—uh, moan...?" he leans his cheek into your palm, and you feel the bumpy indentations in his skin flush into yours. his sights are set on everything but you.

your brows knit, but clarity relaxes the knot in your shoulders. "d'aww, baby..." you pout. "is that what this is?" daisuke, slowly attempting to match your eyes, purses his lips with another nod.

shaking your head, you bring his chin closer to yours, "no, no... not at all, dai." you press your lips into his pursed ones, tenderly transferring your love to him and relieving his tight kiss into its original plumpness. you pull away, resting your forehead against his, "i've always found them very cute..."

"if anything," you chuckle, "i wish you moaned more." finally, he looks at you, and you're met with wide eyes and lifted brows, "really?"

now it's your turn to quirk your brow. "of course, really! what makes you think i'd feel otherwise?" daisuke laughs at that and eats his lips, looking up at the metal ceiling as he sifts through his memory box.

"well- i don't know, i mean, back on earth," you catch a brief dullness in his gaze, "i once heard the girls in my class talk about how weird some guys sound when they moan, and like," daisuke drums his fingers on your forearm, "when i asked, they'd say any dude who sounded too much like them?" when he looks at you, he falters, "ach- how do i say it?"

your eyes narrow, struggling to understand that train of thought. daisuke frowned, not at you but at the following words, "it was something like 'oh! men who whimper are soOo icky to me' and 'dudes should sound deep, not like...'" daisuke winces, heaving a frustrated sigh as he continues to mimic those girls. "'...whatever weak subby boy bullshit that's been circulating online—' i know, it's stupid." he immediately stops when he sees your grimace.

you blink your eyes shut, shaking your head and sighing when you peel them open. "so," your hand wipes over your mouth. "you ended up adopting that?" you ask, tucking your thumb under your chin as your index rests on your bottom lip, elbow propped up on one knee.

"i mean, sort of?" daisuke moves his hands to rub circles on your bare sides, "when i realized that i moan like," daisuke air quotes, "a 'weak subby boy,' i got really embarrassed and well- forced myself to sound more like a man, i guess..." the shame in his face, apparent.

you hum, taking in the information as he continues to explain his insecurities. daisuke tells you all the times he's been egged on by his guy friends for how he sounds when he'd whine after getting hit by a baseball ball (when that shit HURTS for anybody, daisuke emphasizes) or how often his friend group would point out his squeals, joking about how he'd never get laid with a voice like that. the thing is, he consciously understands that his classmates are biased individuals, so daisuke knows that there's no real point for him to act all secretive with his sounds. but he can't help it. he worries that letting himself just... be himself, in this context specifically, might make you find him less attractive.

"hUH?!" you exclaim, making daisuke jump. you're so baffled that you grab his face and squish his cheeks with all the affection your squeeze can imbue. he looks at you, doe-eyed with lips puffed out like a fish. "i—first of all, what an absolutely shitty thing to say to your friend, let alone do it daily. and second of all, not every man moans the same. just 'cause yours is a little higher doesn't make you any less of one..." he attempts to defend them, wanting to say that they weren't that bad, but you hush him, reading through his lie before he could assess it himself. then, when you rationalize his insecurity, he tightens his lip, taking in your opinion as you continued to speak against the toxicity of his friends. noticing he's gone quiet, you rub his cheek, changing your tone into something much softer. "daisuke."

"yesh...?"

as your serious stare delves deep into his soul, you reassure him, "there is no one—and i mean, no one—in this universe that i love more than you."

"oomph, i shink your beftfriends whould be mhad if they hurd thath." daisuke jokes, and you roll your eyes, shushing him as you stifle your laugh, "hey, i'm being serious here...!" to which daisuke chuckles and nods for you to continue, mouthing an 'i love you, too.'

you sigh, "your whimpers... are the cutest, most adorable noises i'll ever hear in my life, and i don't want you to shut them up, ever. i mean it."

"mph- reallhy?" the innocence in his voice made you squish the sides of his face harder as you hummed in agreement, "really."

"i want to hear them," you take a moment to sit up, straddling his thighs as you wrap your fingers around his dick, it instantly springs. "over... and over... and over again." with every pause, you stroke him. your palm tugs at his cock from the hairs on his abdomen to his soaked tip. daisuke chokes out a gasp, his legs squirming as he gulps, "a-ah, fuck... baby." his body trembles, randomly jerking with every drag of his thick cock.

"nothing will ever change the way i see you," you press your lips onto his jaw, feeling the tiniest stubble. "how sweet you are, how handsome you look, or how good you sound to me." you trail kisses down his neck, and latch onto the edge of his adam's apple, nibbling a whimper out of him.

"if anything, your moans make me love you even more than i already do." as you peck along his chest, his whines squeal breathlessly, and his whimpers exceed his vocal cords. every compliment you throw at him sends his brain into autopilot.

"ngh, mh..." none of daisuke's words made any sense, his mouth melding into mush while yours formed dark hickeys on all his right spots. he was panting uncontrollably. looking down at you with those half-lidded eyes of his, ones leaking with so much love and lust. he grips the sheets with one hand while the other carefully combes through your hair.

your mouth was now at level with his nipple. you watch it harden in anticipation as he edges his chest a little closer to your lips, making you chuckle at how needy your boyfriend's gotten. "now, before i let you cum, i want you to be as loud as you possibly can be, okay? for me, baby."

he nods, loving your coos, but uncertainty nearly cockblocks him, "w-wait, babe, what if everyone hears me?" daisuke watches you huff a laugh, "like anyone's cared about us fucking before." you both chuckle, and daisuke relaxes, "oh right, hehe."

"even if someone hears," you lightly circle his nipple, the tiny bumps on its dark epidermis sliding so perfectly against your thumb. daisuke's dick twitches, already biting his lip at the sight of your tongue inches away from his chest's nub. you continue, breathing hot on daisuke's skin. "they get to know how beautiful my baby boy sounds in bed."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke's breathing gradually quickens at the heat. when you finally lick his nipple, his cry is instantaneous. it's the prettiest noise you've ever heard, pulling at your heartstrings as a rush surges through your abdomen.

you close your eyes and focus on stroking his dick with every lick you make, his adorable moans filling the air. the way you roll your fingers and wedge them on the damp head, massaging the precum out his slit, melts daisuke, turning him into a pathetic, panting puddle in your arms. he absentmindedly ruts into your hand out of pure pleasure, sliding his slick all over your skin.

