#and then he sees him in the uniform and goes ‘kill me kill me kill me kill me fuck me fuck me fuck me kill me holy shit’

[caffedrine]

Gilbert von Obsidian - The Boundary of Touch - Event Summary

I pretty much have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t either. This summary is not guaranteed to be accurate, it’s mostly written for myself to follow along with Gilbert.

The conference room in the Obsidian Castle always has a solemn, heavy atmosphere, even though Gilbert is in a relatively good mood today. He has brought Emma to this meeting where Gilbert’s advisors discuss reforms for the country. Seeing everyone else in perfect military uniform and formation, Emma can’t help but straighten her own posture.

Gilbert complains that they only bring him problems and no solutions, and he has no use for people who can’t think for themselves. Overall, though, he is pleased with their ideas and ends the meeting. Afterward, he asks Emma for her impressions, and she thanks him for allowing her to attend. Despite what he said earlier, Emma noticed that the personnel had presented many solutions, and if unforeseen circumstances need them to change course, she thinks they presented useful backup plans that wouldn’t be difficult to implement.

Well, if Emma thinks they’re useful, Gilbert doesn’t see the need to ‘fire’ his advisors. Emma frowns, in Obsidian, this is technically a threat. Gilbert laughs at her expression and tells her that he was just kidding, and he agrees with her that the advisors are improving. A little bit. With a smile, he intertwines his fingers with hers.

Oh, this brings back memories of last night, and Emma’s heart skips a beat. And just after the solemn and formal atmosphere of the conference! Emma feels guilty even as she squeezes Gilbert’s hand.

Gilbert laughs, she’s feeling a bit clingy today. Emma flushes, just as a door opens behind her and she hears footsteps. She can feel a gaze on her and turns to look, but no one is looking at her. Maybe it was her imagination?

Later, when Emma passes Gilbert in the hallway, she catches the reflected gaze of a soldier from the window. Maybe it wasn’t her imagination, but what was with that look?

While Emma puzzles it, Gilbert asks what she’s thinking of.

Could it be that she’s getting too impersonal with Gilbert? Open affection goes against military training, the soldiers must disapprove of her constantly touching Gilbert.

Oh no, she has been very frivolous with him. No, she needs to improve herself and become more composed and more formal with Gilbert.

Emma assures Gilbert that it is nothing, she was distracted by a bird flying outside the window. Gilbert smiles faintly and doesn’t press it.

Later that night, Emma is sitting next to Gilbert on his bed as he gently plays with her hair. He warns her that she needs to get better at lying, while that pivot earlier was well done, her expression right now is ruining it. That poor bird outside the window would be so sad.

Oh, he noticed. Well, of course, he did.

And on that note, Emma can imagine what his reaction would be if she told him truthfully that she thinks people disapprove of how much she clings to him.

Gilbert only smiles at her and asks if she won’t say it. Of course, if she does, he will kill everyone in the castle. He’ll erase everyone, just for her.

(Hahaha, he’s not joking)

Fine, she’ll explain herself. Emma explains that while she does feel people looking at her, she’s not embarrassed at being seen. It’s more that she’s embarrassed over her own shortcomings. She wants to touch him, but when she does, she feels her emotions get carried away. She doesn’t want to damage the dignified atmosphere he’s cultivated.

Oh, is that it? Gilbert doesn’t mind, he’s only like this with her. But if she wants to refrain from touching him in public, what can he do? Okay, tell him her limits and he’ll follow her lead.

Oh, uh, Emma was expecting more pushback about this. Gilbert shrugs glibly, he doesn’t mind testing this whim of hers. He also wants to see how far he can forgive her.

Err, right. Well, might as well strike while the fire’s hot. Emma asks if they can start tomorrow, and Gilbert agrees. He smiles sweetly and contently, but Emma can’t help but think that he has something nefarious planned.

The next day has Emma delivering documents to Gilbert. He greets her with his usual smile, their fingers brushing as he accepts the documents from her.

Is this okay?

At Emma’s confusion, Gilbert clarifies: is this type of touch acceptable within Emma’s limits? Demonstratively, Gilbert’s index finger slides along the tips of Emma’s fingers.

Uh, yeah. It’s fine.

Okay, what about this?

Gilbert’s fingers brush against the palm of Emma’s hand, and her heart starts hammering at the tingling feeling. Okay, does Gilbert understand they’re still in public?

Gilbert laughs, Emma is very serious about this. Emma asks if this bothers him at all, but he denies it. After all, he’s just touching her hand.

Staring intently at Emma, Gilbert pulls the documents away from her hand, his fingers trailing from her wrist to her fingertips.

What is off-limits? Gilbert invites Emma to touch him in a way that they can’t in public. He points out that they’re in his private office, so she can touch him however she wants.

And now Emma feels like they’re doing something naughty, trying not to get caught. Gently, Emma reaches out to touch Gilbert’s face.

Oh, so this is off limits too? Does Emma realize that Walter often touches Gilbert’s face during his checkups? Well, great news for Gilbert then! He’ll just have to tell Walter that touching his face is off-limits now!

Oh no! Walter is touching Gilbert for a medical procedure, so it doesn’t count.

Gilbert disagrees, if touching his face is too inappropriate for public, then the intent doesn’t matter, the act is still off-limits.

Gilbert grasps Emma’s hand and brings it up towards his eyepatch. Emma tries to snatch her hand back, but Gilbert’s grip is too strong. First one, then a second finger disappears beneath his eye-patch.

Gilbert explains that for him, this means nothing; it’s just touching his eyepatch. But, from Emma’s expression, it’s different for her. As Gilbert uses her fingers to lift his eyepatch, Emma’s heart nearly hammers out of her chest. She whines that this is far from okay.

Oh, what a shame.

Gilbert lets go of Emma’s hand and muses that grabbing her hand probably wasn’t okay for public either. Though they are alone, they are outside of their bedroom. He asks for her forgiveness. Emma assures him that he’s fine, it’s up to her to restrain herself.

Gilbert asks if Emma has figured out her thresholds yet. Can they still hold hands? He’d be so lonely if they couldn’t.

Emma decides that she’ll limit it to saying that touching faces is off-limits. Gilbert nods, he’ll let Walter know as well.

Nope! Gilbert isn’t getting out of his medically necessary exams that easily-

The sound of footsteps approaching stops Emma, and she apologizes for interrupting Gilbert, and hurries away. As she leaves his office, she sees Roderic approaching, and despite not being able to see his face, can almost feel his gaze boring into her.

Before long, she runs into Gilbert in the hallway. He reaches up to her cheek as if to pet her before stopping himself. Oops, he almost forgot! But if it’s what she want’s, he’ll comply.

Huh, usually Gilbert is a lot more pushy when he wants something. Is this some kind of trap?

Gilbert suddenly grabs Emma’s hand and brings it up to his neck. Politely, he asks why she looks so surprised, they said faces were off limits earlier, but not this.

Emma stutters as she feels Gilbert’s pulse beneath her fingers.

Ooh, Emma looks like she thinks this should be forbidden too. Well then.

Gilbert draws her hand down pressing it against his chest. He teases her, she must be very naughty if she is getting excited just by this.

But Gilbert does understand why she’s like this. Feeling his heartbeat is an intimate experience, touching something that no one else can touch. But, since she didn’t say this was off limits earlier, this must be an acceptable public display of affection.

Gilbert leans forward, and Emma can feel his breath on her face.

Oh no, Gilbert is in trouble. Now he can barely restrain himself. He asks Emma to figure out her limits by tonight, while he’s still feeling generous toward her.

And then Gilbert is gone.

Later, in her room, Emma considers Gilbert’s words as they permeate her brain like poison. What does she want?

She said that she doesn’t want to bother Gilbert’s solemn aura, but the main reason, if someone were to see her touching Gilbert . . .

Okay, restrictions on touching Gilbert wasn’t the issue. Instead, she needs to change her way of thinking. She remembers the conversation they had about how Walter could touch Gilbert all he wanted for medical reasons.

Eventually Gilbert visits Emma and sits on her bed next to her. He asks if she’s come up with her limits and Emma agrees.

Emma will touch him, but only for medical reasons.

Uh, medical reasons?

Right, like touching his arm to check his pulse, or his face to take his temperature. It’s all fine if it’s for health reasons!

After looking surprised, Gilbert bursts out in laughter. Emma really did think things through. This isn’t because she’s embarrassed at being seen, it’s that she’s developing dark, evil feelings that she is doing her best to avoid.

If he were to name those new feelings, he would imagine ‘possessiveness’ is the first one. She wants to touch him, to make it known that Gilbert is ‘her man’. But, she’s also very kind with the ‘pure heart’ so she cant bring herself to acknowledge those feelings. Hence, why she’s decided to avoid touching him in public.

Emma hangs her head in remorse, but there was one thing Gilbert missed. She didn’t want to show off that Gilbert was hers, but that she loved him most in the world.

Gilbert looks pleased. His poison is spreading through Emma, and the thought of her joining in his depravity sends shivers of joy down his spine. Will Emma ever forgive him?

No, Emma won’t blame Gilbert for this one. Besides, he hasn’t done anything evil to her recently.

Well, in that case, Gilbert will take the win. He grabs Emma’s hand and places it on his throat again, just like earlier.

Since it’s for medical reasons, there’s no reason to feel bad about it. She can medically feel him up all day in front of anyone and everyone.

Suddenly Gilbert’s mouth is on hers, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. Pulling back, he apologizes but he’s no longer feeling generous. Emma asks if by generous he means ‘listening to her selfishness’ but Gilbert denies this. No matter what, he will always listen to her.

No, seeing her struggle with dark emotions has Gilbert at his limit and he will no longer hold back. But he has no doubt that she’ll forgive him this gaffe, after all, she loves him the most. Before Emma can respond, Gilbert’s mouth is on hers again.

As the kiss deepens, Emma feels herself melting into Gilbert. The sensation of his heartbeat pulses through her, like a sweet poison.

Gilbert’s mouth is at her ear, at her neck, and then his teeth sink into her shoulder. The sharp pain makes her shift uncontrollably with want.

Gilbert murmurs that when people are forbidden something, it suddenly becomes more attractive. He shifts Emma’s hand from his neck to his face, noting that when she said that this was off-limits, it suddenly became exciting.

Emma gasps that this is all just a medical procedure. Gilbert laughs, Emma doesn’t look like she’s performing a routine medical examination.

Suddenly Gilbert is over her, pinning the hand that was on his face to the bed. Emma feels his tongue trace down her throat only to feel a small sharp pain at the base. Gilbert apologizes for hurting her but warns her that he won’t stop. If he’s going to indulge her selfishness, he expects her to indulge him.

Suddenly Emam is lifted to sit in Gilbert’s lap with her back against his chest. Again, his teeth sink into her shoulder blade as his fingers reach down under her skirt to stir inside her.

Oh no, is Gilbert making her think about others watching her again? He removes his fingers and caresses her back. If she’s worried about being seen feeling her feelings, why not lock herself up in her room?

Gilbert congratulates himself for coming up with the best ideas.

Fine, Emma will admit that she has been feeling possessive over him. She didn’t want to direct her selfish feelings to him, but she had to acknowledge something else. She’s the finance of a villain, and to love him, she must be an evil woman. So, instead of resisting, she will accept these selfish feelings of hers and show everyone how much she loves him.

Well then, it sounds like Gilbert’s solution of locking herself away or erasing everyone in the castle won’t work out. It’s only when she can bring herself to show off how she feels in front of others that she can become as evil as Gilbert.

Gilbert laughs, it looks like the face Emma is currently making isn’t something he’s willing to let anyone else see.

Emma feels Gilbert’s hands on her as the sensations drown out her thoughts and she loses track of what is good and what is evil.

The next morning, Gilbert is already gone by the time Emma wakes up. She easily changes into the black dress Gilbert made for her and ignores the small pains as she leaves the room.

Only to find Gilbert waiting for her just outside her door. He extends his wrist and asks her to medically check his pulse. Emma gives him a look before accepting his hand and touching his wrist.

Ooh, is it medically necessary to touch his hand so lovingly?

Well, yes it is.

Gilbert smoothly withdraws his hand and pulls something out from under his cloak. He holds up a black scarf, a present for becoming so evil. He drapes it over her shoulders, explaining that now she doesn’t have to worry about being seen.

Gilbert drops a kiss on Emma’s head, assuring her that it was just a medical procedure. Recent studies in mental health suggest that acts contributing to one’s emotional stability count as medical procedures.

Okay, and knowing Gilbert, that means that anything and everything is fair game.

So what if it is? Besides, this gives Emma the excuse she wants to show everyone that she loves Gilbert the most without being seen.

. . . what?

Suddenly suspicious, Emma lifts up the edge of the scarf and looks at herself, for the first time in forever. She looks at the bite marks that the dress doesn’t cover.

Ohh.

Emma thinks back to all the gazes on her and realizes that she had misread them. They weren’t judging her for clinging on to Gilbert. They were feeling pity for her after seeing all the bite marks he left behind.

And Gilbert knew the whole time.

(hehe)

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

I Am Flesh and I Am Bone (I've Got Fire in My Soul)

My belated Halloween fic is finally posted! Thank you to the marvelous @arisprite for the beautiful artwork they created for this fic, which you can find here, and all the help with brainstorming! You can read the first couple of scenes below or the whole thing here on AO3!

Rating: T

Words: 12K

Warnings: none

Relationships: Payneland with background Palasaki

Summary: On Halloween, when the veil is thinnest between the living and the dead, ghosts are at their most corporeal—and their most vulnerable. When Charles, Crystal, and Niko go to a masquerade and walk into terrible danger, Edwin has no choice but to leave the safety of their warded office to save them.

Excerpt:

“And this is why I have never cared for parties,” Edwin says as he helps Niko up the stairs to the office. She’s leaning against him heavily, looking almost as tired as she did while recovering from the spell that nearly killed her in Port Townsend. She lost her butterfly mask at some point during the evening.

“Soul sucking witches are why you’ve never cared for parties?” There’s no real bite in Crystal’s voice; she looks almost as exhausted as Niko, with her head lolled against Charles’s shoulder. He’s practically carrying her.

“Among other things.” Edwin shudders. “I will say, it was better than some of the dinner parties my parents forced me to attend.”

“Everyone was unconscious by the time you got there, mate,” Charles says.

“Precisely,” Edwin says. “I, for one, do not think I’ll be attending another one anytime soon.”

“It was pretty aces until the soul sucking started.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Edwin is very much not taking his word for it. “I could have told you, Charles, nothing good ever happens on Halloween.”

***

Five days ago

Charles doesn’t realize how close they are to Halloween until he’s walking Crystal and Niko back to the agency’s office, a step ahead of the girls, when he hears a surprised shriek behind him. He whirls around to find Crystal suspended in mid-air, hanging upside down, the coffee she just bought at the shop down the road staining her pale blue blazer and dripping down her face into her hair.

She glares furiously at Charles, blinking coffee out of her eyes. “What the actual fuck, Charles?”

“Oi, why do you assume I did that?” Charles puts his hands up in surrender as Niko starts dabbing at her girlfriend’s cheek ineffectually with a napkin. “Edwin, I think your protection wards work a little too well, mate!”

Edwin’s head appears through the door. When he sees Crystal’s predicament, he sighs. “One moment, please.” He vanishes back into the office.

“Take your time!” Crystal calls after him. “I’ll just be here, showing my ass to the entire hallway.”

“It’s a nice ass,” Niko says helpfully.