soon enough, his whimpers peaked, his voice consuming the room. you knew he was reaching his high based on the synchronization of his thrusts and your pumps. bed sheets crumple under his fist, and his other hand no longer on your hair but on the small of your back, squeezing your waist as he tries to travel down to knead your ass.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"babe, i'm close...! i'm so close." daisuke blabbers between mewls, his hands clutching onto your hips for support. he spills all of him into your palms, creating a wet patch underneath his thighs. you intensify your already vigorous pumping, simultaneously pinching a nipple as you bite the other, "come on, baby... you're almost there." "i'm cumming—fuck— 'm cumm...ing, nghnghm! ohmygod...!" intense shudders siphon through daisuke's bloodstream, his whole body convulsing as he feels his milk bud, moments away from dripping out his sore slit. "let it all out, baby." you coo, tonguing his nipple with your wet love.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

with one final groan, his cum drenches your hand as he arches his back so far that it nearly sends you falling. all that fills your ears are the sounds of your boyfriend's sweet sobs, easing into an aching sigh.

after tugging his cock with a few more strokes, daisuke collapses further into the bed, his head lying so far back into the pillow that you can see his adam's apple bob after every gasp and gulp. your lips leave his nipple, and he shivers from the cold air hitting his wet skin.

as he's catching his breath, you stretch your back and crane your spine far enough to feel every bubble in your ligament pop down your bones. after rolling your neck side to side, you get a good look at daisuke, who is disheveled and disoriented.

you chuckle and lift his head up, daisuke's teary eyes akin to those of a desperate puppy. you bring your sticky fingers to your mouth, swallowing his sweetness, and daisuke watches, thirsty for a taste.

smiling at the drool dripping down his puffy lips, you bring your face to him, gracing him with a smooch. the kiss muffles his deep moan. his tongue explores yours, devouring his own dick with what lingers on your papillae.

daisuke pouts when you pull away, but before he whines, you wrap your hands behind his neck, sitting yourself up and pulling him into your chest. he sighs into the hug, embracing you as much as he physically can while you massage his wet and messy hair. you kiss his scalp and softly praise him for being such a good boy.

[i was going to expand on the post crash aspect but i got wayyy too tired. but know that the story was originally going to have an afab reader, where you ride daisuke till he cums inside you, so i'd then add a line about how you couldn't care less about getting bred 'cause you were probably dying on the tulpar, anyway 😭 so it was going to be a LOT more angsty. i also intended to write a segment (after he admits his insecurity) of him missing earth and the structure of a home so badly that he's developed a mommy kink, so i could use it later when you guys go back to sexing buuut oopsies. i'll save that for another time 🫠. —iris🌠]

[parfaitblogs]

never grow up ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you are at the age you never thought you'd live to. 

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff! tags: established relationship. (very brief) mentions of r not eating. depression. non sexual nudity. mention of a past suicide attempt. reader is codependent on spencer #anxiousattachment!! mini argument not really because he loves you a lot!!! please know your triggers ♡  word count: 2.2k a/n: this was a vent write. LOL! i think i switch tenses a lot in this? i tried to fix it. this is why we don't write fanfiction while we're crying!!! i love u i love u i love u and i am so so glad you are the age that you are!! continue to grow please!! life will become beautiful!!!

Depression is a funny thing.

Sometimes you are forgetting there has ever been a version of you out there that fantasised about death and longed for an escape from this world you deemed so cruel, so invasive. Other times, you are sat naked on the cold floor of your bathroom rocking back and forth, clawing at your skin and ripping hair out of your scalp because you are sobbing so ferociously. The world spinning around you and your cries, so violent, are making you lightheaded and you wonder if you pass out here if anyone will ever find you. 

Clearly, tonight, you are the latter.

It started as a small pit in your stomach that morning, that you braved through and ignored to the best of your ability, even as you said gentle 'no thank you's' to food offered by your co-workers and forced your brain to focus on work and not the never-ending abyss of dread in your abdomen. Then, it became a tear or two on your way home, that you vehemently wiped away and pretended was never there because it couldn't be. 

Then you were showering to get your mind off things — a stupid decision, really. For your brain was latching on to every awful emotion it had felt thus far today, and you were stepping out of the shower with an even heavier heart, and your hands were wrapping around your now goosebump riddled body, as you were sinking to the floor in a ball.

And maybe hours passed by you. Maybe days — it certainly felt that way. Maybe it was only a mere five minutes. But your loud sobs felt like they took an achingly long time to slow and quiet down, until they were falling into ugly sniffles of the snot on your face, and a raging headache behind your eyes. 

Loud sobs — scream sobs, really — had a lot of disadvantages. The aftermath feeling of embarrassment of screaming at your brain that refused to simply shut up, the scratch at your throat from every sound you ripped from it. The audio block it gave you from the rest of the world. For you truly were in your own universe when you were howling alone in the comfort of your bathroom walls.

So much so, that the familiar sound of a door opening and closing, and a bag being placed down by the side of it, went entirely unnoticed to you. Footsteps against your apartment's wooden flooring weren't picked up, nor were the first two knocks on your bathroom door. By the third, you were blubbering through saliva and snot, and you had heard it. Followed by a very gentle calling of your name, that had your heart clenching within your chest for a new reason. 

He had said he was coming home tomorrow. Which almost always meant he wouldn't be home for another three days, and so, in your mind, you thought bawling that night could be a secret kept between you and your tiles. 

Apparently not. 

He called your name again when you didn't reply, an added hint of desperation in his voice. Trembling, you stood, your limbs feeling as though they were creaking while you straightened them out. And you didn't bother about the towel sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, nor the pile of your clean clothes sitting on the countertop. In fact, you didn't bother about anything as a shaking hand twisted the doorknob and pulled it open.

In an instant, his worried frown deepened, and eyes that might usually drink in the sight of your naked body beautifully, now didn't wander further than the scarlet scratch marks along your neck — blood vessels risen to the surface from how fragile that part of you was. He exhaled, and took a hesitating step towards you. One you welcomed by remaining planted in your spot — you didn't know if you could move, though. 

"Can I ask what's wrong, or do you simply want a hug?" 

Both, you wanted to say. Both, but also neither. 

You didn’t say that. Instead, you said, "Hug."

He hardly took a second to register what you'd said before his arms were wrapping around you. If he found the slightly damp state of your skin annoying, he didn't comment on it. He didn't say much at all, as he enveloped you into his body, a hand securing itself on the back of your head, and his chin resting atop your head. 

Water dripped uncomfortably to the floor, splattering on the tiles and his shoes, being the only sound aside from your irregular hiccups and sniffles. His button-up was wet from your tears and your body, and you could almost hear his complaints about it, if this were any other day. 

Minutes passed, and even though you didn't want to, you pulled back, feeling his hands slip around to your waist and hold you benevolently. Your own hands reached up to your face to wipe away tears, an embarrassed laugh escaping your lips. 

"This is pathetic," you said, fingers digging into the corners of your stinging eyes. 

"How?" he asked you.

"I didn't think you'd be home to see me having a mental breakdown."

A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes appeared on his lips. "Well, I am." Fingers squeezed your waist reassuringly. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shrugged, wordlessly, your eyes dropping from his face to the damp spot on his chest from where your face had once been, heart stuttering. 

"We don't have to, honey," he said. "But it might help."

"I know it might," you muttered. 