Charles politely averts his eyes from the ass in question, focusing instead of the growing puddle of iced coffee on the ground. “No other offices on this floor, mate, so the only people who can see anything are me and Niko.”

“Charles, you’re not helping.”

There’s a hissing sound in the air, like air being released from a tire, and Charles catches Crystal around the waist right before the wards release her. He lowers her to the ground carefully, flipping her over to set her down on her feet. She smooths down the skirt of her uniform, glowering down at her stained blazer and blouse.

With an apologetic smile, Charles opens the door to show the girls into the office. On the other side of the door, Edwin stands with his hands clasped behind his back, looking only slightly sheepish.

Crystal jabs a finger at him. “You owe me a coffee.”

“You really should consume less caffeine,” he tells her. “It will stunt your growth and you’re already considerably shorter than average.”

That earns him the expected hand gesture, which he seems unfazed by.

“What are the added wards for, mate?” Charles goes to press a kiss to his partner’s cheek. He doesn’t think they’ve made any enemies lately. Their last few cases have been almost painfully routine. He hasn’t had to hit anyone with his cricket bat in months.

“I ran some errands while you were out,” Edwin says, cheeks going a little pink at the PDA, as mild as it was. “When I attempted to return home, instead of mirror-walking back to the office, I ended up in the real estate office downstairs. I gave one of the realtors quite a fright, I’m afraid. I don’t believe she could see me, per se, but she certainly knew she wasn’t alone.”

Charles groans. “Bollocks. What day is it?”

“October 26th.” Niko looks between them. “What does that have to do with the wards?”

“Are you afraid the realtor’s going to call an exorcist?” Crystal asks in a tone that suggests she may help out said exorcist.

Charles shakes his head as he slings an arm around Edwin’s shoulders. “It means it’s almost Halloween. Snuck up on us this year, didn’t it, mate? Suppose we’ve had a bit going on.”

Crystal and Niko both stare at him blankly and he remembers that even though it feels like they’ve been part of the Dead Boy Detectives for ages, it’s been less than a year since Port Townsend. There’s still so much that they don’t know.

“Halloween, or Samhain, is the day where the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest,” Edwin says in what Charles privately thinks of as his posh professor voice. “We often see all manner of ridiculousness on that day. Seances, arcane rituals—”

“Long story short.” Charles squeezes Edwin’s shoulder, because as much as he loves his posh professor voice, Crystal is looking increasingly murderous. “Veil being thin means that things are a bit screwy for ghosts around Halloween. Mirror travel doesn’t work, for one. Most people can see us, for another.”

Edwin nods. “Precisely. On Halloween, ghosts experience the closest thing to corporeality that we’re capable of. It makes us vulnerable to far more things than iron and cat scratches. Hence, the wards. My apologies, Crystal. I forgot to make an exception for you so you could pass through untouched.”

“I notice Niko was able to get through with no problem,” Crystal says.

Edwin clears his throat and straightens his bow tie.

“This is awesome!” Niko claps her hands together, eyes shining. “If people can see you, does that mean you can go out and actually interact with people?”

Charles grins at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s brills, isn’t it? It’s almost like being alive again. We can’t eat or sleep or anything, because we’re still ghosts, but we’re a bit more part of the living world. We can feel it when people touch us. We can even smell a bit, right, Edwin? Which isn’t always so brills. Couple of Halloweens ago, all the sewage pipes in the building got backed up. That was a tough one.”

“So what do you normally do on Halloween?” Niko bounces up and down on her toes, like her body can’t contain so much excitement.

“Depends on the year.” Charles shrugs. “Usually, I find a party or a club, go dancing, meet some new people, find a—”

He breaks off, because he was about to say “find a fit girl to snog,” but he’s not about to say that in front of Edwin. It’s only been a few months since Charles pulled Edwin close at the end of a long, harrowing case and kissed him. They’re still figuring out this new aspect of their relationship, feeling each other out (in more ways than one.) They’re taking things slow, but it’s been pretty aces so far. Charles isn’t about to wreck it by bringing up all the girls he used to snog.

“And I layer the office in wards and settle down for the evening with a good book,” Edwin says.

Crystal and Niko turn to him, aghast. “You get one day of being corporeal a year and you spend it hiding in the office?” Crystal demands. “Of course you do.”

“Corporeality means we can be observed and touched, which means we can be harmed.” Edwin sniffs. “I don’t begrudge Charles his evening of revelry, but I prefer to stay where I know I won’t be hit by a bus. I don’t believe we can die again on Samhain, but I will not risk it.”

Crystal opens her mouth, but Charles catches her eye and shakes his head. He and Edwin had this conversation many times in their first few years of friendship. It took Charles a while to realize that his version of having fun—going out and meeting people, flirting with girls, experiencing new things—wasn’t exactly Edwin’s version of hell, but was the closest thing the mortal plane could provide. He doesn’t get Edwin’s insistence on locking himself away every Halloween, but he’s sure Edwin is just as bewildered by Charles always going out.

But this year, Charles has better plans than going to a party and meeting pretty girls. He’s been waiting for months to find out just how soft and warm Edwin’s mouth really is. Ghosts have their own type of physical sensation, so kissing Edwin is always aces, but on Halloween, it will be the closest they’ll ever get to being two flesh and blood boys snogging on the couch. He might even be able to give Edwin a hickey. Charles can’t wait.

A bloodcurdling shriek from the hallway distracts him from imagining kissing his way down Edwin’s throat.

“Oh no.” Niko’s eyes go wide. “Edwin, did you put the wards back up?”

Edwin huffs. “Of course I did. There’s no such thing as being too careful around Halloween.”

“Edwin Payne!” a Scottish-accented voice bellows. “What on earth is the meaning of this?”

***

Four days ago

“I have an idea!”

Edwin has approximately a fifty perfect success rate with Niko Sasaki’s idea. When it comes to detective work, she has shockingly astute instincts for one so young and so new to the world of the supernatural. She’s also quite good at finding books and cartoons that Edwin would enjoy, even if some of them are downright scandalous. However, the last time she said, “I have an idea!” in that tone of voice, she spent a quarter of an hour trying to convince Edwin to manifest himself a mustache.

With great trepidation, Edwin looks up from his report on their latest case. “Yes, Niko?”

She beams down at him. Crystal stands with her arm around her, smirking, which worries Edwin even more. “We should go to a Halloween party.”

Edwin has been expecting this ever since their discussion about Samhain yesterday. “I would rather return to Hell. Not the Dollhouse, but perhaps Limbo.”

“Let’s not joke about that, yeah?” Charles calls from the other side of the office, where he’s sorting the infinite backpack, a process that would be much quicker if he would ever let Edwin inventory the contents.

“But no, this is a party I think you’ll like,” Niko says. “It’s in a new club that used to be an old factory.”

“Niko, you enjoy horror films,” Edwin says. “You should know better.”

“And it’s a masquerade!”

Edwin blinks, confused at her obvious excitement.

“You know, you wear masks, so no one can tell who each other is,” Niko says. “It’s super romantic. You can be dancing with someone and they could turn out to be your mortal enemy.”

“Do you have a mortal enemy, Niko?” Charles asks, amused.

“Mrs. Schafer, my Lit teacher at Gray Wake,” Niko says. “She said manga was for people who can’t read real books.”

Edwin is going to find this Mrs. Schafer and haunt her until the day she dies. “I like to see my enemies coming, so I would prefer them not to be masked.”

Niko sticks her lower lip out in a pout and turns to Crystal. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?”

“And see you in a pretty costume? Of course.” Crystal looks over her shoulder at Charles. “You in, Charles?”

Charles puts down what looks like a half-eaten sandwich—why he has a sandwich in his bag, Edwin can only imagine—and turns to them. “I don’t know. Don’t think it’s Edwin’s scene.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go,” Edwin says quickly. He’s been worried about this ever since this… thing between them began this past summer. He and Charles both learned much about themselves in Port Townsend. Edwin learned that he could finally put words to the desires he’d been suppressing his whole existence without burning up in shame, that the way he felt could be right and good. Charles learned how desperately he aches to still be part of the living world, to experience the life that was stolen from him so cruelly. Edwin doesn’t want Charles to give up the one day a year he can interact with the world just because Edwin would rather not.

Edwin still doesn’t know exactly what they’re doing. The physical aspect of it is better than he ever could have imagined. He didn’t know he could feel as good as Charles makes him feel on a regular basis. But Edwin still isn’t sure what it all means and he fears asking, lest he upset the delicate balance between them. He knows that Charles loves him, that he’s the one person in the universe Charles Rowland would walk into Hell for. But he doesn’t know if Charles is in love with him, or if he’s just enjoying the novelty of being intimate with someone whose touch he can actually feel.

All Edwin knows is that he doesn’t want it to end. And if he holds Charles back from a night of fun with Niko and Crystal, he fears it’s only a matter of time before Charles starts resenting Edwin’s wallflower tendencies. After all, tolerating an antisocial best friend is one thing; having a romantic partner that walls himself up in their office rather than face the living world is another. Edwin couldn’t blame Charles for growing tired of that.

“I don’t know, mate.” Charles looks doubtful. “I was thinking we could stay in. Maybe you could read one of Niko’s mangas to me.”

That sounds like the best Halloween that Edwin can imagine, but he’s sure it’s not what Charles really wants. “No, I insist. I don’t expect you to pass up an opportunity to go to a party just because I’d rather not. Besides, some peace and quiet will be a welcome change.” For show, he casts a pointed look at Crystal, even though they all know he’s come to accept the additional members of the Dead Boy Detective Agency, even the Night Nurse.

“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” Charles says cheerfully, turning back to his backpack. For a moment, Edwin thinks he detects a hint of strain in the cheer, but then Charles starts whistling as he pulls a garden spade out of his bag.

“You should go enjoy your masquerade,” Edwin says, instead of asking Charles to stay. “But if you’re going to dance with your greatest enemy, I do hope you bring your bag of tricks.”

***

You can find the rest on AO3!

[rotteneldritchhorror]

Rafe dragging Barry to a Halloween party and making him dress up, and Barry bringing out his military uniform he almost definitely stole when he got discharged, and Rafe fucking DYING and dropping to his knees lol

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo buying (y/n) souvenirs after every mission and finding out she kept EVERYTHING

Pairing: Gojo x reader (fem!pronouns)

Word Count: 1,2k

Synopsis: Since your joyful smile is so addictive, Satoru can't help but buy you a souvenir every time he goes on a mission. After a few months, he realizes by accident that you do, in fact, keep everything he gifts you...

Warnings: this is fluffness overload so be prepared, (y/n) has a really bubbly and Mitsuri-like personality, let me know what you thiiiiink and enjoy your holidays🤍

Your heart jumps up and down in joy, feet carrying you down the hallway at lightspeed. Finally he’s back. How long has it been since you’ve last seen him? Definitely too long.

“Satoru!”, you cry out.

There he stands, his arms already wide open while wearing the casual sly grin you adore so much. You can’t contain yourself any longer, your giggles filling his very own heart with nothing but joy.

Satoru doesn’t remember exactly how it all started. After some random mission, he saw a little figure of your favourite animal standing innocently in a show window. He didn’t think much of it, bought it only because it reminded him of you. But oh, you were so joyful back then.

“Are you kidding me?”, you breathed out, glossy eyes staring at the pretty ugly figure so heartfelt that Satoru couldn’t help but shamelessly stare at you.

“It reminded me of you since I know it’s your favourite animal, so yeah…You like it?”

“Like it?”

You grabbed his hands with so much passion that he almost fell backwards, jumping up and down in delight.

“I love it, Satoru! This is probably the nicest thing someone ever did for me!”

It was inevitable from there on. The urge to see your heartfelt joy after every mission became an obsession, forcing him to look into every window, into every shop on the haunt for something you might like. To be honest it made everything more bearable. The loss of his best friend, the people around him dying, all the things that keep him up at night seem to disappear when he’s looking for souvenirs to bring you.

And this.

You almost knock him over by the way you let yourself fall into his arms, hands intertwined behind his back just the way he likes it. Oh, your smell is so intoxicating, as well as your gorgeous appearance sends warm shivers down his spine. How is it even possible that you seem to get more and more breath-taking every time he sees you?

“I was so worried about you! Why didn’t you answer your calls?”, you mumble against the fabric of his uniform, instantly greeted by the singing smell of curses.

“Oh y’know, I had to do a little work from now and then. Like killing off some demons and saving a whole town from getting wiped out. So sorry I didn’t call you back”, he teases you gently.

“That didn’t stop me from getting something for you, though…”

Your eyes widen in sheer excitement, head darting towards him instantly.

“No, you didn’t”, you mutter, lips already forming the most adorable smile.

“Heck yeah I did.”

“I told you over and over that you don’t need to do that, Satoru!”

“Do you like them?”

You bite your lip in a miserable attempt to suppress the wide grin that creeps up your face, cheeks turning the shade of pink that makes Satoru lose his mind.  You are so breath-taking, so pure that it warms his heart.

“Of course I do”, you mumble into your hand.

“There you go.”

He hands you a small box, the brush of his tender touch against your hand sending electricity right through your body. With trembling fingers, you open the light blue ribbon wrapped around it, exposing a simple yet stunning necklace. You desperately try to hold back tears, so moved that you are utterly speechless.

This necklace isn’t this simple. No, engraved into it in Satoru’s iconic handwriting, it says “every thought, you”.

“You can’t be serious about this, Satoru. I really don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve this and even more, (y/n). Do you like it?”

“You ask me if I like it?”, you repeat breathless.

Your finger brushes over the engraving carefully, feeling every curve and every stroke of his elegant hand writing. This must have been expensive – way too expensive for a simple souvenir. But oh how much you love it already, you’ll keep this close to your heart day in and day out.

“I love it. Thank you so much.”

There’s no time to waste. With a swift motion you lunge yourself at him all over again, burying your face against his broad chest. You truly don’t deserve his kindness, his affection. What an outstanding man he is, so tender that it makes you tear up.

“I’d do anything to make you smile”, he mutters into your hair, hands stroking your back ever so gently.

Smile…Oh, you almost forgot!

“Would you…Would you mind coming to my dorm for a second? There’s something I want to give you as well.”

You wipe your tears away unladylike, your hand grabbing his before he’s even able to answer your question.

“Something you want to give to me? Remember when I told you you don’t have to buy me anything?”

“Remember when I told you the same?”, you remark with a slight grin, literally dragging him into your room.

In fact, you stumbled upon this cute figure of a white cat the other day. There was no way you’d leave without buying it, not when it reminded you so much of him.

You swing your drawer open without thinking twice, grabbing the cute little cat with your face glowing in proud.

“Okay, now that’s adorable”, Satoru laughs gently.

Somehow, his eyes get stuck on your drawer though. It looks messy, almost flooding over with all the pieced cramped into it. But no, that isn’t some random rubbish. That figure that stands in the middle of it, it looks so familiar. As well as all those letters, the sweets, the postcards…

It dawns to him, heart skipping a beat. These are all the souvenirs he brought you over the last few years.

“Don’t tell me you kept everything I gave you.”

Oh, please tell him you did.

“Huh?”

Your innocent eyes dart towards the drawer behind you, your cheeks instantly heating up all over again.

“Oh…of course I kept them! Why would I ever throw them away?”

“You even kept the packages of the sweets from last months…”

His heart almost overspills with love. You have to be an angel, too pure and kind for this world. Just one look into your tender eyes is enough to sweep him off his feet, the little cat he holds in his hand sending him over the edge.

“I just love to get reminded of you I guess.”

“And I love you, (y/n). You have to be the most precious human being I’ve ever met.”

The way your eyes widen and your mouth shoots open is priceless. You look so utterly surprised that he can’t help but chuckle while wrapping his strong arms around you all over again.

“Y-you, loving me?”, you stutter.

“Well, I was hoping you’d love me too-“

“I do”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I love you more than any souvenir!”, you babble out.

“That’s what a man needs to hear”, he laughs softly.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @chilichopsticks

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. a woman in uniform.

about. satoru let’s you try his uniform on in the bedroom and loses his fucking mind. not even the strongest sorcerer can resist a woman in uniform.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, power play, pussy jobs, oral sex ( m!receiving ), clothed sex, blind folds, some slight sub/dom dynamics, fem!reader. i wrote this with my clit tbh.

i think that gojo goes feral for you wearing his uniform. the whole get up, the blind fold and the jujutsu tech jacket. he’ll try to fight it, the feeling of power slipping away, as you crawl up the bed and between his thighs — your tongue dragging over your lips.

“oh, you shakin’ satoru?” he can see the excitement dancing around in your eyes even through the fabric covering them. he can sense the flare in your energy as you loom over him, ranking your nails down creamy washboard abs while his infinity fizzles away. “poor you. it’s not fun to be on the receiving end, is it?”

if satoru really wanted to, he would flip the situation in an instant — have you pinned to the bed with your clothes askew and your mouth hanging open in breathy whines as you beg for him to touch you. but he doesn’t. he can’t. you have so much power over him when you’re dressed like that and you act like you’re the strongest one in the room. you both know that he has the power to end your free rein over his body.

he is the strongest after all.

your mouth is quick to follow your nails, teeth and tongue trailing a wet path from gojo’s prominent collar bones, between his firm pecs and down his tense stomach. you suck hickies into the bone of his slender hips, shades of mauve and navy-ish blue blooming against pale skin like adding water colours to a blank canvas. satoru inhales sharply, losing control of his invisible barrier just so he can savour the feeling of you ravishing his body with nips and sucks and kisses.

you haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“lift your hips, satoru, let me see what you’ve got under all this,” you coo sweetly and it’s as if you’re drizzling honey in his ears. the white haired man follows your command like it’s the law, instinctively bucking up and away from the bed so you can pull down his boxers. “how sweet, you’re so hard.” satoru’s cock springs free from its restraints, sticky and bright red at the tip, pulsing and thick at the shaft. when you touch him and take hold of his length in your tiny hand, kitten licking the entirety of him while you look up at him hungrily through your blindfold… the man is sure he might die. you could kill him like this, with his infinity down…and you’re fully aware of it.

teasingly, you ease his cockhead past the seam of your kiss swollen lips and let it nudge the soft epithelium on the inside of your cheek — lubing him up, getting him ready for more of your torture. “should i suck you off? or should i ride you?” you manage, even though your mouth is full of dick…the next, your nose is buried in a trail of soft white pubic hair.

“don’t do that… please…” satoru whines, chest flushed and heaving, brilliant blue eyes boring deep into your soul. his fists form balls at the sides of his shaky legs, he could reach out and touch you — coax you into giving him more. it’s not like he has any restraints on…except for the metaphorical ones of your will and your control. you let go of him with a lewd pop, a trail of your saliva mixed with milky precum tying you to his sensitive erection. “f-fuck…”

cocking your head to the side, you use a soiled thumb and forefinger to lift the black hand over one of your dangerously pretty and mirth-filled eyes. “do what?” you respond with an inquisitive purr, licking your lips and moaning at the taste of the six eyes on them.

“s-shit,” satoru curses, blood curdling and boiling hot lust spreading through all four of his limbs at the sight. “don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me…don’t act like you don’t know how feral i am for you…” saliva pools on the pallets of his tongue, slipping in between the sorcerer’s words as you move like a vixen in the woods above him — sliding yourself into gojo’s lap to position yourself perfectly above his aching cock. “don’t—“

gojo chokes on a moan as you begin circling your hips, plush and puffy pussy lips sucking in the length of his cock whilst it lays flat against his tummy. if he focuses his mind enough, pushes through the dark veil of lust you’ve pulled over his mind that works in overdrive, he can just about see his bulbous, leaky tip peeking out from underneath the folds of his dark uniform — the uniform that’s draped so perfectly over the curve of your mouth-watering body. a deep groan anchors itself in gojo’s chest like the roots of a sturdy oak tree and his hands leap up from the bedsheets to grip your peachy ass barely hidden by his clothes.

“don’t this, don’t that,” you hum condescendingly, as you alternate the movement of your hips — dragging them back and forth, back and forth over your lover’s pathetically wet dick. you make sure to clench your slick hole every time it meets his tip, glazing him in a small stream of your arousal. “don’t you know how to shut up ‘n take it, satoru?”

the dominance in your voice has the white haired man in shambles, twitching beneath the weight of your body on his. for christs sake, he’s the strongest, he brings curses and sorcerer alike to their knees just by mention of his name. so why is he so weakened by the sight of you above him? by the sight of you in his clothes, grinding sloppily on his wet cock? gojo doesn’t want infinity projecting him, not when he occasionally slips inside of your welcoming, tight cunt when you thrust yourself down on him.

“g-god…baby, please!” he hiccups, fighting the urge to force you down onto him fully — bully his way into your squishy insides. satoru could do anything he wanted to you, in a single moment he could have you sniffling against the sheets and crying as much as your cunt does…but the way you rein him in just by wearing his clothes stops him.

“what’s the matter, handsome? you cryin’?”

at your teasing, the cream that oozes from his sensitive tip paints your clit adds to your gathering arousal as it soaks through satoru’s uniform. nastily, he doesn’t think he’ll wash it, he wants the memories of tonight to stay with him forever. he wants to remember how you took over him and took his every capability in using his power — reducing the satoru gojo to a pussy drunk fool.

the scent of your sex is the only way he can think to immortalise this moment.

“i can… i can take it. give it t’me, want everythin’ you’ve got,” satoru simpers eagerly over the lewd, sticky pap, pap, pap of your sexes meeting in a salacious bump and grind. he has no idea where to look — intimidated by the control that oozes off of you, the control that he gives you. if he stares at your bouncing breasts beneath his jujutsu tech jacket or your clenching cunt for too long, he might just bust all over you and his inform before he even has the chance to be inside of you.

light laughter escapes you at gojo’s babyish bleats and whimpers — so you lift the blindfold once more, lips spreading into a slow and sexy smirk, much like the kind he would tease you with. “i don’t think you can handle my everything, baby.”

and you’d be right. not even the strongest sorcerer in japan could handle his woman in his uniform.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy 4

Madness & Mayhem

Label Mature 18+

Summary

The Baron has fallen severely ill. Feyds older brother Rabban is flown in for a reunion of the Harkonnen men. With the role of leadership looking like it will transition to Feyd Rautha if the Baron dies the entire galaxy awaits in suspense.

Feyds main obsession is for you and your well being. Though he never outwardly shows it Feyd has a deep attachment to his unborn and goes out of his way to ensure you are both healthy and safe. Even if that means sacrificing his uncle the Baron to do so.

Starts Harkonnen brothers reunite Ends Deep rooted sexual depravity

🚨 Depraved Smut 🚨

coercion•manipulation •rough sex•Feyd in heat•passionate sex•forced lactation• multiple orgasms •simultaneous orgasms •cream pies•aftercare

🫦Smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia

⚔️ Feyd Fantasy Series ⚔️

Part 1•Part2•Part 3•Part 4•Part 5• Part 6•Part 7

⏳Extreme Dune Inaccuracies ⌛️

💝Softie approved (non-violent) there’s one swift kick

Part 5 Will be Series Finale 🙏🏻

⚔️ Multiple anonymous requests combined ⚔️

-Feyd obsessed with the pregnancy -Feyd protective/aggressive over pregnancy -Manipulating the Baroness into a sexual kink -Rough semi public sex -Love making passionate sex -Feyd is madly in love with the Baroness -Feyd Going insane over the Baroness’s milk. -Feyd Breastfeeding from the Baroness -Feyd calling the Baroness his bovine

*Feyd really needs milk ?? thank you for the requests ☺️🙏🏻

Madness & Mayhem 

Feyd waits with twenty armed guards at the front of the fortress. An ornithopter swoops in and lands on the arrival pad creating strong gusts of wind.

Out of the craft steps Feyds towering older barbaric brother Rabban. A pale bald gargantuan figure of a man, he has deep set hunter eyes his face rests in a permanent scowl.

He is the tasked enforcer to secure the Barons empire. So animalistic and savage his given name is “the beast” due to his outbursts of uncontrollable rage.

He sees his stoic younger brother at the entrance of the fortress with his guards. Still the most handsome Harkonnen now dressed with a more regal flair than the plain black uniform he is accustomed to. Feyds confidence has increased tenfold Rabban can see the newfound look of determination blazing in his eyes.

They have been raised in competition from child hood. Feyd out performing Rabban at every single opportunity. It hurt him terribly when they were younger to always be cast aside for the more calculated and handsome Feyd Rautha. That was until he came to the realization it was Feyds destiny, it was his right. How else could someone be so perfect.

Feyd watches his older brother bounding down the gangway to greet him. Feyd feels a nagging of annoyance as he clasps his hands behind his back. He stands taller as his brother grows near.

Rabban has failed to secure the spice fields on Arrakis his entire campaign. The spice supply and profits have been decreasing at an alarming rate. The Baron was already preparing to have Feyd arrive on Arrakis and be the savior of the people after Rabbans tyrannical rule.

“ BROTHER!” Rabban yells excitedly. “My eyes are so pleased to see you even under these circumstances. Look how well you are dressed how was your birthday celebration!” Rabban asks gleefully.

Feyd begins to walk with his hands clasped behind his back. Rabban matches his pace “All went well brother, uncle allowed me a real warrior for my 100th kill unsheilded ,and I received the ancient stones of ascension” Feyd revels in sharing his achievements over his brother.

“Our uncle?“ Rabban laughs out loud “let his precious Feyd Rautha engage in unsheilded combat!” Rabbans laughter continues even louder and more tormenting. Until it ends swiftly with a kick to his ribs from Feyd. The hit causes a direct injury Rabban falls to the ground in pain.

Feyd stands over his older brother enjoying watching him gasp and struggle to breathe from the harsh blow. “For the embarrassment you have caused the Harkonnen name on Arrakis you should be kissing my feet not insulting me brother.” Feyd hisses. ”Now that I am set to be Baron” Feyd pauses and steps his foot next to his brothers head. “Kiss or Die” Feyd commands as he kneels over him.

Rabban hesitates to kiss Feyds boot. He is overcome with humiliation that his younger brother is superior to him in every way possible. Rabban does however feel the shame weighing on him of weakening yet another family legacy.

He reluctantly turns his head and kisses Feyds boot in reverence. “We are even now brother ” Feyd asserts standing tall. “Come let’s go see uncle” Feyd leads the way back into the fortress as Rabban follows clutching his ribs

Clever Boy

Feyd and Rabban stand on either side of the Barons bed in the medical wing. The healers have determined he does not have a contagious disease, but his body is heavily contaminated with toxins. They do a skin test but find no reaction from contact. The poison they fail to find has already metabolized in his system.

The Baron is attached to a breathing apparatus. An intravenous mechanism pumps opium to control the pain. His fat body looks even weightier on the normal size medical bed hovering in place. His fingers are decorated with opulent silver rings, the remnants of Feyds birthday celebration. His hands rest across his chest.

“What happened to him why does he look so …purple?” Rabban asks out of curiosity. “Strange disease perhaps” Feyd says casually.

“What if he was POISONED?!!” Rabban yells as he continues to unravel the mystery “It looks like the effects of the dried root plant from Arrakis, there is no mistaking that purple color!” His eyes widen in fear as he clutches his chest.

Feyds impressed his thick brother even narrowed it down to the right plant. “Who would poison our dear sweet beloved uncle? Feyd asks with a mocked concern. “Whoever it is I WILL KILL THEM!” Rabban yells and lifts a medical table tossing it across the room. It crashes into a wall contents scattering across the floor.

The guards rush in and check for the immediate danger only to see Rabban falling to his knees wailing as he clutches his head. Feyd signals them to leave.

Rabban drags on his knees to the bedside of his uncle and grabs his purple hued hand “UNCLE OH WHY !YOU ARE OUR ONLY FATHER YOU HAVE RAISED US TO—” his wailing is cut short by Feyd pulling him up gently by his shoulders “You mustn't touch him too long remember? Diseases?” Feyd says hastily.

Rabban snarls in disgust looking at his hands and runs to the room basin scrubbing them furiously. “Good boy” Feyd says with a grin as he approaches him. His brother may be a raging maniac but he doesn’t want to risk him dead.

Feyd checks the vials of decontaminants. “This one should work much better” Feyd says handing Rabban a solvent that neutralizes toxins. “Thank you brother” Rabban says looking to him graciously.

Rabban was Feyds only childhood companion. Feyd out smarted him ruthlessly at every turn to gain favor from his uncle. Whatever bond they had was broken once the Baron pitted them against each other for his favor.

Feyd noticed how his uncle always underestimated Rabban. Without the pressure of failure Rabban’s nerves would decrease and his rage would cool. He could work effectively, but under pressure Rabban would crack every time. If he could keep Rabban calm during stressful events he would be an unstoppable force.

After Rabban scrubs his hands. He suddenly drops to his knees in front of Feyd. “Feyd I pledge my life to your service you are the future Baron of Giedi prime. I will do everything in my power to serve your reign, I will die for you brother” he says almost in tears.

Feyd slaps the back of his bald brothers head “Get up I know, come meet my Baroness pregnant with my heir” he says hiding away his contentment.

As Feyd and Rabban leave the Baron stirs with a wheeze he was only pretending to sleep. The opium dulls his pain but not enough. He listens intently whenever he hears an important visitor will be arriving . He knows his death is imminent and he spies to confirm his suspicions and loyalties.

‘The cold calculated Feyd Rautha will inherit the throne after all just as I foretold’ the Baron thinks to himself pleased. He lets out a weak startled cough coming to a realization. ‘Ah the cleverness of the boy.’ He sighs. The Baron realizes exactly who poisoned him and why. He presses a button to alert his mentant .

Tumultuous Family

You are sitting in a spacious open viewing room overlooking the large center fortress courtyard. Resting in a chair you enjoy a new book from Feyd ‘The Barons of Giedi Prime.’

Feyd wraps his knuckle at the large open door and you look up from your book and smile. Feyd is standing with a much larger imposing man dressed in Harkonnen military armor. You recognize him from the meeting hall portrait.

As they approach you put your book down and stand to greet them “My brother Rabban this is my wife and Baroness” Feyd says eyeing you with pride. Rabban looks slack jawed.

You are a healthy beautifully shaped woman with radiant skin and full head of hair. Your eyes and confidence immediately intimidate him. He was expecting a pale bald tamed Giedi Prime woman he can not contain his shock.

“Baroness you are stunning. I had no idea my brother could have a wife as beautiful as you are. I pray to the ancient ways the future heir will inherit your striking resemblance. You are like sunshine brightening a gray sky, your beautiful body will grow a healthy child. I am honored you will bear a Harkonnen, you… “ Feyd firmly grabs Rabbans shoulder to stop his unfiltered ramblings about your looks.

“What he is trying to say is congratulations” Feyd interjects. Rabban is already lost in thought transfixed by the thought that you are pregnant with an unborn.

He stares at your abdomen then back to your eyes “May I touch?” he asks reaching to your womb in fascination. Before you can even utter a word Feyd yanks him back full force “You do not touch what is mine brother” he snaps angrily.