He was silent, as were you. A few more beats passed between you two, before you were turning around to pick up clothes you had left for yourself on the counter. You didn't really feel any different under his watchful gaze as you dressed yourself. Accustomed to the act, or simply too overwhelmed with another emotion, you didn't know. 

He followed you into the living room when you walked out there, and he sat down next to you on the couch you curled up on. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and he lifted his head on each intake of breath you had, as if about to say something. But you never did. 

So, he took over.

"Did something happen today?" You shook your head, and he nodded his own. "Okay. This past week?" You shook your head again, because other than missing him while he had been stuck in Texas for a case, nothing had actually happened. 

You wished it had. Truly, you wished you had experienced a murder on your way to work, or a distant family member had passed away so you could blame this feeling on something other than memories simply resurfacing. 

You sniffled again. "You know," you began, voice thick and wobbly from the lump lodged in your throat. "When I was fourteen, I didn't think I'd ever be this old."

Your gaze lifted from your lap to look at him, and you let a helpless tear fall from one of your eyes when you locked eyes with him. He was confused, unsurprisingly so.

So, you continued. "I tried to kill myself. When I was fourteen."

He readjusted his posture, eyebrows falling into a more concerned state, and he was silent for so long you wondered if this was when he decided you were too much and too complicated for him to deal with. 

He didn't. "I didn't know," he said, instead. 

"I don't exactly advertise it," you replied, and even if it was an attempt at being light hearted, it fell flat. "I just realised I never thought I'd be this age," you continued when he hardly reacted, "and I've been really anxious and down all week, so I think that realisation kind of sent me over the edge."

"Are you happy you're at this age?" 

Hesitantly, but surely, you nodded your head. "I got to meet you."

His lips twitched, but a smile never crossed his face. "You should be happy for reasons more than just me."

"You are my reason for being happy," you argued. 

"And I'm glad to hear I make you happy, but I cannot be your only reason."

"Why not?"

"Because that's dependency." 

You short-circuited, and he sighed upon realising the way you were taking his words — maybe not the smartest thing he could've said to his still tear-stricken-faced girlfriend. 

"What I mean is you should have other areas in your life that make you happy. Not just me."

"I like my job," you mumbled, gaze relocating to your lap. "And my friends."

"Great," he said, and you could feel his weight shifting on the couch as he nudged closer to you. "As long as I'm not your reason for living."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You've been my reason for living since we started dating. Why is it different now?"

"I didn't know I was your reason for living until now."

"So if you are, then what? You leave me?" 

"No," his response was so immediate you were sure you could feel the whiplash, and he ran a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh. "I don't want to fight with you when you're like this."

"I don't want to fight with you either," you agreed, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "I'm sorry I'm co-dependent."

He didn't respond for a while, mulling everything you two had shared and now, your apology, over in his head. You sat, anxiously, as minutes ticked by until he was puffing his cheeks to let out air, and standing up from the couch. 

He turned to you. "I love you, you know that," he began, and even before he had a chance to finish, you were already drowning him out, world crumbling around you as tears welled back up in your eyes. Maybe if you weren't as emotional as you were that night, your vision wouldn't have already gone blurry, and your heart wouldn't be shattering in your chest already. 

"But?" you countered, a sob escaping you at the end of the word.

He froze at the sound of it, his eyebrows turning in to each other, "Sorry?"

"You love me, but?"

"I don't understand."

"I'm sitting here, sobbing really violently and I look hideous, and you've just discovered I'm co-dependent, and you don't like that about me, so now you're telling me that you love me, but this isn't going to work out, and I need to work on myself before I get into another relationship, and you hope I can find happiness, and—"

"—What are you talking about?" he cut your ranting off, blinking a few times, confused. 

"Is that not what's happening?" 

"No?"

"Oh."

You stared at him, and he stared at you, and you felt your heart slowly pick itself back up from the pits of your stomach, each piece mending itself back together. He wasn't breaking up with you.

"I wasn't going to say that at all. Please don't put words in my mouth."

"Sorry," you said, though it wasn't very sincere. He crouched down in front of you, hands finding your fidgeting ones to hold them.

"Can I finish what I'm going to say before you cut me off this time?" Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and so he continued. "I love you, and you know that, and I don't want you to think I'm upset or mad at you for being codependent. You're allowed to not know how to navigate a relationship. But—"

"—There it is—" he glared with no real heat at you, and your lips twitched "—Sorry."

"But I need you to communicate with me. I'm going to inevitably do things that upset you, because you're co-dependent. We need to figure those things out, because a lot of the time you will respond unhealthily, and knowing what I know now, I don't want to be a trigger in any way."

"You won't be a trigger," you mumbled, and he shot you a pointed look, and your shoulders deflated. "I just feel stupid communicating things like that. Like, oh, I'm sad because my boyfriend is out of state for work and he's super busy and not responding to my messages so I think he might hate me."

"That isn't stupid."

"Yes it is!"

He said your name, eyebrows risen, and he shook his head. "You're upset about something. That isn't a stupid thing at all."

"It feels stupid."

"Okay, well, how about the next time I'm away on a case and not replying and you miss me, which is what that crazy, sad, completely reasonable phenomenon is called, by the way, you communicate that with me, and you see how I respond?"

"What if you tell me to go fuck myself?" 

He didn't even need to verbally deny your words for you to know that that response was completely out of character for him. All it took was one simple look, and you were diffidently smiling and averting your gaze, mumbling a quiet, "Okay."

And yes, the next time he was out of the state and you missed him, as he so kindly put it, you told him. And he spent three hours on the phone that night with you, reassuringly expressing how much he loved you, and how little he hated you.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[ch3rrybbie]

hii since you're taking requests could you write something with azriel? maybe something where reader is bonding with Lucien over unrequited mates (except azriel doesn't know they're mates, it has only snapped for her) and she thinks he wouldn't want her but he totally does and is super jealous and then happy ending lol. thanks!

Afterglow

Warnings: angst, reader is depressed?, mentions of canon violence

Note from author: tysm for the request, uni is being uni atm so struggling to write so quick lol but I hope you love itttttt will try get other request and next Randall part out heheh.

———

Lucien had to take you to the great open of the spring court. He was desperate to console you. His worry was etched across his face and yet you felt nothing.

So he sat beside you and waited.

———

You started off into the vastness of the green. Breathe. If you squinted a little the scenery grew blander and reminded you of the mortal lands.You thought back to how this pain had grown.

Your mother had always warned you love made you weak. She saw how deeply you loved Feyre at such a young age, you’d go tripping over branches just to be near her. She saw that if that was how much you loved a friend , to truly love someone would almost certainly destroy you. And human turned fae you felt how much the bond was too heavy to carry.

Your love for Feyre took you north of the border, you were by her side through every fight. Fists clenched and teeth bared. She was your sister and you fought like it. You’d seen every turn of leaf with her and you were so ecstatic to see her reunited with her blood sisters with a baby on the way truly, finally happy.

Yet you were in despair.

———

You, Feyre and Lucien had an instant bond. You rode all over the spring courts, ate, danced and laughed together. Tamlin however, your lip curled at the thought of him.

After being whisked away to the house of wind you remember the exact day you met the cause of all this hurt.

You’d suddenly felt a presence coming, you turned to Rhysand and demanded to know who was here. Both Feyre and Rhysand were stunned as you were still human. Then he approached alongside Cassian and you could barely tear your eyes away. Your heart knew him, your soul , your very being.

And yet he was nothing but sterile towards you only relinquishing a firm nod. Cassian on the other hand swept you up like a mighty warm wave telling you he’d heard lots about you.

———

Months later when your mission to Hybern went disastrously wrong the pain of seeing Azriel broken and dying on the hard stone floor made you want to sweep him up into your arms. All splashing and screaming from Nesta and Elaine had been tuned out you couldn’t help but stare at him breathing cinched. You tried shouting down whatever feeling you had but nothing. Your eyes urged him to get up, look up anything.

“Bring her”, the king lazily waved his hand at you. His men dragged you by your hair, you writhed and screamed.Closer and closer they dragged you level with Azriel and the others. The great hall span and they slammed your head against the stone, chaos ensued with Feyre screaming and Elaine wailing.

In your blurred state you opened your eyes to see shadows and a scarred hand straining your way.

You awoke the freezing water. The cauldron was somehow ice and fire it burned and cooled. It was life and death itself. You prepared yourself to accept the latter.

The mother lent down and kissed your eyes,she bound her blood to yours and gave you a gift.

You didn’t remember much after that.

———

You were in a coma for many moons, Feyre and Rhys sent for healers across the land mostly because your gift from the mother had shown itself. Your longing for home had caused the room they rested you in to be flourishing. It was a sight to behold even Nesta admitted.

Great roots twined around the bedposts, ivy curled around the door, moss and wiry grass shot up from the carpets and flowers bloomed. Elaine took to maintaining your garden, Nesta read to you and Feyre wept over you and stroked your hair. When Lucien had arrived to court he ran straight to your room and shadows seemed to watch over you in everyone’s absence.

Everyone did their part in looking after you, everyone but Azriel.

Throughout your sleep, the flowers rustled, grass weaved its way up to you and roots kept watch. All whispered the events around you, another odd gift of the Mother.

The day you awoke you wasted no time in searching for Azriel, the last you remembered he was dying. You followed the great rope in your soul that had replaced the string that previously tugged you to him.

The study was still and beautiful as you remembered, more so in his presence. His wings grew taught as he sensed your presence. “I’m awake” you couldn’t help but proclaim.

He turned, “I can see that” he coldly threw back.

Your world crumbled, even as fae he couldn’t love you or even feel more than indifference.

He brushed past you, “I shall alert the others”.

You shoulders sank, and yet your heart warmed at the thought of seeing everyone. After an hour of being grabbed, hugged and kissed. You’d all shed as much tears as you could. Feyre and Lucien offered to walk you to your room.

Before you slipped into your room you couldn’t help but ask, “Is he okay?l”. They didn’t even need to ask who, Luciens face softened and Feyres grew taught.

“The past few months have been hard for him Y/N”, Feyre gently lay a hand on your shoulder.

You attempted to be sympathetic before losing control of your temper, “And it wasn’t hard for me?! The least he could’ve done was visit once!” You threw the great oak door to your room open and slammed it in their faces uncaring of how juvenile you were being.

“Y/N” Feyre pleaded, you heard Lucien pull her gently away stating you needed space.

You allowed your anger to flow out of you, translating into great black ropes of thorns growing everywhere and they bowed out of the way of no one but you. That’s not to say everyone didn’t try. One by one they knocked and burst in, only to be defeated by thorns which was entertaining for awhile until you realised yet again everyone came but him.

You send crawling ivy about the house searching for him. It found him in the garden with Elaine, you let it shrivel and die there. You didn’t care who saw anymore.

The thorns grew sharper.

———

Lucien burst in one afternoon he didn’t speak a word, he barelled straight to you. Strands of his fiery hair and drops of blood left in his wake. He grabbed your wrist dragging you out of the fetal position. He winnowed you to the only place he had ever truly seen you happy.

Spring court.

———

“She’s gone!” Feyre cried panicked as she burst into the study. Rhys rushed to her as Cassian and Azriel shared a confused glance.

“Who?” Rhys questioned.

“Y/N, Lucien went up to try coax her out and they’re gone”

Rhys and Cassian froze anticipating Az’s reaction.

Azriel stormed out the room with Cassian not far behind.

“Az where in the cauldrons name are you going we don’t know where she is yet”

“I don’t need to know” he spat back

Cassian gripped his shoulder, “Don’t be stupid” he chastised

“What if it was Ness”

Cassian let him go stunned into silence.

Rhys informed Az mentally you were in the spring court offering to winnow him but he was gone and soaring towards his heart.

———

Lucien carefully started to talk from beside you.

“We were so happy here so I just- , I don’t know I thought I could force that joy back” he looked at your mournful gaze and sighed.

“He’s your mate isn’t he?”

Your head snapped towards him, Lucien could’ve sworn the grass did too.

“Elaine is mine”

The wind stopped and the grass stood still.

You said nothing crawling closer and laying your head on his shoulder, you felt at home.

You felt like a child again.

Tears blurred your vision and you let them slip.

The wind resumed, grass swaying peacefully.

“You know I’ll always love you Lucien no matter what, I mean not like that but you know”

He roared with laughter making you jump and burst out laughing.

You both calmed and watched the vast fields you could’ve sworn you heard the roars of Tamlin in the distance. He stayed away nonetheless.

You rested your head back on Lucien’s shoulder and your tears swelled again.

“What do we do?” you mournfully asked him.

You felt him breathe in sharply before cutting out

“I don’t know” a pause, “but I know you can’t do what you were doing we’re worried about you and rightfully so, I mean you’re been down right lazy. And so cliche, come on thorns-“

You cut him off shoving him over, you never would get used to the new strength you had.

You saw the playful glint in his eye and lept to your feet sprinting away he gave chase and you were back to where you started running around fields being chased by one of the platonic loves of your life. You wished Feyre could happily be here again.

But you finally felt happy again.

Truly.

———

Azriel no longer had to sense your presence he heard your giggles from afar. What he saw made his fists curl. Lucien had grabbed you and started spinning you around. His fury pushed him to land with an earth shattering crack.

He advanced on Lucien as he dropped you in confusion.

“Azriel what are you doing-“

Lucien fell to the ground as Azriel shoved him with thankfully not all of his might.

You surged forward to come between the two. Azriel felt as though the reedy grass was wrapping around his legs.

“What in the cauldron are you doing?!” You yelled, fury sounding across the clearing.

Lucien’s eye squinted as he assessed the situation a slow smile crept onto his face, “I’ll leave you two to it”.