Rabban bows his head respectfully and Feyd coldly gestures him to leave. Rabban exits the room quietly and shuts the door behind him. The silence is deafening after the interaction.

Feyd goes to your reading table and pours himself a water to drink. He sits and you join him. After a few moments of silence he formulates a way of giving you a piece of what you’ve been yearning for. His tumultuous family history.

“My older brother Rabban though vastly different from me is in fact related to me by blood.” He says with a contemplative smirk. “He was so unfit as a son my parents hastily sought to have another” you almost question his statement as vanity until you see he’s serious.

You decide to pry now that he has opened the conversation to his parents. Especially being tormented about his mothers death being matricide. “So you were your mother’s favorite?” you ask gently.

“My mother didn’t have a favorite, she didnt love any of us. She did as she was told. She was a Bene Gesserit” your stomach pulls in apprehension at his cruel inflection of the word.

“Rabban came out ….differently , obviously not the superior son they were expecting. After him there were several failed pregnancies. My father began having my mother pumped full of hormonal drugs. One cluster of drugged cells finally developed into a fertile embryo… and here I am” he sets his empty cup down tracing his finger around the rim to distract himself from his own painful admission.

Realizing his mother was a Bene Gesserit entails Feyd was rarely nurtured or loved. As a Bene Gesserit you do not attach to your child in love because it is considered to detract from the order. You are a vessel that serves a greater purpose and may need to lie or even harm your child to lead it to the path that aligns with the order.

Feyd slumps down in his chair and folds his hands. You see his deadened eyes lost in the complexities of a traumatic memory. You come and sit on his lap. He allows you space and you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his head. He reaches around your waist clinging to you as he still stares off into the space of the courtyard.

You press a kiss onto his forehead transferring feelings of love into his mind as you caress your fingers at his temple. He relaxes instantly closing his eyes and resting against your bosom. He feels safe as he presses his cheek along your breasts loving the comfort and warmth.

The way you nurture him so lovingly always causes maddening thoughts to form in his mind. He doesn’t understand why he must corrupt something so good but he has already set in motion a way to satisfy his newfound dark desire. “Come let’s prepare for dinner with my brother. I will need him as an ally in the coming days” he says trying to shift his mind back to rational thought. He helps you to stand from his lap and you both leave to his chamber.

Liquid Lactation

Unbeknownst to you Feyd has been invested in the health of you and his unborn to an obsessive degree from the start. He assigned a Doulah who confirmed you were implanted with his unborn.

At the verification he immediately coerced her to be a spy for him without any limit to your privacy. She is loyal to her leader and reports all details to him without reservation. He was informed the unborn is smaller than expected but healthy. However the pregnancy was draining vast amounts of iron and minerals from your blood.

He immediately had the meal consultant switch your sustenance to iron rich and enhanced with trace minerals for your consumption. You are completely unaware but he notices you are not tired as often and your energy has returned.

Feyds newest dark desire is at the forefront of his mind each time you hug him or press your warm breasts against his face. He wants to drink milk from you. He withholds his small sounds of pleasure when he clings to you and your breasts press against his face. He wants nothing more than to escape into ecstasy with your warm milk spilling down his throat.

When he divulges his sick obsession to the doulah she only wants to accommodate him. She believes the underlying cause is severe maternal neglect. Maybe the maternal affection will heal him in some way.

When she informs him your milk will not be ready until the final month Feyd conveys he does not want to interfere with his unborns supply he wants to create his own for a short time.

She readily comes up with a solution to appease her Na Baron. She is able to track down a water soluable substance that will force your lactation for up to six hours.

It is used for bovines when the milk harvest decreases on Giedi Prime due to toxic conditions.

It will be completely safe for a pregnant human female at the correct dosage. He readily accepts the translucent liquid studying its contents in the vial with a grin of satisfaction on his face. A new emotions over takes his body that he can’t describe. He thinks it is joy.

Just The One

As you get dressed for dinner in the basin room he unclocks a secret compartment in his kink cabinet. He retrieves the hidden vial and slips it into his pocket. He plans to secretly drug you into lactation tonight and have his fill of milk.

Once you emerge fully dressed his eyes fall to seduction. You’ve worn your hair up and have on a dark crimson red gown with sleeves that rest at your shoulders. The gown is low cut and snatched to your curves. “My Baroness” he says alluringly caressing you all over the shimmering fabric.

He trails his fingers along your covered breasts leaning in and placing a heated kiss on your collar bone. The ornate necklace you wore to cover your love marks is quickly snatched from your neck by Feyd.

He sucks onto your skin forming even more bruises where he finds space. He steps back to admire you trailing his thumb along the marks that make a collar. He smiles in satisfaction taking your hand and leading you to dinner.

As you enter the dining hall it is a quiet affair just you Feyd and Rabban at the expansive dining table. The Lord in waiting and advisors are in a frenzy completing the decrees and changes necessary to instate Feyd as the new Baron while his uncle lays dying.

Feyd sits at the head with you to his left and his brother to his right. The food arrives and is placed in front of each of you. You look at down at your plate to see your third serving of seared bovine meat with root vegetables of the day. You begin eating the vegetables first.

Feyd slips the lactation liquid into your drink with inherent skill. It goes unnoticed by all. He slides the vial in his sleeve and continues reaching for your knife cutting up your meat for you.

As you innocently take a sip from your glass Feyd wickedly smirks, his eyes glinting with delight. Realizing his ‘bovine Baroness‘ will be producing milk for him tonight hardens his cock. He palms himself under the table at the mere thought.

During the dinner Feyds attentions are focused entirely on you. His brother Rabban eats and rambles about the subservient ‘rats’ on Arrakis that he hunts and kills daily to protect the spice harvesters and the ever elusive rat leader Muad'Dib.

Feyd watches you finally empty your glass and hums to himself with a naughty smirk. He slips the empty vial from his sleeve placing it hidden under the ledge of his plate. You look over at him and smile your brows raise in curiosity due to his mischievous mood for the evening.

Rabban continues rambling and changes the topic one more time to himself before finally asking:

“How many children do you plan to have with my brother Baroness? How many nieces and nephews will I see running through the Harkonnen halls “ he smiles to you as he takes a bite and chews his dinner awaiting your numbered response.

Feyd finally pays attention.

You look up surprised and completely caught off guard by the question. You have not been initiated by the Bene Gesserit to have more than one. With the specialty of this child you realize all of your focus and energy will go into instructing the child in the ways on your own.

Once an adolescent the child will be warded by the Reverend Mother who will advance the inherited skills of the genetically supreme child to surpass all of the Bene Gesserits.

Feyd knows none of these limitations.

“I would like to focus all of my attention and energy on just the one” you answer honestly.

You glance over to confirm with Feyd and instead see defeat in his eyes.

It would give him no greater joy than to have several children with you. Growing up with only one tyrannical brother he wished he had other siblings.

Finding out you only want one is even more difficult for him to accept. It awakens the barbarian in his blood. He will get you pregnant as many times as possible. He smirks to himself how could you even deny him when he’s pinning you down thrusting you full of his seed.

Once the meal is completed and the table is cleared you bid farewell to Rabban. After walking only a few paces from the dining hall Feyds desires overtake him and he can not contain his sexual urges on the long walk to his chamber.

He pulls you into an empty darkened state room. It is reserved for hosting large banquets. Six stone pillars support the large atrium in the enormous space He pushes you against the nearest pillar kissing you hard as he unbuckles his pants and steps out of them.

He bunches your dress up to your hips as his fingers reach between your legs finding your panties and pulling them to the side. He presses his chest against you and pushes his fingers into your mouth. His panting grows heavier as he collects your saliva and pushes it into you folds.

Before you can even think he thrusts himself inside of you . He sheaths himself all the way to the hilt. You cling to him and moan into his ear as he lifts your legs around him and presses his hips between yours.

He holds your body up with his and begins fucking you against the pillar. You are moaning as he continues to rail you against the beam. He stares at your neck and sucks more bruises, the pain almost unbearable from his double markings on your tender neck.

You are overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts wracking through your body. You almost beg for mercy until your clit begins to throb as your nipples harden against your gown. You become so wet as he continues passionately thrusting it begins to feel pleasurable. He stares into your eyes conveying his wild unyielding love for you.

You love him too. You panic at the overwhelming intrusion of the thought and try to change your mind. You close your eyes to enjoy the carnal pleasure instead. His voice regains your attention “ look at me”’ he commands.

You open your eyes, as you do he presses his chest to yours and thrusts his cock its deepest inside of you throbbing your core. You cry out from the sensation of him fully sheathed inside of you. His eyes gaze unto yours full of his undying love for you.

It sends a chill all over your body. You become so aroused you wrap your arms around his neck and cling onto him, your face is pressed to his shoulder. He re-grips higher under your thighs and plows his cock into you against the pillar. Your moans in unison fill and echo throughout the giant space.

As you orgasm he cums with you. Your walls milk his cock as he spills his seed. His grunts against your neck soften as his thrusts grow weaker. He stays stilled inside of you panting and looking back into your eyes uncertain if he should describe to you what he’s feeling.

He removes his cock as he settle you to the ground. As you both redress he speaks up “I will want more than one child with you.” He asserts.

It makes you go mute you know the order may never approve of this and you turn away from him not knowing what to say.

“Why do you mock me with your silence woman?“ he says with concern. “Because we have not even had the first” you admit “Then I want seven” he says pulling you closer, holding the back of your neck.

He places his hand over your heart “You will be a good mother” he says tenderly looking into your eyes “How do you know if someone will be a good mother” you ask naively.

You look and see the anguish you’ve caused to form on his face remembering his childhood. You quickly shush him pulling him closer wrapping your arms around him. You caress his back as he works through his pain.

After a moment of silence you try and cheer him up “Maybe you can tell I will be a good mother because of the way your uncle hates me so” you say sweetly. Feyd grins menacingly “he will will learn to accept you …or he will die.”

Bovine Baroness

As you study your body in the mirror, you notice your breasts have doubled in size. You turn to the side cupping them to be sure. Your pregnancy hasn’t even begun to show.

With confusion on your face you cover in Feyds black robe tying the waist as you return to him in his chamber. He is sitting up in bed waiting for you. As you settle next to him he peeks over at your enlarged breasts and maddeningly craves for them.

He pats his lap and you come to him. He easily pulls you to straddle him. He sees the concerned look on your face “What worries you?” he asks. He can already guess as he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.

You just bring his hands to cup your prominent chest. His entire body caves in as he smiles lustfully without giving away his intentions. The lactation liquid is taking effect and he’s going to milk you dry.

He slowly parts open your robe exposing your full breasts. His cock hardens beneath you from the sight. He tries to contain his heavy breathing.

He slowly cups your swollen breasts in his hands “There is milk inside” He says breathlessly feeling how they’ve grown heavier. “But it’s too soon“ you confess. “Well go see your Doulah in the morning” he says absentmindedly.

You see his breathing increasing even more, his eyes transfixed on your chest. He purposely kneads your soft full breasts in his hands. He pulls you closer and presses his face into each one softly caressing his cheek against them. The scorching heat of your skin warms his face. His length hardens solid

“Disrobe for me” he commands. He is near salivating wanting to drink from you.

You rise into a kneel and pull your robe from your shoulders. He grips the sheet on his lap bringing it down and releasing his firm standing cock. It slaps against his abs before settling straight.

He grabs your waist and pulls you close until your entrance is hovering directly above his cock. With your breasts in his face he squeezes them together in his hands “such a good mommy look at all this milk” he says softly peering up at you.

You feel so aroused by him and yet confused why your body is creating milk at this time. Your core aches for him. You watch as he opens his wanting mouth and sucks your nipple inside.

Your walls clench involuntarily as shocks of pleasure run down your spine. Your breasts are so full they tingle as your nipple hardens in his mouth. It sends chills all over your body as his warm mouth sucks you so gently. You feel his teeth graze onto the tender flesh making you softly moan.

He releases one and goes to the other sucking it in his mouth and tenderly biting down on the bud. “Feyd it feels so good“ is all you can say. “I haven’t even started yet” he says peeking up at you through his lashes with a smirk played on his lips.

He places your hands where his neck meets his broad shoulders. He begins squeezing and kneading your breasts a second time. He sucks them hard until your nipples are so taught they feel like they will burst.

All of his sucks and licks send shocks directly to your core. Your folds are soaked for him. He places his hands on your hips and pulls you down slowly penetrating you onto his large cock. He’s harder than ever as he pierces through your walls. Once you settle on the base you gasp and hold tighter to the back of his neck.

He leans in and presses his lips to your throat placing small kisses across the front. He grips your thighs and guides you with his hands making you move filled with his cock. He stretches you open rocking you back and forth on his lap as you sweetly moan.

He places his hands under your thighs lifting you slightly before settling you back down on his length in a rhythm. Your walls throb each time you settle on the base of his cock. Your core pulls tighter as you give into him lost in pleasure.

He parts his legs wider and slowly pushes his cock up inside of you as you settle down on him. You moan out his name as your mind goes fuzzy. You tilt your head back in satisfaction as you form a new rhythm working into each other until you both start panting.

As you grind slowly onto each other you let out sounds of pleasure in tandem. He watches your face in ecstasy as you make love to him. You moan in the air louder when he thrusts into you slightly harder. The smacks of his skin to yours growing louder with his increased stamina.

Your tits begin to leak due to your arousal and you look down stunned. He stops his thrusts as warm droplets pitter off your nipples onto his abs and into his lap. You are making a mess all over him you try to get up but Feyd holds your hips down firmly.

A shiver runs down your spine seeing the psychotic look in his eyes. This is what his depraved mind has been waiting for, his pupils slowly expand to black.

He goes insane and lunges his mouth onto your breast latching to your nipple. He cups your breast and whimpers as he sucks and his mouth begins filling with your warm milk.

He think he is dreaming as soft whines emit from his throat. He takes swallow after swallow wetly sucking milk out of you. Feyd releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and tilts his head back gasping.

A deep guttural moan emits from his throat as his cock twitches inside of you. He tilts his head up hungry for more and grabs your other nipple pulling it into his mouth. He makes pathetic whimpering moans as he suckles from you. He begins to powerfully fuck you thrusting his cock up inside if you as he nurses. He wants to suck you dry as he refills you with his cum.

His sucking becomes sloppier as he thrusts into you with wild abandon. He isn’t focused on anything his cock and mouth are being too satisfied at the same time.

Your clit swells and throbs as you become so wet you are soaking his lap. You let out moans he sucks and fucks into you. He switches and latches on your other nipple again.

His teeth are tugging on you as he nurses. He’s becoming violent sucking your nipple harder and wanting more. You cradle the back of his head to calm him and he lets out a sickly little moan. You slowly rock back and forth on his cock with his thrusts “Feyd I’m going to cum” you cry out.

He swallows his last mouthful completely draining your breasts of milk. His body trembles and tenses as he lets out a range of deep moans. You cradle his head to your chest as his cock ejaculates inside of you. You orgasm sliding up and down on him milking his cock hard. He clings to you with his eyes shut tight as you ride through your orgasms together.

You slow to a still in his lap both of you panting heavily. His body twitch’s and you caress your hand on the parts of him that spasm involuntarily. He had a mental overload of emotions. You look into his dazed out eyes down to the milk that still covers his chin and his chest. You want to clean him.

You carefully slide him out of you and climb off of his lap. He lays down wearily he can hardly keep his eyes open he reaches his hand for you and trails his thumb down your jaw “my bovine baroness” he says with a milk drunk smile. You smile back at him and stroke his temple.

You leave his side to collect a cloth. When you return he is laying peacefully asleep. You clean him of all or your milk dabbing his mouth and his chin softly. His face is so soft and angelic lips curved in a smile eyes shifting in a dream.

You pat the cloth down his abs and cock. Once he is clean you climb into bed behind him and place your arm over his ribs pulling him against you cuddling your face to his back. You quickly fall into a deep sleep.

Long Live the Baron

Feyd awakens from a nightmare he sits up in bed in the dark breathing heavily in a light sheen of sweat. It wasn’t the usual sex dream of you. In this nightmare you were screaming being taken away from him by force.

He quickly reaches and checks you are by his side. Feeling your soft warm skin under his hand he lays and presses a kiss to your neck. He loves you with a newfound ferocity after drinking from you. He pulls you closer to him and rests with his head at the back of yours inhaling your scent trailing his fingers through your hair. His heart rate returns to normal with you in his arms and he rests his eyes.

There is a sudden sharp knock at the door making Feyd sit up. He doesn’t answer he waits for his Page to intercept. Once his Page collects the message he speaks through the door knowing Feyd is a light sleeper and will already be awake. “m’Lord It is your uncle you must come to his chamber at once” his page relays.

Feyd gets dressed in his traditional Harkonnen attire. A plain black uniform with chest pockets and a high collar. He knows the outcome of this urgent request. He kneels next to you sleeping, and plants a kiss on your temple. He places his hand on your womb to his unborn. This is the moment he has waited his entire life for he leaves his chambers heart racing with adrenaline.

He is brought to the Barons main chamber and enters a somber scene. All twelve of the Barons advisors and his Mentat with their heads low surrounding the bed of the clearly deceased Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. He is dressed in traditional black attire clutching the Harkonnen crest at his chest. Feyds brother Rabban is trying to remain stoic but every so often his sniffling can be heard.

Feyds newly appointed Lord in waiting makes the announcement “Siridar Vladimir Harkonnen is dead, long live the Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen“

“LONG LIVE BARON FEYD RAUTHA HARKONNEN!” They all chant bowing in reverence to Feyd.

His breathing increases as his eyes dance wildly. He glances around the room at all the advisors and his brother bowing to him. Seeing his uncles dead lifeless corpse in the back ground he feels the elation rising in his chest. This is real, his honor fulfilled he is now the reigning Baron of Geidi Prime. He has a maniacal look in his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile.

Next Chapter->

Feyd Fantasy Part 5 Endless Empire (Series Finale💜) Plot =Baron Feyd | Feyd Supremacy | Harkonnen Heir

Special thanks warranted for following the series this far so happy to entertain you 😭🎉 anon requests for part 5 fic are closed TBA soon☺️

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[yazmarina]

feed your misery

oscar piastri x afab!reader, side lando x reader

oscar already feels as if he's taken everything away from lando. what's one more?

warnings/notes: smut, slight (?) angst, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is fwb with lando, post-hungary 2024

a/n: everything i write for this goddamn race is partly sad. but this is also sexy. i hope it's sexy enough :')

"Hey, race winner."

Oscar whips his head around, momentarily confused. He immediately grins upon seeing you, though he tries to conceal it, his face settling into a polite smile instead.

But you spot it, despite his fireproofs covering the majority of his neck. The deep blush creeping up to his face is just barely visible over the collar.

You stopped him just outside of his driver's room, his helmet in his hand and his race suit hanging off around his hips. He smells strongly of champagne and his hair is slicked back from all the liquor drenching it.

"Hey yourself," Oscar responds coolly, opening the door to his room.

"Congratulations again," you reply, your neck craning upward as you try to meet Oscar's eyes.

"Thanks," Oscar says, eyes scanning over your face.

"New hair?" He goes on to ask, tilting his head to the side to study you closer.

You nod. "Yep. I thought today might be special so I did something different with it. And, it turns out, today was special, with you winning and all."

You end your sentence with an innocent bat of your eyes as you grin girlishly up at Oscar.

Oscar bites down on his lip, forehead creasing, as if deep in thought, After a few more moments, he jerks his chin inward, gesturing you inside.

"Why don't you come in?"

You pause, glancing around to see if anyone from the team is nearby. You've never been inside either Lando or Oscar's room in the motorhome, despite the...situations you've found yourself in with Lando before. He always preferred to have you in highly private places, and you understand why.

Not that you were expecting anything to happen with Oscar at this moment, that would just be in bad taste, as if it wasn't bad enough that a press officer was sleeping with–

"You okay?" Oscar asks, already inside, his eyebrows raised. Your hesitation dawns on him quickly enough and his lips meld into a smirk.

"Why? Scared that Lando might see you?" he adds, depositing his helmet on top of his massage table.

You scoff, stepping into the small space of his driver's room. The door clicks shut behind you and Oscar just stares, waiting for you to say something.

"Why would I be scared of Lando?" You ask, a hand on your hip as if to challenge the driver.

"Well, you should be," Oscar warns with a laugh. "He's not in the best mood right now."

"And whose fault is that?" You question.

"Not mine," Oscar deadpans, expression turning serious. You pause, realizing that you've hit a sensitive subject matter.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," you quickly apologize, pursing your lips.

Oscar chuckles and shrugs. "It is what it is."

"Though, seeing you might help him, you know...blow off some steam," Oscar continues, giving you a pointed look.

You force yourself to meet his eyes. "But I wanted to see you."

Oscar blinks, his mouth falling open at your admission. He snickers, as if in disbelief.

"Did the two of you fight or something?" Oscar mildly accuses.

"No, it's just...I thought it would be better if I left him alone for a bit," you explain. "Like you said, he doesn't seem too happy at the moment."

Oscar doesn't respond. He just looks, taking in the sight of you. You'd kill to know what's running through his head right now, with the way his eyes travel down your body. The urge to fidget with your McLaren uniform is strong, your skin growing warm under his hardened gaze.

"And you thought you'd come to me?" Oscar questions. "Like a rebound?"

You pout, but guilt pinches at your chest at his words.

You and Lando were never official, that was clear to you both. You only ever started messing around after his win in Miami, the celebratory dinner and partying leading to you joining him in his hotel room, fraternization clause be damned.

Then it happened again in Imola, and again in his apartment in Monaco. And so it went on like that for weeks, and it was only a matter of time before an unassuming hickey peeking over the collar of your McLaren polo caught Oscar's attention

"Any large mosquitos around here?" Oscar had asked on Thursday afternoon in Barcelona.

You looked up from your tablet, giving Oscar a look as the two of you walked the track. He gestured to his own neck and your hand practically flew up to your throat, your eyes going comically wide.

"That's just an allergy," you lied, ignoring the looks from Oscar's trainer and race engineer.

After the track walk, Oscar chanced upon you alone as you headed back to the motorhome. He fell into step beside you, nudging you lightly.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Oscar asked innocently enough, looking genuinely curious.

Just then, Lando came into view, walking straight towards you from the opposite side of the paddock. He flashed you a smile and a quick wink and all the words you had were lost to the wind. You stuttered, legs stopping altogether, your whole body rooted in place.

Oscar followed your line of sight and audibly laughed.

"No way." Oscar practically giggled. He gave you a long, hard look as you tried to gather back your bearings.

"I thought you were supposed to be my press officer?" Oscar asked teasingly.

"I am," you answered defensively. "What, you want a blowie, too?"

Oscar spluttered, obviously shocked, but he played it off with a nervous laugh.

"I mean, if you're offering," Oscar shot back, head tilted as if to challenge you.

It was your turn to balk at his words, your whole face morphed into surprise.

"Oscar Piastri," you began. "I never took you for one of those guys."

Oscar just shrugged before leaving you standing in the middle of the paddock, dumbfounded.

"I genuinely just wanted to congratulate you," you tell him now, crossing your arms over your chest.

Oscar nods. "You've congratulated me already. Anything else?"

The room falls silent again and you feel your frustration rising. What did you want? Are you so easy that you'd throw yourself at the nearest race winner, hoping that the adrenaline ends in a good fuck? Would you be so callous as to get in between teammates right after a race like that?

As if on cue, Oscar sighs, running a hand over his face.

"I already feel like I've taken something from him. You'd just be the nail in the coffin at this point," Oscar continues, watching you carefully.

You know what he's implying, and you know he's right.

But things have been different with Oscar for the past few weeks after Barcelona and the whole hickey incident. It's as if he refused to let you out of his sight, suspicious of every moment that you aren't in his presence.

'Were you with Lando?'

'Are you going home with him?'

'I'll take you home. No, Lando, really. I got her.'

Which could all mean nothing, really.

But you couldn't be too sure, either. There's a gnawing feeling inside of you, an itch you can't scratch, not until you find out if this is what you think it is.

So, you bite the bullet.

"He doesn't own me, you can't take what isn't his," you state matter-of-factly.

"That's not what I mean," Oscar deflects.

"Then what do you mean?" You press further, tired of whatever this back-and-forth is.

Something flashes across Oscar's face, something you've never seen from this gentle of a human being before.

"If I fuck you right now, will it change anything?" Oscar asks, voice sharp and eyes steely.

You're taken aback by his candor, but it's a relief to hear it outright, finally out in the open. What you both came here for.

"It changes everything," you declare.

Oscar sighs. Then swallows.

His hand reaches for you and before either of you can think much about it, your lips crash into his, your back slamming against the door. You hear the click of the lock and it's like a trigger, the way it strips you of your inhibitions, your hands reaching up to tangle roughly in Oscar's hair.

He licks into your mouth, messy and uncoordinated, but you gasp and pant all the same, relishing in the way he grinds against your thigh.

"Hurry up," you urge as he parts from you, lips attaching to your neck, well above your collar this time.

Oscar merely hums, taking your skin between his lips and suckling hard. You whimper, knees nearly buckling at the sensation.

"Oscar, you can't–"

He pulls away, hooded eyes admiring his handiwork.

"I can. And I just did," Oscar counters, reaching behind you and immediately tugging the zip of your skirt down. The garment falls at your feet and you kick it off to the side.

"You know he'll hate us both for that," you point out, touching right where you know Oscar marked you, a hint of regret in your voice.

You never meant for this to happen. You swear you didn't.

"I'll take my chances," Oscar says with a noncommittal shrug.

He kisses you again, fiery and impatient. Your own hands tug down at his race suit, a frustrated groan erupting from Oscar as he stumbles out of it, undoing his boots in a hurry as he does so.

You're overtaken by the smell of champagne, and you know you'll end up smelling like it too once you're done. Lando would be suspicious. He'd ask. He'd press. He'd beg.

Oscar's bottom fireproofs and underwear are peeled off, leaving him bare from the waist down. Your bottom lip fits between your teeth as you take in what's between his legs.

"Like it?" Oscar asks, voice dropping an octave, pressing himself flush against you. He reaches down and rubs his tip over your clothed cunt.

You gasp, hips bucking forward to meet the sweet friction against your clit. Your whole body rocks with his as you feel yourself swiftly soak through your panties.

"Oh god," you whisper, your fingers digging into Oscar's shoulders.

"So this is what Lando gets after every race," Oscar wonders out loud, taunting you. "This is what you've been keeping from me, huh?"

You shake your head, not trusting yourself enough to speak without stuttering.

"Y-You should've j-just asked," you manage between ragged breaths.

Oscar snickers. "That easy, huh?"

Before you could reply, you're pulled away from the door and shoved towards the massage table. You catch yourself, grabbing at the edge before you can topple over.

"Bend over," Oscar commands, palm flat against your back. He's not pressing you down, his expression stern but cautious.

You can refuse.

You do as you're told, laying your torso flat on the table. Oscar tugs your underwear down, letting it fall to your ankles before you sweep it away with your foot. You arch up as best as you can, just as you know Lando likes, and Oscar curses under his breath.

"Oh, muscle memory," Oscar jokes, aligning his cock with your entrance.

You huff, intending to bite back, but your words cut short when you feel Oscar sheath himself inside you, agonizingly slow, stretching you out completely.

"Fuck," you sob into your hand, a slight burn between your legs.

"You're okay," Oscar reassures, pulling back before fitting back in. The second time is less of a shock but you squeeze your eyes shut nonetheless, still not accustomed to Oscar's size.

"I got you," Oscar supplants. He leans down to kiss your shoulder.

"So good. So good for me."

You let out a breath, your body easing up as Oscar gently takes hold of your hips, going out and back in for a third time. It's easier now and you blink away the tears that have gathered in your eyes.

"Yeah?" He asks, burying his nose in the fabric your polo as he peers at your face. You gaze back at him as best as you can, given the awkward angle, your heart clenching as you catch him looking, eyes shining, even in the dim lighting of the room, imploring you, wide and vulnerable.

You nod.

"Yeah."

Oscar tightens his hold on you and slams his hips against yours harshly. He's relentless, setting up a pace that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Oh my god," you gasp, voice garbled with how hard Oscar's going.

All you hear from Oscar is his shallow intake of breath, an occasional grunt when you clench particularly hard. The massage table squeaks beneath you, and you hold on for dear life as you feel your knees tremble.

It's a dizzying feeling to have Oscar this close to you, something you never thought you'd experience. And predictably, you can't help but think of Lando, somewhere out there, maybe even in the next room over, hearing you gasp and moan over Oscar's cock.

This is so fucked. This is unfair.

You whine when you feel Oscar push particularly hard inside, burying himself impossibly deep as you clench and clench and clench.

"Christ," Oscar mutters, thrusting into you shallowly. "I'm not gonna last."

You whimper, reaching behind you. Oscar grips your wrist, using your arm to anchor himself as he tugs you backward. You lift slightly off the table, the new angle allowing him to reach even deeper. His other hand remains locked holding onto your waist.

You know you look absolutely debauched right now, Oscar fucking you from behind like some bitch, in your uniform, no less. It sends your brain into a frenzy, knowing what this means, what it will mean after.

It doesn't take long before Oscar's rapid movements stop, his dick twitching between your walls, his cum spilling inside. He immediately lets go of your arm and you slump forward, exhausted.

Oscar drags his cock in and out a few more times, riding out his orgasm. You feel some of him drip out of you and you both groan simultaneously.

"Don't step in it," you warn weakly. You try to straighten up, your legs quivering from the effort.

Oscar maneuvers around the mess before bracing an arm around your waist and helping you up on the massage table. You watch as he bustles about, looking for tissues, handing you a few once he finds the box.

He retrieves your underwear from the floor and offers it to you.

"Was that too much?" Oscar asks, surprisingly tender.

You pause, unsure what to make of his question. It's nice that he's asking, but not something you expected.

"No," you say with a shake of your head. You push yourself off the table before hurriedly pulling your panties back on.

You can feel Oscar's gaze on the back of your head as you grab your skirt, dressing yourself silently.

"Are you gonna tell him?" Oscar presses. You turn to look at him.

"No. It doesn't matter, anyway," you reason. "We're not doing this again."

Oscar seems genuinely surprised at this. He catches himself and nods instead, portraying his understanding.

"It might matter to him, though," Oscar suggests.

You shrug weakly.

"I'll deal with it."

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 5

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Johnny recovers slowly.

-

Fifteen minutes? Simon messages you. A flare going up in the darkness, an SOS signal even if you don’t know the accuracy of the analogy. But he doesn’t hear back from you that day.�� Maybe what little luck he had left that wasn’t bad luck has run out. Maybe you realized that you had no real reason to be guilty, that Soap had stepped out in front of your car on purpose. You didn’t owe them anything. 