He disappeared.

Azriel still seemed furious, “You can’t just disappear like that Y/N you scared us half to Hybern and back”

Your rage was once again summoned , “Do not delude yourself into thinking you care for me Azriel”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He spat back

You felt your hands start to shake with anger coursing through you, all this time he disregards and runs from you and NOW he wanted to play possessive.

“You do not get to turn up and demand me to stay at your beck and call when half the time you fly out any room I enter! Shouldn’t you be guarding Elaine or finding places to hide from me”.

Shame finally dared cross his face and he turned from you. His shadows grew more agitated. They retracted from being near you, their proximity startling you.

You turned on your heel and marched into the woods, you needed to get away from him. Before your rage turned into a confession.

“Y/N” you heard him mutter.

You fell into a soft march that was further percussioned by his footfall.

Great knarled trees lining the meadow attempted to stop him from entering the dense forest but he pushed through his shadows staying a whisper away from you.

His shadows didn’t bother reporting back to him.

He knew where you were.

Hunched over the pool of starlight he could’ve sworn you’d crawled out of it,the softening sun cast a glow through the dense trees, a fallen star had come and somehow stolen his heart.

He didn’t even want it back.

———

The pool transfixes you, Feyre had shown it to you during your time there and it soon became your private diary. Little whispers you’d let skim across the surface and lift the weight from your shoulders. When you met the inner circle and came to know Velaris you were so sure you were home. That the stars had listened. You were now sure they must’ve forsaken you, ripped out your heart and replaced it with a dying star.

You paid no mind to the crunch of leaves, you’d already felt him follow you there was no need for him the make his presence known.

“Go home” you spat coldly eyes not lifting from the pool of starlight.

“Come home with me” he gently offered.

“My home is closer to here than I ever thought it could be in Velaris” you muttered.

His hurt was palpable.

Good.

As Lucien just did he relented and came and sat next to you in silence.

The dying star inside you was getting darker with the realisation you’d always feel like way about him and you couldn’t have a mortal lifespan this would be generations of hurt.

So you spoke.

“Why Azriel, why are you here who sent you” you muttered dejected.

“No one. I-….” He trailed off lost thought, jaw clenched with the unspoken.

“Tell the truth” you sighed.

“Please just for once in all the time you’ve known me give me something” you begged.

He looked back over to you, wind brushing over you how he longed to.

He steeled himself, guard finally dropping.

“I was so afraid watching you that day”.

Silence as your brow furrowed.

“Your human body was so fragile, tossed around like blown sand.” Eyes tearful and locked on you.

“And I had to lie there dying and watch you almost die and that was a greater anguish than anything they could’ve unleashed on me”. He sighed as he saw you squint at him.

You stood angrily finger pointed at him as Nesta did. He couldn’t help his lip twitching,you really were one of them.

“If this is some ploy to bring me back to Velaris you will find you’re sorely mistaken in its use.” A great seething hiss of air spat at him.

He couldn’t help but laugh, only you could take a confession with suspicion. From almost crying to the woman he loves to laughing in her face, could this day get any worse?

“You jest?! I laid in wait of you for seven moons Azriel and you were nowhere to be seen! Lusting after Elaine I suppose” A dry laugh cut from your mouth.

All humour abandons him

“Is that what you suppose?” He huffed.

He rounded on you and stood towering, gathering the patience he needed to confess.

Patience found he continued.

“I couldn’t bear to see you laid there unmoving” he breathed deeply he looked furious. “I’d only just recovered so I sent my shadows although I suspected they were already watching when I couldn’t”.

Your face softens. Shoulders sagging.

He continues, breaking those walls you so flimsily held against him.

“For that I apologise, I should’ve been there no matter how much it hurt. I was with Elaine because her gardening reminded me of you the most” he smiles “after you so spontaneously decided to decorate it was the closest thing I had to you, the only thing of you I could touch”

Your lips part in want.

“I have wanted you from the moment I smelt you, and when I saw you my fate was sealed” he smirks at your lust struck face, hand going to cup it.

“Why not tell me?”

“I saw how well Elaine and Lucien’s discovery went” he smoothed his fingers against your lips.

You seized his hand, “I felt it when I was human, I felt you when I was human and I always will”.

Tension was strung like the fireflies now floating above you as dusk encroached.

He smiled and crushed his lips to yours in what felt like a thousand years of longing.

You both drew back just staring at each other,relief blatant.

“Let’s go home” his eyes pleaded.

“Sure” you smile

“I’ll cook” you smooth hair behind his ear as his eyes widen.

“Are you sure?” He asks warily.

“I tell you I’ve known you were my mate when I was human and you question me?” You laugh heartily.

“Now move it bat boy” you march off with a smirk.

He has no choice but to follow his heart.

And come up with an apology and thank you for Lucien.

[playnextdoor]

im sick

summary: vi helps you when your sick

cw: mentions and descriptions of throw/throwing up for my emetophobes, mentions of food that caused said sickeness lol, domestic (?) vi, she is very sweet yay, this is very short

You jolt awake, drenched in sweat, the taste of bile pooling in your mouth. For a moment, everything feels blurry until the sudden urgency hits you. You barely notice Vi sprawled out beside you as you clumsily crawl over her and bolt for the bathroom. The commotion stirs her instantly.

“Hey—wait, what’s wrong?” she calls out groggily, already moving to follow you.

By the time she reaches the bathroom, you’re hunched over the toilet, your hands gripping the porcelain as your body convulses. The sound of you retching echoes off the tiles.

“Shit,” Vi mutters, panic lacing her voice as she turns and rushes out of the room. She’s back in seconds with a towel and a glass of water, setting them on the counter before kneeling beside you. Her calloused hands are gentle as they push stray hairs away from your damp face. “Let it out, babe,” she murmurs, her other hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “You’re okay. Just let it out.”

Your body heaves one last time before the sickness leaves. Gasping for air, you shakily reach for her hand. She’s already there, steady and solid, helping you stand. Without a word, she dampens the towel and gently wipes your face, her touch so careful.

“I think it was that burger we had earlier,” you croak, wincing as you rinse your mouth out at the sink.

Vi watches you closely, her brows furrowed with concern. “Yeah… probably. You’ve been off all day.” Her voice is quieter now, as though speaking too loud might overwhelm you.

You stare into the mirror, water dripping down your face. Tiny red dots bloom under your eyes, blood vessels burst from the force of throwing up, a grim reminder of how your body puts so much force in this thing you would avoid any day.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” you whisper, voice shaky.

She shakes her head, stepping closer. “Don’t apologize. Drink some water.” Her hand cups your damp face as she raises the glass to your lips, her thumb brushing over the faint red freckles on your cheek. She watches you drink slowly, watches you wince as the bitter aftertaste of bile fades under the coolness of the water.

“I know you hate throwing up,” she says softly, her eyes never leaving yours.