Simon wishes he could swallow that flare back up, eat it whole, let it burn him alive, but he can’t. Johnny needs him. 

Ever since the seizure, it’s been one bad pain day after another. The seizure itself was rough on his body, but so was how hard Soap fought afterwards, dealing himself damage that he didn’t even have the processing yet to tally up. 

Like clockwork he’s requiring those little green pills, choking them down on empty stomachs. Simon even has to break out what’s left of the sublingual morphine which they hadn’t used since Johnny first came home from inpatient rehabilitation. Only then will Johnny manage to fall into fitful sleeps wracked with nightmares and phantom pains from his missing arm. He cancels all therapy that week, hoping Johnny will return to his baseline soon. Hoping for the days he used to wish away. 

It’s hell on earth. Simon lays in bed beside him, ready to wake him from another nightmare, going on three days without sleep and he wishes that he had been the one in the helicopter instead. Wishes that it had killed him, since he can’t ever wish death on Johnny. Not ever. Not even when his boy begs for it. 

His phone buzzes, and it’s you: I’m free in twenty. Still need me?

Badly. Simon can’t remember the last time he showered. All he wants is fifteen minutes to scrub himself clean and feel human again. All he says though is: Yeah.

You appear just past twenty minutes later wearing a diner uniform. It’s cute: tight pants that hug your thighs and hips, a white button-down blouse tucked in, demarcation where your name tag used to rest.

Simon opens the door and ushers you in, somber-faced, like a pallbearer at a funeral. He goes to the bedroom door and glances in to make sure Johnny is out—there should be no waking him for the next two hours, but if there is one thing Simon has learned, it’s that God Laughs. 

“He asleep?” you whisper, lingering a healthy distance away. 

“Out like a light. I just need fifteen minutes in the shower.”

“I’ll watch him,” you whisper. Then you add: “I looked it up, by the way. What a seizure looks like. Just in case.”

Simon’s stomach drops between his knees. It takes him several heartbeats to realize that he isn’t nauseous out of any fear response, but out of sheer fucking gratitude. The feeling cuts through the fog in his mind like a knife through butter, and he feels like he sees you for the first time: your hair back away from your face, your healing bruises (and the new one on your chin), the embarrassed desperation in your eyes. You’ve latched on to Johnny too, he can tell, likely by some misguided guilt from almost hitting him with your car. But it’s there. He has a feeling that if Johnny were to take a dive off the balcony, he’d be taking you with him. 

You are completely unhinged. Borderline mad, even. Exactly what Johnny needs to keep him alive. 

“Fifteen minutes,” says Simon again before slipping into the bathroom, clean clothes tucked under his arm. When he resurfaces, only 11 minutes have passed. The military taught him everything he could need to know about thorough but expeditious showers. 

You are sitting at the dining table, having chosen the seat that gives you the best vantage point of Johnny’s sleeping figure in the next room through the doorway. Simon expected to find you on your phone, scrolling away, but it is nowhere in sight. You have sat perfectly still, watching Johnny. It would almost be eerie if he didn’t appreciate it so goddamn much. 

“We need to talk about this arrangement,” you say, clasping your hands together. You’re shaking. 

“You want out.” 

“What? No!” You both glance toward the bedroom, but Johnny snores on, in the throes of morphine-fueled dreams. When you speak again, it is quieter: “I don’t mind helping, but I can only check my phone at certain times of the day.”

This is the part where Simon asks why. But the question sticks to the back of his tongue like something unsavory. A more important question: can he afford to care why beyond what it means for him and for Johnny? The bottom line is that there will be long stretches of time where you’re unavailable. He can live with that. He’s been living with it, hasn’t he? 

“I’ll only ever need you when he’s asleep. If he knew I was letting you watch over him, he’d blow his top. I mean that literally.” Simon stands. “You want tea?”

“Tea?” You blink at him like the word does not compute. “Yes, please. Thank you, I mean.” 

“Just tea, don’t get worked up over it,” he mutters, going to put the kettle on. He needs a minute to fucking think. 

This goes against everything he was ever taught. The foundation of his personality is self-reliance, and it has been since he was a boy, since he learned that he couldn’t rely on adults for anything resembling stability. Asking for help feels like tossing up the white flag, like admitting he’s in too deep and he can’t take it anymore. It feels like failing Johnny. 

But there’s construction going on inside him. Those pillars of his personality are being torn down, and in their place something more important is being formed: a shrine to the only person who’s ever loved him that wasn’t his mother. If it’s good for Johnny, Simon must do it, even if it feels strange, even if it goes against all the strategies that have kept him alive in the past. 

When he brings tea back to the table, you try to drink it right away, scalding your tongue. 

“Slow,” Simon says. He didn’t even get the chance to offer you any milk or sugar. 

Face warm as the tea, you drink slower, tongue likely numb. The silence between you grows, adds up, and he catches you more than once looking toward the digital clock inlaid on the stove, like you are nervous and counting down the moments until you can escape. Like Simon frightens you. Fifteen minutes pass and more. You drain your cup. 

“I should go,” you say at length.

“Alright.”

“Thank you for the tea.” 

“Don’t thank me.”

You just nod and slip out of the apartment, quietly shutting the door behind you. Simon sits there for a long time after you’re gone, thinking over the arrangement. Thinking over you. 

You’re in trouble. He just can’t decide if he can afford to take on any more trouble right now. 

His tea has cooled by the time Johnny stirs in the other room, calling out for more pills. 

-

It does get easier. Tooth and nail they fight for every peaceful moment until they are able to string two of those moments together, and then two becomes three. Johnny is back to his old self—often angry, still pained, but with glimmers of the man Simon used to know shining beneath it all like diamonds under dirt. 

Therapy starts again, and so do Johnny’s tasks. 

The tasks aren’t therapy. They’re Johnny’s idea: each few days he picks a task that he used to be able to do before the accident and commits himself to relearning it. 

Today that tasks is unlocking the front door. He stands with his forehead against the oak, knowing Simon is somewhere on the other side, having heard him turn the deadbolt. 

The door has three locks. There is the handle which is the only one the apartment building originally supplied them with. There is the sliding lock, which Simon had installed on day two in the new apartment. It is only ever locked at night when both of them are home, and it is easy enough for Johnny to guide the wide end into the slot. Then there is the deadbolt, also installed by Simon, and easily the trickiest lock of all. Usually it requires the strength of two hands to unlock comfortably—but Soap’s down a hand and short on patience. 

“Jesus, get me in this apartment. Amen,” he mutters.

The key shakes in his hand as he guides it to the lock. It takes some fumbling, but he gets it after just a few moments. Then he must twist while pulling outward at the same time. It uses muscles in his arms that have grown weak with disuse. The key catches for a moment but then slides out of the lock uselessly. He pulled too hard; he did not twist hard enough. 

It’s a delicate balance, one he had perfected without even trying months ago when they moved in. Now it seems like a cruel and unusual punishment. If he can’t get this fucking door open, he’ll sleep out here, undeserving of his own bed. In his mind, the voice of encouragement does not sound so much like the calm soothing tones of Andy—his physical rehabilitation therapist—but instead the borderline abusive dialect of his superiors during his time in the military, the ones who had only ever cared about results and not much about the bodies getting those results. 

Footsteps come from the open elevator, and Johnny casts an irritated glance only to see that it is you. You are dressed for exercise, clingy clothes with running shoes and a baggy top thrown on over everything, drooping off of one of your shoulders. At the sight of you, Johnny remembers the lengths you went to to help him light his cigarette and his heart throbs with fondness, some of his anger evaporating like fog burnt off by the morning sun. 

“Afternoon, lass.” 

“Hi, Johnny,” you murmur, voice near a whisper as you cast a glance toward your own door. Maybe you are thinking about running from him. “Are you having trouble?” 

Johnny’s good mood dissipates. “No,” he lies. “Yes. I don’t fucking know.” 

“Can I help?”

“No,” he snaps. “I have to do this myself.”

“Where’s Simon?” 

“Inside.” 

“He’s locked you out?”

“Aye.” 

Your face changes. He knows you so little that it takes a moment for him to identify the expression for what it is: apoplectic rage. Your hands have clenched into fists at your sides, brows drawn low over your eyes as you glare a hole through the door. You reach out and take Johnny’s hand. He’s so fucking surprised that he drops the damn key. 

“Johnny,” you say. “You can tell me. Are you in trouble?”

“What sort o’ trouble?” 

“Simon. Is he good to you?” 

“Bastard eats my cereal and leaves the empty box behind, but aye, he’s good to me. Better than good. What’s all this about, hen? Simon locking me out? I only asked him to, that’s all—let’s me practice with the key, so I can open it on my own again,” says Johnny, stroking his thumb along your knuckles. 

You let go of him like you’ve been burned, face mortified. “Oh, God. I’m sorry Johnny. I misunderstood. Let me just—”

You bend down and retrieve the key, handing it to him. You can barely look him in the eye as you mumble a goodbye and rush past him into your own apartment, shutting the door solidly behind you. 

Johnny stares after you for a long moment, key held limply in his hand, mind far from the door. At last, he puts the key back into the lock. 

Twist, pull. 

[moonstruckme]

I’d love to see you write James and reader who’ve suffered the ‘never the right time’ trope, and finally, it’s the right time. It’s like so soft and just a moment of peace, like ‘finally, finally, it’s our time’. I have literally no ideas further than that, but I know you’d kill this Mae <3

hope you’re having a lovely day!

Thanks for requesting my love! Also, is that a new theme I see?? It's giving me renaissance vibes, like the clouds are going to part and there'll be an oracle and it'll be you ! I'm so here for it

cw: alcohol

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

Sirius and Remus keep fighting over who gets to play the music. Sirius more pointedly, tracking Remus down every time he has to change the record, whereas Remus just sneaks over while his boyfriend is occupied to switch it out again. Now Fleetwood Mac’s come on, and James can only assume Lily has finally stationed herself by the record player. 

A knock sounds at the door. Someone must have ordered pizza, he thinks. Anyone who goes to these things knows that Sirius always leaves the door unlocked. Being the closest to the door, James answers it. 

He thinks he stops breathing when he finds you on the other side, clutching a dissolving paper bag in both hands and nearly wet through. 

“Oh.” You look as surprised to see James as he is to see you. Which doesn’t seem strictly fair, because the last time he checked, he spends practically all of his time here and you live far away. Have since you took that cushy job right after school ended. “Hi, James.” 

“Hi.” His voice is mystified, tinged with the joy of the smile he can’t repress. “What’re you doing here, sweetheart?” 

“Remus invited me.” 

James stares at you. You look somehow exactly the same and yet impossibly more beautiful than he remembers. It’s odd seeing you out of your old school uniform, in a very adult-like coat that comes down to your knees and ties primly at the waist. Your hair is slicked straight by the rain, stuck in damp tendrils to your shoulders, and he swears your face has changed, too, a droplet of rainwater curving over a cheekbone he doesn’t remember being as visible when you were younger. 

“Um, can I come in?” 

“Yes! Yeah.” He steps out of the doorway, and your shoes squelch slightly as you wipe them off on the rug inside the door. James looks around as if for help. He thinks he spots Remus’ head poking out of the kitchen, but then it disappears. “Here, let me take your coat.” 

“Thanks.” You undo the tie for yourself, letting James pull it off your arms. “It’s really good to see you.” 

“You too.” He’s beaming; he can’t stop. “God, I just can’t believe you’re here. Are you in town for a visit?” 

“No, I—” You pause to give him a bemused sort of smile. “Did Remus not tell you? I moved back.” 

James feels like his chest has been hollowed out. Like someone’s taken out his heart and put the sun back in its place. 

“Really?” It comes out more breath than word. He fumbles for his voice back. “You’re back for good?” You nod, biting down on a smile. “When did you get here?” 

“A couple weeks ago,” you say, looking down to step out of your shoes. 

“What?” James’ tone is doing nothing to disguise his astonishment. He’s in no state to try and conceal it. “And we’re not hearing from you until now? You’ve only spoken to Remus?” His hurt goes unvoiced: Why didn’t you come find me?

You look sheepish. “I just ran into him at the store yesterday.” 

“Why didn’t you call?” 

“I didn’t want to assume…” 

You look like you’re trying to shrink away, but James gives chase, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. The cold of your clothes and hair sinks into him, and you both shiver. He only holds you tighter for it, scrubbing a hand up and down your shoulder blade. 

“You should have called,” he says next to your ear. “You know we’ll always want you here, love. We’ve missed you.” I’ve missed you. 

“I missed you guys, too,” you reply, squeezing him back. The paper bag you’re holding digs into his spine. 

James gives himself a couple more seconds before he releases you, taking the bag and unearthing a bottle of wine. 

“Nice of you,” he acknowledges. “Sirius will appreciate it, he loves reds. We should get you warmed up, yeah? Do you want some of this, or I could make you a hot buttered rum?”

You look like you could melt in relief. “A hot drink sounds amazing.” 

“Great.” He grins at you, knowing you have to go but unwilling to let you. If you leave his sight now you might very well disappear for another several years. After a second, his better sense wins and he juts a chin towards the stairs. “Go find something to wear. It’s the last door on the left, and the closet across from the bed should have things that’ll fit you.” 

James sees your protests in your face before they start spewing from your mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t—” 

“If you go into the kitchen all dripping wet, Remus will only bring you up there himself. Save yourself the time, love. He’d want you to help yourself, trust me.” 

You chew your lip, hesitant, but then another shiver takes you, and James gives you a good-natured shove towards the stairs. 

“Alright,” you capitulate, going. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.” 

“No hurry,” he calls up after you. Then high-tails it for the kitchen. 

“I cannot believe you’ve set me up for ambush like this,” he says as the door swings open for him. His two closest friends look up with expressions of equal guilelessness, though Sirius is putting on far more a show of surprise than his boyfriend. 

“I had no idea!” He insists while James stalks to the cabinet, helping himself to a mug and the supplies to make your drink. “Moony kept it from me, you know I’d have told you if I knew.” 

James glances up at him, then shakes his head, reaching over to flick the kettle on. “No, I don’t believe it. You’ve both been colluding against me.” 

“It’s only against you if it’s not good for you,” says Remus. “And I don’t see how y/n being here is all that bad for you.”  

“Yeah, I’d have thought you’d be fairly chuffed about it,” Sirius agrees, forgoing the innocent act as smirk curves his lips. 

“I am.” James blows out a breath. “I just wasn’t expecting to see her. I didn’t even know she’d moved back.” 

Remus shrugs, cracking open the oven to check on something inside. “Well, I think she might have been afraid to seek you out.” 

“Why would she be?” 

Amber eyes meet James’ with disbelief written all over them. “You know why,” he says softly. 

The kettle finishes boiling, and James turns to pour it over the contents of your mug. “Well, I directed her to Sirius’ closet as retribution.” 

He hears a gasp behind him. “You prick—”

The door to the kitchen swishes open, and you breeze in wearing one of Sirius’ hoodies. 

“Sirius!” 

“Hi!” He’s all smiles as he folds you into a hug, glaring sharply at James over your shoulder. “Fuck, haven’t you become stunning? It’s been awhile, gorgeous.” 

“It has,” you agree, looking slightly flustered by Sirius’ complimenting. Which, James notes, is an improvement over your school days; you were never able to weather it then. “It’s so good to see you.” 

You go to Remus next, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders fondly. “Glad you could come,” he says. 

“Thanks for having me.” Your eyes move between the three of them, seeming to note their placement throughout the kitchen. “Sorry, were you all busy talking about something?” 

“Actually,” Sirius says, “Remus and I were just canoodling when James interrupted, quite rudely I think. If you’re going to join the party, please take him with you.” 

“Alright.” James takes your drink and grabs a cider for himself, nudging you towards the door. “No need to be a dick, just come find us later.” 

Sirius winks at you both as James ushers you out, Remus sending him a long-suffering look from by the oven. 

“Nice to know some things don’t change,” you laugh, finding a space on the couch for you both. 

“Yeah,” James sets your drink down in front of you, “I doubt those two ever will.” 

“Thanks. Ooh, this is nice.” You take the clear mug between your hands, lifting it up to admire the liquid inside. “When did Remus get so posh?” 

“Well, Sirius lives here now.” 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen, surprise and maybe a little of something else. “Wow, that’s so lovely for them. Then, is this Sirius’ sweatshirt I’m wearing?” 

James chuckles. “You could tell, huh?” 

“None of those looked like Remus’ clothes. Are we punishing him for something?” 

He raises his own drink to his lips, hiding his smile. They’ve always come especially easily around you. “Perhaps.” 

You hum, take a sip from your mug, and hum again. “Shit, this is really good. Thank you.” 

The praise settles comfortably in James’ stomach, as warm and mind-fuzzing as if he’s had a gulp of your drink himself. “Anytime, sweetheart.” 

This time, he notices your eyes flicker away from his at the endearment. “So,” you say conversationally, “how’s Lily?” 

Ouch. James glances behind you to where Lily has pulled a chair over near the record player. She’s sipping from a glass of red wine that’s only a couple of shades darker than her hair, smiling at something Pandora’s saying. 

“She’s good,” he says. Then, somewhat abruptly, “We’re not together anymore.” 

Your eyes flit to his, something almost like guilt twinging across your features. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you say. The caring in your face is nearly too much; James wants to take it between his hands and kiss it all over. “Are you okay?” 

He gives you a smile. “Yeah,” he says sincerely. Perhaps with too much feeling, because your eyebrows bunch slightly. “It happened a long time ago. Not long after you left, actually.” 

“Oh.” You nod, and James finds himself watching you more carefully than he normally might. He waits for the sense of bliss he’s feeling to find its way into your expression, but you still appear hesitant. “Can I ask if something happened? You just, you were together for so long…”

It’s true. Most people they knew, even Remus and Sirius, thought Lily and James would be married someday. In the end, it just seemed that they’d been together for so long that their relationship had become a routine instead of a choice. They were cohabitors more than partners, and when they were doing everything they could to spend time away from their shared home, Lily had been the only one brave enough to call them both out on it. 

“We just wanted different things,” James says. Namely, Lily wanted Mary and James wanted you. Had for too many years. 

You make a soft sound. “I suppose that’s how it goes, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So, come on—you’ve had my update, let’s have yours. How did you like your job?” 

You pair your shrug with a small smile. “Not very well, honestly. I don’t think I really fit there.” James tsks sorrily, and you shrug again. “It’s just as well. I missed you all too much. I wanted to give it a try there and I did, but I’m glad to be back.” 

“Ah, well,” James says. “I suppose that’s how it goes, isn’t it?” 

It’s a terrible joke, but you laugh, the sound like water trickling over stone. He feels the smile spread on his face. 

“I really have missed you,” he says, earnestness aching in the back of his throat. 

A similar sentiment reflects back at him in your eyes. “Same here.” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad I am, too.” 

“Would you want to get coffee tomorrow?” With anyone else the invitation would seem abrupt, but your smile looks something like relief. You’ve both been waiting for this for too long. 

“That sounds nice,” you say. 

“Great.” James can hear the love in his own voice. It’s probably written all over his face, too. Just as well. “There’s a new cafe by my place that has really good almond croissants, would you want to meet there?” 

You nod, not trying to downplay your happiness. His heart swells to see it. “I love almond croissants,” you say. 

James remembers. It’s one of the things he’s glad to know about you. There was a small, censured part of him that took satisfaction in knowing those things even when he was with Lily. It’s not something he’s ever been proud of, but a spark of that satisfaction comes back now. 

“Perfect,” he replies. Behind you, Remus is letting Sirius pull him out of the kitchen. Remus folds himself into an unoccupied chair, where Sirius happily sprawls across his lap. They’re both pretending not to be watching you. “How’s one?” 

“Not soon enough,” you say without hesitation. You take another sip of your drink, miming unconcern, but your eyes are playful. “Ten?” 

James feels like his face could split in half. “Ten it is.” 

[conelluwrites]

the red means i love you

Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)

posted on my AO3

word count: 2.6k

title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking

You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.

“Mmm…”  The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?”  His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings.  His hair is just barely out of place.  Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.

“W-Wha-!”  The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist.  One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone.  Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room.  His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.

“Shhh, shhh…  There’s no reason for you to be afraid.”  He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck.  “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…”  His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries.  It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked.  “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want.  No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear.  Sounds pretty nice, hm?”  His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.

“But I gotta protect my neighbors.  My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.”  She says, her voice trembling.  Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.

“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.”  The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head.  He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist.  His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape.  There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human.  “But how many times have they let you down?  Surely they have failed you before.  People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone.  I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”

Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors.  “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”  The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have.  He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp.  If he wanted to maim her, he would have already.  “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling!  I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.”  The doppelgänger earnestly insists.  His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her.  “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours…  And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.”  He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers.  The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt.  “C’mon… please trust me.”

“But I-”  her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.

“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?”  He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans.  His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself.  “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”

She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face.  “My apartment is on the first floor.  We… We can go there together.  We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”

Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, “That sounds perfect.”  He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room.  The walk to the apartment is short.  As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space.  “Nice place.  So cozy…”

“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”

Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement.  After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone.  Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object.  “You’re so brave, you know.  C’mere.”

She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there.  The doppelgänger is taller than her.  Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing.  He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch.  He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings.  He drawings circles on his back with his free hand.  He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck.  Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck.  Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt.  Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away.  The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.

The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch.  If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion.  His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly.  “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”

“...”  She considers his words carefully.  Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can.  But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to.  She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck.  She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t.  “ I promise.”

“Good girl.”  He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck.  Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her.  His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair.  The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her.  “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”

“Oh?  Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.

Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck.  “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.”  With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening.  They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds.  With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool.  “Just relax, enjoy this moment.”  She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating.  “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly.  There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her.  Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound.  He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.

“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.

“Only for me to look at later.”  He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh.  The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away.  Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers.  “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest.  They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.”  She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.

“You should know more than that.”  He growls. “We could use your help some day.”

“We?  You want me to help the doppelgängers?”

“Of course.  Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out…  You could be helpful in our cause.”

“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest.  His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing.  “Though…”

“Though?  You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family.  Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”

“Mm.”  She weighs his words carefully.  In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet.  “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them.  Does that make us mates?”

“Indeed.”  Silence stretches between them for a moment.  “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.”  He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.

“Ah, like marriages for humans then?  Do you want to consummate our bond?”

The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing.  “Yes.  But we must proceed cautiously.”

“Why’s that, my love?  Is your genitalia that different?”  She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly.  The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.

“Hm…  No, not quite.”  There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities.  “Our release is also quite different, I believe.  Is that okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes.  I want to be your mate, so please…  mate with me the way doppelgängers do.”  Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph.  The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise.  The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform.  Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense.  His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips.  His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum.  He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.

“Lie back.”  He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger.  She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently.  There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head.  She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties.  His gaze is full of pride.  “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”

“You’re perfect.”  She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly.  Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth.  She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex.  The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size.  She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.

He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly.  “You’re tight.”  He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep.  The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.

“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected.  So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance.  “I was scared about the bars, but shit…  your cock is so perfect for me.”  The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.

“That’s it!  Take everything I got!”  He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips.  “Answer me, would you want children?”  He gasps urgently.  Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.

“I-I-!  Yes!  I want to swell with your young.”  She says lovingly, moaning.

He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips.  The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership.  “Perfect.”  He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him.  “Ride me until we’re done.”

She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt.  “Fuck, baby…”  She breathes out, her hands on his chest.  Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.

“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.”  He orders hoarsely.  He hisses as her cunt adjusts.  The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her.  His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.  

She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster.  “I-I-...”  Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence.  She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him.  Instead, she leans down to kiss him.  Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.

“Say it.  Tell me how much we mean to each other.”  He demands huskily.  His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second.  It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.

“I love you, fuck, I love you!”  She moans loudly.  Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock.  “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.”  She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him.  Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt.  His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him.  Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him.  Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen.  She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.

He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock.  He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest.  It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake.  “Our bond is sealed.”  He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.

[write-tama]

"to live with the milkman."

╰┈➤ francis mosses (the milkman) x doorman!reader

sypnosis ; reader is worried because francis hasnt been seen in a week. they decide to pay francis' apartment a little visit..

containing! ; lois stilinksy, working as doorman, gender neutral pronouns, use of y/n, francis being a little sick and out of uniform, francis and reader eat mac n cheese tg :3

authors note ; this is lowkey a slowburn-- i didnt mean to write so much D: i started writing yesterday morning and just finished this morning LOL but ya its very just wholesome and soft ^^

4.12.24 | 2.7k words

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

As a doorman, you realize a pattern of people would often come and go through the apartment. You know who goes to work in the morning and who comes home in the afternoon, and you know what days they typically go out and days where they don’t.

So, I'm not totally creepy when I say I've noticed a shift in Francis’ schedule, right? He’s not one to typically go out unless he has work in the morning— which is usually Tuesday through Friday, but lately, I haven’t seen him all week.

Nothing but the worst truly went through my mind. He could’ve been eaten by a doppel, or worse, was mistaken for a doppel and was exterminated on sight! These anxious feelings went through my head as I nervously clicked my pen. I glanced at today’s list again, as if magically waiting for his name and picture to show up on the piece of paper.

click, click, click.

Through the office window, I heard the subtle steps of heels clicking against the worn tiles. Sighing, I sat up straight and folded my hands in front of desk, forcing my anxious thoughts to the back of my head in order to continue doing my job. I looked up to meet the gaze of thick magenta bangs with eyes barely visible I sort of wonder how she even navigates through her surroundings.

“Good afternoon.” She greeted, her thick lips curling into a polite smile. I nod as I took her ID and entry request through the letter box, scanning through the documents for any misspellings or misinformation. As I carefully examined the print, I notice Lois’ lips pursing into a curious point.

“You looked troubled, sweetheart.” She noted. “Is everything alright? Besides work-stress that is.”

I sighed a little, placing her card down before looking through today’s list. I checked off Lois’ picture before turning to my request checklist. “Yeah, I just.. I don’t know. Have you heard from Francis recently?” I asked, not even masking the worried tone in my voice. Lois hummed a little, as if thinking about the last time she has even seen the man.

“The last time I saw him, he looked extremely tired. Like more tired than usual. I think he was just coming home from work? He was coughing and sniffling a lot.” She recalled. “Poor boy.. He must’ve been sick for a while.” Lois shook her head. With her words I felt like a pressure had been released from my chest. Oh, good, so there is a chance he’s alive, I thought to myself. I slid back her ID and smiled.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry, I just get worried knowing that a neighbor could’ve been killed by a doppel or any force of nature of that matter.” I lightly chuckled. Lois smiled, taking her ID before looking at me.

“You should talk to him. I’m sure he could use the company right now.” Lois suggested, but through that grin I could see that teasing smile.

I sighed a little, a little grin starting to form on my face. “C’mon, Lois, that would be way too embarrassing!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms in my chair. Lois lightly giggled, raising a white glove to stiffle her laughs.

“Oh, it won’t hurt, honestly! You never know what could happen~” she said, all singy-songy. I rolled my eyes before pressing the unlock button.

“Yeah, yeah. The door’s right there.” I sarcastically replied, a big grin on my face.

“Just think about it!” She called out as she walked through the door. I shook my head in amusement, listening to the door click behind her. I locked the door and returned to my previous slouched position.

Maybe I should pay him a visit.

My shift ended around late evening. I packed my bag and slid on my cardigan before locking the door behind me and hiding the key in a place only the next doorman would be able to find it. As I walked towards the exit of the building, I thought about what Lois had said earlier about paying him a visit. I never even really attempted to go past the lobby area of the apartment building. I had no purpose to anyway. And plus, it would’ve been a lengthy process to even request a visitor’s pass due to the security. I looked over to the doorman’s office, realizing that as of now, no one is on duty. Would it be morally wrong to go against the rules of the literal job I worked in?

Maybe.

But maybe my curiosity and anxiety could take over just for this one moment.

I walked back to the doorman’s office and unlocked the door. I placed the key back in its original hiding place before entering. I made sure to lock the door behind me before taking a look around the room again. Behind the doorman’s seat, there’s a door that leads to the stairway of the apartment complex. Its main purpose was to serve as a fire escape just in case of an emergency. Eagerly and swiftly, I gently pushed the door open, making sure to not make much noise. Once I walked out, I was met with the smell of old concrete and a spiral of stairs. I sighed to myself, remembering that Francis does in fact live on the third floor.

The stairs felt endless as my shoes clicked on the hard concrete. Fortunately, I only had to take a break only two times. I was finally at the end of the stairs, my legs tired from the endless climbly. I pushed the door open and was greeted with a typical carpeted hallway with blinding yellow-white lights that nearly burned my eyes. I sighed before trailing through the doors, looking at each number plate in order to locate the right room.

“Room 02, room 02..” I hummed to myself, just like how I would while scanning through files. After turning a corner, I was finally able to locate Francis’ room. I raised my fist to knock at the door, but the soft, soothing sounds of piano muffled through the wood. I stopped in my tracks, feeling as if my knock would disturb the perfect flow of the keys as I’m sure its song filled the apartment with grace. I waited for the keys’ song to slow to an end, the melody slowly fading out of the air and a sigh following its silence. I couldn’t help but smile, and sure this gave me enough proof that Francis was in fact still alive, but.. Something about his skills on the piano made me even more intrigued by the man.

I gently knocked with my knuckles, but making sure I was firm enough for the knocks to even be heard. From inside, I heard a chair scrape against wooden floorboard before footsteps steadily approaching me. A couple locks were undone before the squeak of the door filled my ears. I looked up and there Francis was— his eyebags were relatively darker and he was still in sleep attire with a baggy set of pajama pants and a fitting white tee.

“Oh— uh, (y/n)—” he said a little shocked to see me. I smiled a little, tilting my head at him.

“You shouldn’t have opened your door so fast. I could’ve been a doppel, y’know?” I advised. I heard him suck air through his teeth as he realized his rookie mistake.

“Mmm.. I’m sorry..” He mumbled, making me raise an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve been worried about you since I haven’t seen you in a while. I just.. Wanted to check if you were okay.”

Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise. It made me wonder if anyone else but me paid him a visit due to his absence. We lingered in silence for a minute. he stared down at me as I stared up at him.

“..May I be invited in?” I requested, breaking the silence. Francis blinked his eyes a little, as if he had been lost in thought previously.

“Mmm.. ID and entry request, please?” Francis teased, smiling a little. I scoffed, immediately catching on to his wittiness.

“Ha ha, very funny, Mr. Mosses.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes. His grin grew wider, clearly amused by reaction. He stepped aside from the door, allowing me to enter. I walked in, bag still clutched to my side as I took a look around the apartment.