You nod, managing a weak smile before your stomach churns again. “Too soon,” you mutter, and before you can stop yourself, you’re back at the toilet.

Vi is there in an instant, one arm wrapping around you to keep you steady as the other supports your weight. “it’s okay,” she whispers, even as your body shakes violently. “I got you.”

When it’s finally over, you slump against her, tears and snot streaking down your face. You’re a mess, and you know it. You hate when she sees you like this.

“I should’ve warned you…” you mumble through ragged breaths.

“Hey, stop that,” she cuts in, her voice firm but kind. She helps you to your feet again, guiding you back to the sink to rinse your mouth before coaxing more water down your throat. This time, she waits, watching you carefully to make sure you’re not about to hurl again.

When you finally make it back to bed, you collapse into the sheets, still trembling. “Stay with me,” you whisper, the words soft and desperate.

She grins, trying to lighten the mood. “Like I’d go anywhere.”

Before you can reply, she’s yanking the thick blanket from beneath you and tucking it snugly around your body, cocooning you in a makeshift burrito. Your head and feet poke out from the folds, and you pout up at her as she adjusts the edges.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she teases, pulling out a warm compress and placing it gently on your forehead. “You need to rest.”

“But I want to kiss you,” you whisper, your lips curling into a weak pout.

Vi smirks, leaning in close, her breath brushing against your cheek. “You’re cute, but also gross. I don’t need whatever you have.”

You groan, turning your head away, trapped in your blanket prison as she crawls into bed beside you. Her messy pink hair spills across the pillow, and the sight of her, so effortlessly beautiful even now, makes your chest ache.

“I’m sorry…” you murmur again, your voice soft as you glance at her.

She chuckles, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose. “No more burgers,” she whispers, settling in beside you and pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“No more burgers,” you agree, letting your eyes flutter shut as her warmth seeps into you.

a/n: i wrote this to help me cope that i have no one taking care of while i threw up my insides last night. yeah.

[betterthanyalls]

Can u do a Reader x epic various where y/n is apart of Ody's crew and during the end of thunder bringer Zeus kidnaps y/n and takes them to Olympus instead of letting them either drown or get washed up onto Calypso's island?🥰🥰🤩🤩 It'd be cool if during God games or something Athena finds out what Zeus did and now instead of the games being just to free Ody from Calypso's island, it's ALSO about freeing y/n from Olympus and reuniting them with Odysseus?? Sorry if this doesn't make sense or if it's too much work lol, just write this however you want if you even wanna write it at all teehee ^^"

blinks i think i went through 37 different emotions while writing this, most of them were bad. Ok so, I'm not sure how good this is but please don't kill me😇 TW: Zeus gives reader Ganymede treatment

Part 2

Masterlist

Stolen Soldier

Various (kind of) x Reader

EPIC: The Musical ~ Oneshot ~ Angst

Words: 1.6K

Published: 11-4-2024

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

Thunder roared, winds whipped, and waves rocked the lone ship back and forth. Standing on the bow of the ship was a figure of divine power and presence, waiting with a wicked grin. “Choose,” the king of the gods demanded harshly.

“Choose?” Odysseus muttered, looking at Zeus in fear. “Someone’s got to die today, and you have got the final say. You,” he pointed to Odysseus before gesturing to the rest of the crew, “or your crew.”

The captain looked to his crew, locking eyes with Y/n—his best friend, his rock, his shelter. He took a shaky breath, looking back to Zeus in desperation.

“Please don’t make me do this; don’t make me do this,” Odysseus begged. His mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. Looking back at his crew, he saw a range of emotions: anger, hurt, terror, grief, and more. Taking a daring glance at his closest friend, the soldier felt his heart shatter. Holding back tears, Y/n gave him a hesitant nod to show it was ok.

Then, a new voice tore his gaze away from his crew. Looking out over the sea and to the clouds, a figure of familiarity seemed to take place within the clouds. Illusion or not, that was his wife.

Penelope. Odysseus took staggering steps across the shaking boat and to the edge. Both of his hands latched to the wooden railing, his eyes never moving from the clouded position of his partner. Memories flooded his judgment, from his crew and Y/n, to his family waiting for him. “Captain?” A voice of uncertainty spoke up. Eurylochus. The said captain couldn’t even dare face his right-hand man as the sky darkened and Penelope faded back to the clouds.

“I have to see her," Odysseus whispered, tears brimming in his eyes as he finally looked back at his crew. The general saw all of the hurt and betrayal in his men’s expressions. The fear hurt the most to see. “But we’ll die,” Eurylochus pleaded. Odysseus knew he would regret this option until his final breath. Once he got home, how would he tell Ctimene he was the cause of her husband's death? “I know,” Odysseus’ voice broke, a few stray droplets not belonging to the storm washed down his cheeks. 

At the end of those words, the thunder roared, and Zeus grinned evilly. Zeus rose above the clouds, lightning moving to gather in his raised hand.

“Thunder, bring her through the wringer.” The crew drew their weapons in defense, charging towards Odysseus with murderous intent. Y/n stood away from the fight, not daring to lift any sort of weapon against her best friend.

“Show her I'm the judgment call. The one who makes her kingdom fall. Lightning, wield her, use and yield her.” 

As the crew closed in on their captain, the air started to become tense and electrified. Y/n took a step back from the chaos, looking up to see a phenomenon of heavenly power. “Show her what she can’t conceal; her true nature will be revealed.”

A bright light enclosed the surrounding sky, ripping down to the center of the ship. In an instant, a deafening crack sounded, and all light faded to black. Y/n felt like her soul was being ripped apart as she opened her mouth to scream her pain, but no noise came out. Then she felt a drop, only to be brought into a suffocating embrace of cold. Finally, her mind cut out. ~~~~~ Y/n felt different. She didn’t sense the shivering water anymore, but instead a subtle warmth. It took a few minutes, but eventually she managed to peek open her eyes. Y/n wasn’t on a ship in the middle of the sea with the night sky above anymore, but instead there was a grand painting on the ceiling of white marble overhead. Looking around slowly, the young woman saw an unfamiliar scene.

A lavish bedroom surrounded her, furnishings a king could only dream of sitting like average decor in each nook and cranny. Moving her hands, Y/n felt the silk sheets of a glorious bed below her. Ivory blankets fell from her body as she slowly rose up from her position. Placing her feet on the cold marble flooring, the mortal stepped through the room. It wasn’t long before she found herself in front of a floor-length mirror. 

White and gold fabric draped down on her body—a dress fit for a goddess of divine origin. Confusion clouded her eyes as she scanned her new attire. That puzzlement was quickly replaced with fear as two wooden doors opened, revealing an even more confusing sight.

A tall man wearing a white toga entered the room without a care of knocking. Striding to where Y/n stood, she instinctively took steps back from him. “My dear, why do you back away?” The smile on his face was unnerving, especially with the nickname. Y/n recognized that voice immediately, terror coursing through her veins as her lips parted to let out a gasp.

“Zeus.”

The god in question continued to walk towards her with that two-faced smile until he backed the mortal into a wall. “Mmm, you’re as smart as you are beautiful,” he took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Y/n shuddered in disgust and fear; her heart raced faster than a chariot racer's steeds. She wanted to push him away, but her body felt locked in place. Y/n tried to speak, but her lips were closed tightly like a stone wall. “Hm, dear, I think I know a dress that’d fit your body much better. Let me help.”

~~~~~

Within only the second morning of the Heavenly Palace, Y/n had the overwhelming urge to jump off. But she wouldn’t be allowed such a pleasure with the god at her side. Zeus had taken it upon himself to guide the mortal on a tour through Olympus, which only influenced her thoughts. 

Y/n kept her eyes on Zeus every second. Not out of intrigue or anything of that sort, but of apprehension. Each movement of his that was near her direction, the mortal would tense up and pause everything. Soon enough, the king of Olypmus noticed and grinned with faux comfort. “Dear, you seem tense. Allow me to ease you.” ~~~~~ Day after day. Weeks after week. Zeus never let Y/n leave his side, threatening any god or goddess who even dared to give her a sympathetic glance. The woman was a shell of who she once was. Her eyes sunk and her soul depleted; she felt her life draining by the day. Not in mortality-wise, no Zeus would never let her perish. But in consideration of her spirit.

Each night she would cry until no more salt would leave, leaving only choking sobs. Each night she was infiltrated by the king of Olympus. Y/n would stare at herself in the mirror, vomit building in her throat as her eyes trailed down to every mark on her body. No spot was untouched. No matter how hard she tried, Y/n could never wash off the sin. The mortal would scrub her skin until she was raw and bleeding, but the phantom touches remained.

Each night she missed her home and friends more and more. Where was Odysseus now? Did he forget all about her when he returned to Ithaca? What about Penelope? Would she miss her best friend? 

Seven years. Seven years of misery, force, and agony. Seven years of physical and mental torture she endured to no fault.

But soon, like all stories, her savior arrived. ~~~~~

Athena stood in front of her father, spear and shield in hand, while staring into the king’s eyes murderously.

“I’ve played your game and won. Release them,” the goddess of wisdom demanded, shifting her gaze to where Y/n stood anxiously beside Zeus’ throne. The mortal had gone through so much, and Athena was determined to save her. 

Zeus glowered down at his daughter, rage covering his expression. “You dare to defy me? To make me feel shame?” He growled, his fists clenching so tight that his knuckles turned a bright alabaster. “No one beats me; no one wins my game!”

The lightning god stood up threateningly, his hands glowing a static yellow. “Thunder, bring her through the wringer!” The air was caught in Y/n’s throat at the familiar words, her eyes wide in horror. Zeus rose up, the electricity in his hands growing as the woman noticed the alarmed looks on the other god’s expressions. “Show her I’m the judgment call, the one who makes her kingdom FALL!” With a vociferous burst, he threw the lightning at his daughter, forcing her back onto the floor. Once the light faded, everyone looked to see the warrior lying face down, her body still as ice. “Is she dead?” the voice of her brother Ares asked hesitantly. Y/n thought back to every moment her and Odysseus had been with Athena. They were an unstoppable force together. Now though, Y/n only wanted to rush to the goddess side.  Before anyone could do anything, Athena struggled to her feet, holding her aegis in defense while pointing the spear tip to her father.

Zeus’ look of utter shock soon turned to rage at her defiance. In response, he sent a barrage of bolts towards his favorite child. Against this attack, the war patroness held her shield strong and pushed against the force, making her way to her father.

Finally, at the feet of the king, she grabbed his arm and fell to her knees.

“Let them go, please. Let them go.” Her plea was finished as the goddess collapsed, her breath slowing to a stop.

[ladybyakuya]

| ALL I WANTED + GOJO SATORU .

+cw. — female!wife!reader x clan-head!husband!(sub)!gojo satoru, arrange marriage, hurt, angst, canon typical elements, smut, f!masturbation + m!masturbation & orgasm interruption.

+wc. — 2.3k

+syn.— satoru comes home from a bunch of missions only to find his wife in their shared bedroom not wanting him, or waiting for him but busy seeking pleasure that was his share to pour into you.

+notes. — special thanks to @gojoest for hyping me up with this idea. & thanks to @sugurouge for beta reading otherwise this never get posted lol | redirect to blog navigation.

The current head of the clan you belong to, your father stands facing his back to you. He is now the housemaster, not your father. “You’re going to be married,” said he, as his palms remained tightly clasped at his back while he looked out through the window. What you once called home became a distant memory in an instant. “You’re going to be married—” as his face turned towards you, “to Gojo Satoru.” you could figure out why he was looking away. “That monster!” he screams tears streaming down his face as his lips tremble in rage and disbelief; how of all people did the marriage broker who has been his friend for a long time have even agreed with such a decision? The thought of him suggesting the idea to the council does not even cross your father’s mind. How utterly naive! a low grunt followed as your father swatted away his chair knocking it down to the ground before killing every bit of hope you had despite the rumors. “This marriage. . . it is nothing but a hopeless dream. ”

Yes! You knew that already. The housemaids and staff just love to gossip about the doom of their sole source of bread and butter. The moment your father summoned you into his study room and told you the news while staring at the greenery of the garden of this mansion you knew your life was going to turn upside down and it did, just like you expected yet you were still disappointed, frustrated even when you came back to your room. 

Satoru Gojo is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history ever known since Sukuna Ryomen was sealed. No other name has ever made it to the pages of jujutsu history. He is at the top of the jujutsu society regarding status, power, fame, and money. So, what do you do with the strongest of all? worship them out of devotion? subdue them with offerings lest it might lash out? swearing loyalty out of fear? Those were the thoughts that stemmed at the back of your mind when you first came to know about the fact that you were going to be the wife of the Gojo Satoru from a maid whose life never even crossed the threshold of your home. Her world was limited to the mossy parts of the mansion you resided in. Still, she could tell what kind of marriage you would be walking into.

Nothing shocking happened even on the night of your wedding. It was just as you anticipated. Two different futons were kept side by side. There was no sharing of words, glances, or kakebuton . Just both of your backs faced each other. At dawn, you woke up with your wedding kimono intact, a stainless white futon, and an empty room without Gojo. 

The maids here knew better than to talk about it, even behind your back. They were aware of the power and status you held and that made everything a lot worse than you expected it to be. You had access to a lot of things, the family history archives, the financial sources, his previous missions— everything tied to him. Your husband, Gojo Satoru, was the clan head as well as the master of this mansion so there were no elderly people pushing responsibilities onto your shoulders like back at home. There was a sense of serenity in the air but how could you breathe it in for the rest of your life? 

Satoru Gojo was the kind of man whom one could easily desire. Despite being his wife and the future mother of his children, trying to love him felt like a cyanide for you. You wanted your husband, not some Satoru Gojo oozing with knowledge and power. You wanted to look him in the eye, not just his back which you barely get a glimpse of at the crack of dawn as he occupies the sad side of the bed under a separate duvet. In earlier stages of this marriage, there was no curtain separating you and your husband’s side of the bed but after a month of utter silence and stealing glances, the first thing he installed was a curtain in the shared canopy bed. If he needed some privacy he could easily ask you to shift into another room but he bothered to talk one of those clan servants to install a fucking curtain as if the silence was not enough of a gulf in between you two. 

Sometimes you thought that he was cheating on you but you always pushed it under the rug telling yourself, “You’re the wife of Satoru Gojo. No one can take that from you unless you walk out of this marriage. Not your father. Not that marriage broker —”

— Not even Gojo Satoru himself because he only married you to silence those nosy elders of his clan who pretend to be oh-so-worried for him. You were not foreign to that concept, after all, you are wrapped in the same shroud for all your life.

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .No one . . .” 

“You’re the wife of Gojo Satoru . . .” 

“You’re the wife . . .”

“You’re . . .”

But the thought of getting his dick sucked by some other woman or man, or him putting his dick into someone — it filled you with too much anger to sleep in bed that night. For the first time, you miss home because there you are free to go anywhere even at night. 

Satoru came home early that night, which was odd for his schedule, and was greeted with an empty bed after a long while. The sky is yet to be cracked open by sunlight. It is still too dark to be wandering around. Where could his wife have been gone to at this hour? He takes a spoonful of strawberry ice cream from the giant tub he held in his other hand before starting to look for you. But where should he look first? He does not know anything except the fact that he had put veils in different places of his house just to keep this house free of low-energy cursed spirits. Those veils sure did their job well but sometimes they would keep out non-sorcerers, people like you. His heart rejoices at the thought that he has to look for you in places only he is aware of, which means this is going to take a little less time, and he will find you much faster. Come to think of it, he has not been in the library section for a while but it is still as spotless as the first day he came here. Have you been visiting? Man! That sure worries him.

The pink layer of the tub has come down to half along with its skin being wet while the spoon is still experiencing the fierce appetite that Satoru had for anything sweet. He stands at the entrance of a long hallway before checking, thinking that this is the last place he has to look for but could it be possible that you were embarrassed enough to go back to your home?

Ahh…ahhh!

The spoon hits the wooden floor with a dull clatter as a wretched realization comes crashing down through his veins. Have you been cheating on him all this time? In his house? With some lowly servant ? Well, that sure makes it easier to end this sham of a marriage. He opens the door of a certain archive room as swiftly as possible trying to minimize the sound of his presence, making sure he does not shock you awake from your rendezvous. He is determined to catch you red-handed but when he opens the door he witnesses something that could have knocked the lights off his brain if he were not one of the greatest sorcerers of his time. The sight was not something of a fair appetite for ordinary people yet you sat by the marble slab of the giant window, with one of your arms nuked under your sapphire jinbei in between your legs as your skin glowed under that pale moonlight as if diamonds and pearls were embedded on your skin. 

You were sweating, arching your body, moaning and all your husband could do was watch in awe. Your free hand travels from the bottom of your cleavage and up to the apex of your nape as you turn your head opening your eyes for a brief moment. You see the world so blurred that it spikes your approaching high, but as you open your eyes for the second time your high is gone like it never existed. Your husband, Gojo Satoru stood before you like an ivory statue of certain abandoned ruined cathedrals. The dress covers most of your body so a wave of relief washes over him despite realizing how dangerous the spot you chose . . .to . . .umh. . . pleasure yourself . 

How long? How long was he watching you ? You shift your body to face him, and your hand slowly emerges from the warmth between your thighs. Satoru tries to ignore but traces of your arousal and his yearning are flourishing like fluorescence on your fingers as it rests on your thigh. You watch him gulp. Suddenly, Gojo Satoru is out of words. Teacher to his students of Jujutsu High, the strongest sorcerer, Nanami’s certified yapper is suddenly out of words. The slight slice of your boobs visible through your robe does not help either in the coherency of his thoughts. He had plans. He had plans to walk out of this marriage without being tainted as a “cheater” because the jujutsu society is so fucked up that they will not stop until they found this particular person that had made this marriage impossible to work on so that you, the wife, had to walk out it and dear God, they certainly are not fond of obstructions.

“What a nice place you chose to—” he finally looks away to keep the tub of semi-molten room-temperature strawberry ice cream on some bookshelf but before he could shift back his gaze on you again you were gone like a storm. The sound of your footsteps echoed in his ear till it stopped before he heard the click of a door. He does not understand if you are just too dumb or too brave to act the way you are acting right now. He follows you as a grunt of dismissal escapes from his chest. As he stands in front of the bathroom door he drowns yet again in utmost disbelief. He can still hear your shrill gasp of pleasure and he is not liking how his cock is responsive to it. At first, he hesitates to touch himself but the faint sound of your moans, the wet squelching sounds of your fingers moving in and out of your damp folds despite the door of the bathroom being locked buzzes in his ears like bees out in the hunt of honey. 

Satoru gave up . You hear a thud as you continue to finger yourself knowing full well that your husband must have followed you all the way here after witnessing you in such a state. Indeed, you could have been accused of cheating on him without him checking the door and it would have been much worse. He sits against the bathroom door unfurling the black ribbon with a swish to take his cock out of his baggy white pants. The tip is already leaking. His cock is throbbing in his palm as he encapsulates his fingers around it, moving his fingers up and down slowly. On the other side of the door, as you could finally feel the pinnacle of your high you heard a soft groan; a pain, that seemed familiar, was palpable underneath that shrill cry of pleasure. Still when your fingers touched the part inside you that almost felt like unknotting something from inside you, at the basal of your navel Satoru’s hand moved faster to chase the similar high that had started to bubble in his body under the influence of your ripples of pleasure. You heard your husband moan as tears rolled down your cheeks when you closed your eyes feeling the knot finally unwinding.

Perhaps, both of you came simultaneously. Perhaps not, because you immediately opened the door after you had calmed from your high, only to be greeted with Satoru sitting right at the opposite wall of the bathroom door, legs folded in L-manner so that he could keep his hand over his knee. His cock is still visible through his white pants and it is still so hard. One of your eyebrows raises in silent reply . Satoru notices that. He looks at you and then looks away. You extend your hand towards his face, gaining his stern azure pair of eyes shining against whatever dim light the crack of the bathroom door could allow. There was no sign of resistance in him so as your palm touched his cheeks, you waited and gave him time to protest. yet none ever followed,  instead, he surrendered to your touch, and your fingers curled under his chin as you ran your thumb over his lips. Satoru coiled against your touch imbibing as much as he could like a tide being high enough to touch the moon . . .a familiar voice shocked both of you awake.

“Lady Gojo. . .”