It was humble but quaint space. The ceiling lights were off and frankly looked like they were never used, however, his lamps illuminated a soft warm orange on his furniture. He had a small box TV and dull red couch with a small round coffee table planted in the middle. Huddled in a corner was his old piano he must've been playing earlier. Francis closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it as well. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” He apologized, quickly rushing to his couch where clothes scattered over the armrests. He went down a small hallway I assumed to be where his bathroom and bedroom was. I took off my shoes and placed my bag on the table that sat next to the door before sitting myself on the couch.

I sighed a little, almost drowning into the soft pillows. It almost made me question why he would be struggling with sleep if he has a couch as comfortable as this. I could see a bit of his kitchen from sitting on his couch. It was a decent size with counters on one side and the appliances on the other. It seemed like he had something on the stove cooking as well.

Francis walked in shortly after and took his seat on other end of the couch, keeping a distance between the two of us. I brought my knees to my chest while hugging his couch pillows. I looked at him for a bit, trying to figure out myself as to why he hasn’t been out recently. Not only was his dark circles were more apparent, his hair was a little longer and messier. He looked paler than usual as well. Francis turned to me, a curious look on his face.

“Is it apparent..?” Francis asked. I furrowed my eyebrows, a little confused on what he meant.

“Hm?” I hummed in response.

“That I’m coming down with something.” He chuckled slightly. I shrugged a little, leaning back on the couch cushions.

“I mean.. Your hair is messier.” I smiled, admiring the frizz on the top of his head. Francis quickly glanced up before running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not that messy..” He sighed.

“Well, I wouldn’t know. You always got that milkman hat on the top of your head.” I laughed. I glanced over to the kitchen again, realizing that steam was coming through the glass lid. “I think you might want to get that.” I suggested, nodding my head towards the stove. He hummed a little before getting off of the couch and heading towards the kitchen. I watched as he reached the top of the cabinets, stretching up with ease. I couldn’t help but stare at his broad shoulders to his slim waist defined by his white shirt.

“Hey, I made mac n’ cheese if you’d like a bowl.” He offered, his voice immediately cutting through my daze.

“Oh— uh, yeah of course. I was about to get dinner after I got off my shift but here I am.” I chuckled. He nodded before grabbing another platter to make my own plate. I sat patiently on the couch before noticing the remote on the coffee table. “Hey, can I turn on the TV?” I asked.

“Hm?” Francis hummed from the kitchen. “Mmm.. Sure. I don’t mind.” He shrugged before turning back to his task.

Something about this felt so.. Safe.. And homely. I felt comfortable, despite me never even being in Francis’ apartment before. It felt familiar, and I couldn’t lie to myself and say that this is the most peace I’ve felt since the news of doppelgangers came out. I picked up the TV remote and flicked it on, browsing through the channels before find a movie we could idly have in the background.

Francis came out of the kitchen, holding two bowls with forks in each. This time, he took his seat much closer to me before placing my bowl on the coffee table. “Thank you.” I politely nodded. I took the bowl and started to eat. Honestly, to my surprise, the food was actually pretty good for a man who worked day and night. I was enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of us as we enjoyed our dinner together— something I barely saw myself seeing tonight.

“Hey.. (y/n)?” Francis mumbled quietly.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I replied, taking another scoop of the creamy mac n’ cheese to shove in my mouth.

“Why did you.. Come here?”

Something about that question made my heart skip a little. Why did I come here? I mean— I came here to make sure he was okay. That’s my job as doorman. To make sure all of the neighbors are safe and alive. But even when I heard him through the door, clearly shown to me that he is still breathing, I stuck around anyway.

Why did I come here?

“Well— I uh..” I trailed off a little, sort of lost to where I should even begin. “I was just worried about you. That is my job, no?” I said, clearing my throat. I kept my eyes on the screen, a little embarrassed to even face him.

“Mmm.. I don’t entirely believe that.” He hummed. “You could’ve called.”

Oh, fuck, yeah no— he’s right.

Ugh, Lois!

You set me up!

“That’s true..” I chuckled. “I guess you caught me.”

“Mmm..” He mumbled. He placed his now empty dinner on the table before folding his hands in his lap. “So..?”

I took a deep breath, feeling my heart beat fast inside my chest and a warmth creeping up my whole body. I placed my bowl onto the coffee table as well, and finally mustered the courage to look at him in his eyes.

“Francis..” I mumbled. He leaned in a little closer, as if he wanted to lean into my words and trusted them to embrace him.

“I.. I just.. I think I like you..” I trailed out. My head felt cloudy as a tingling sensation danced all over my skin, feeling like a little kid during recess confessing to her elementary school crush. “I've liked you.. Ever since we met. I never really said anything because I felt like you weren't necessarily interested in a relationship.. But Lois and Rafttellyn would always point out how you would look at me and I just—!”

A strong hand placed firmly on my cheek— so cold against my blushing face— pulled me in to meet those soft lips of his. I was completely silenced and wide eyed, but I knew what he was telling me. Everything in those pink lips told me that everything was going to be okay, and he liked me just as much..

I fluttered my eyes closed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to his chest. The TV buzzed in front of us, sputtering incoherent actors cracking jokes and delivering their lines. Our finished bowls of dinner were scattered on the table, but it was easy to tell the food was delicious for no piece of macaroni was left unnoticed. I pressed harder against his lips, letting the thought of breathing slip my mind.

If this is what it's like to live with him—

To spend our evenings chatting

Eating dinner on his couch

Watching TV while enjoying each other's presence

Then maybe I could get used to this.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

tagging ; @crybabies-heart @shypizzaperson @your-local-oc-maker @spearsillustration @mochi46106 @seraphlin @glxyaaandromeda (some ppl i tagged either bc they followed me on my old acc and just some ppl who interacted with my past content and just thought they would be interested in this fic :3

thank you so much for reading and reposts and likes are always so, so appreciated <3

[divineecelestial]

Pretty Girl [3] Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie thinks he'll actually die if you keep ignoring him. So he's going to make you talk to him. Even if that means climbing through your window.

Word Count — 3.1k

Warnings — graphic depictions of sexual activity, oral sex (fem receiving) dirty talk, Eddie jerks off while eating you out

18+ ONLY

I didn't forget about you sluts.

“I can take you home.” 

You watched as your group of friends slowly disappeared from view, their voices diminishing into silence as the car drove further down the road. The smile faded from your lips as a chilly breeze crashed against you were overcome with the realization that you were alone. Both literally and figuratively. Your friends, something you weren’t even certain you could call them, had forgotten you. No, that wasn’t the right word. Left you must’ve been more accurate because they knew you were there but none of them seemed to even care they left you alone under a yellow streetlamp on an empty road as raindrops dampened your uniform. Yes, left behind was the right term for it. Disregarded and ignored. You glanced down at the brown stains on your white, or what used to be sneakers. Goosebumps rose on your exposed legs as you crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as you could. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the journey home as your eyes stung with warm tears.

With reluctance, you peered over your shoulder and sighed shakily. There was a flicker of anger passing through you as you took him in; casually leaning against his van with his adorned hands stuffed inside his pockets. Of course, he was there. He was always there whenever you needed him as far away as possible. You blinked away the dwelling tears and whirled around, ignoring his presence entirely. You didn’t make it very far before you heard his heavy footsteps near you. “Oh, come on. I might be a dick but I’m not gonna let you walk home alone, at night, in the rain.” You wanted to remark that ‘might’ wasn’t accurate. He was a dick. “Especially in your pretty little uniform.” 

You could feel your strands of hair sticking to your skin as you hesitantly faced him. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect me?” You questioned as if the mere idea of him keeping you from everything that goes bump in the night was ridiculous. Because that wasn’t him and that wasn’t how this dynamic worked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather take my chances with whatever is out there.” You said, glancing at the darkness surrounding the town. You knew what was out there. Dealt with everything that could’ve possibly killed you and survived, but here you were, dreading getting inside a car with him.

He loomed closer and your glare hardened as your nostrils flared. God, he couldn’t get over how pretty you looked when you were mad at him. You were finally acknowledging him again with that delicious anger he’d been craving. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t have even bothered to notice your wrath flaming beneath your harsh gaze because you were finally acknowledging him. You were finally looking at him with those damn eyes he swore he could lose himself in and he didn’t seem to care that you were only looking at him because you were on the verge of slapping him across the face.

  Things were different. And this time, this change wasn’t a welcome one and you were desperate for everything to suddenly transform back to ‘normal’. Or as normal as things could get between you two. The weekend arrived and you didn’t want to go anywhere, irrationally worried you were going to see him. Avoiding him like he was contaminated with the plague wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, before this relationship progressed, you didn’t go out of your way to speak with him, but now, you couldn’t even walk in the same hallway without being consumed by embarrassment. 

As ridiculous as this might’ve seemed, the kiss you abruptly pressed against him was strangely intimate. Well, for you it was. Because sex could just be something as simple as people seeking physical pleasure from another person. A simple hook-up. That connection was fiery, consuming, and temporary. You might not have had sex with him, but he allowed you to chase that all-consuming pleasure from him and you felt stupid for thinking he could’ve thought of you as anything other than some sex toy. You kissed him and he rejected you. 

“You don’t mean that.” His smirk was cruel and you were moments from scratching his face until he was unrecognizable. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll keep my hands to myself and drive with two hands on the wheel.” 

As soon as the words fell from his lips, another breeze moved through the ice-cold air and you shivered. The light rainfall slowly dampened his unruly hair and you knew the downpour was going to drastically change soon. You looked upward at the dark skies and clamoring clouds, silently cursing at them for this. Oh, gosh, this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t seriously be considering this. Sitting in a small and enclosed space with Eddie Munson for who knows how long after he had practically rejected you was outrageous. You were going to deny the offer when a loud crack echoed throughout town. Thunder. His smile only widened. “Fine. Give me your jacket.” He raised his eyebrows at the sudden demand but complied regardless. That’s how it worked between you both; you demanded and he complied. Most of the time.  In one fluid movement, his jacket was removed and he wordlessly handed it to you. You removed your backpack and cheer bag and roughly smacked it against his chest before walking to his passenger door, decidedly ignoring his groan. He quickened his pace to open the door for you. “If you try any of your shit, I’m jumping out of the car.” You warned.

His jacket was warm and smelled like his cologne and weed. You tightened the fabric around yourself and flicked on the heater. He pulled away from the school’s desolate parking lot and drove away. A minute hadn’t gone by before he opened his mouth. “Why were you at school this late?” He knew why. He had practically memorized your schedule and knew exactly what you were doing most days, but he just wanted to listen to your voice. It had been too long since he had heard your voice directed at him.

You were quiet and didn’t answer immediately. He was going to ask the question again before your voice filled the confines of his car. “Cheer practice.” You answered shortly, gaze remaining outside the window and at the passing blur of colors. “You?” You hesitantly asked. You didn’t know why you bothered asking. You knew what he was doing there. He was cleaning the mess left behind by the Hellfire Club and doing whatever else dungeon masters do. You only knew because the kids were practically attached to him. It’s not like you wanted to know or asked about it before. Of course not.

“Hellfire.” And you must’ve been delusional if you thought Eddie was granting you some kind of mercy and deciding to drive the remainder of the trip in sweet silence. Yes, delusional indeed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. These past couple of days, you know.” You did know, it was impossible to not notice such an imposing figure in your life like him. Beneath the facade of flippancy and sarcasm, there was the undeniable truth—he was hurt. And this wasn’t an ordinary kind of hurt. This was an ache that throbbed and demanded to be felt, the lifeless thump of a cracked heart before transforming into a sharpness, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Heartache was a disease desperate to be felt. The cure of his was inches away from him, shrouded with his clothes.

“I didn’t notice.” You lied straight through your teeth and he knew you were lying. 

His eyes remained on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “I just wish you would let me explain—”

You breathed in sharply. “There isn’t anything to explain.” Another lie. 

There was another crackle and a flash of light scattered across the sky. “Yes, there is. Just let me—” 

The driveway of your household was steadily approaching and you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, practically tumbling outside as soon as the van stopped moving. “Thank you for the ride.” He watched as you disappeared behind your door, closing it without glancing back. 

Beneath the warmth of your blankets, you readjusted yourself with your eyes closed. Your face was smushed against your pillows, a small sigh escaping you as you squeezed your pillow tighter. The sound of your window opening filled the silent air and your eyes snapped open, hurriedly looking over your shoulder before jolting upright. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere.” A voice said casually. “Cute.” 

The chill from the midnight breeze crashed against you like an icy tidal wave. Across the room, and casually perched on your windowsill, was Eddie. You rubbed the side of your face and groaned, promptly shoving your face back onto your baby pink pillows. You should’ve been worried, frightened even, that he had broken into your room, but the only emotion you could manage was exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the fabric.

This must’ve been a figment of his depraved imagination, a scene plucked from his dreams—you were languidly sprawled across your blankets and wearing nothing but a small nightgown. And that nightgown revealed the softness of your breasts as you slowly faced him, your bare ass peeking beneath the thin fabric. As you pressed your cheek against your palm, finally offering your hazy attention, the breath was stolen from lungs and he subtly latched onto the windowsill to steady himself. “You know, those friends back there didn’t really seem like friends. Just an observation.” He was stalling. He knew he was, but he was desperate for a semblance of normality. 

You breathed in sharply. “Well, you can keep your observations to yourself.” 

It was silent for a beat. “You wanna hear another observation?” He didn’t care if you didn’t.

You yawned, blinking slowly. “Not really, but I’m sure you're going to share anyway.”

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the annoyance searing your voice. “I think you like being around me because you don’t have to pretend. You can be your mean, stubborn, and bratty self around me. Around them, you have to be The Head Cheerleader.” You weren’t even focusing on the coldness filling the room or even acknowledging that he was inside your room. That hadn’t been processed completely. Yet. “It’s obvious. I don’t know how no one else doesn’t notice.”

Through your sleepy gaze, you narrowed your eyes. “You think you know me, Munson?” 

“No, I do know you.” He answered so surely. “I think you’re forgetting I grew up with you.” That wasn’t something you could ever forget even if you had tried. And you had desperately. “You were my first-ever crush. I was obsessed with you. Still am, by the way.” He casually added. “I grew up watching you. I memorized everything about you. I even watched those damn pep rallies for you. Failed classes so you could be my tutor. I even bribed Mr. Johnson so I could be your partner for the project that let me see those pretty little panties of yours.”

He moved away from the windowsill and loomed closer to the edge of your bed. “So I need you to understand something. You were my first and only crush. You were my first of many wet dreams. You were the only girl who made me nervous and made me feel like some lovesick loser because you looked at me. There were times when I couldn’t fucking function because you smelled so good, said something so damn smart in class, or yelled at Carver for being a dick. I need you to understand I have been and still am, fucking crazy for you and you kissed me.”

He kneeled, his tentative hands softly caressing your thighs before pressing a small kiss on your knee. “I need you to understand that I’m the loser who plays D&D with freshmen, sells weed, and hasn’t had a girlfriend, who fucking watches porn to practice for this exact moment and you’re you.” Another gentle kiss on your other knee. “And, fuck, you’re so perfect. The goddamn prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss on your thigh. “So damn smart.” Another kiss on your other thigh. “And you’re funny. You challenge me.” His nose nudged the hem of your nightgown as he licked the inside of your thigh. “So I do know you and I know you like me. And that’s something I can’t wrap my head around.”

You shuddered as his breath brushed against your skin, unintentionally wrapping your leg around his shoulder, your calf pressed against his back, pulling him closer. You whispered his name, a plead for something. Anything. Your voice, breathless and desperate, was a siren’s call and he would’ve swam to the depths of the darkest ocean to hear it again and again.

The words uttered from his flushed lips were barely processed as lifted the hem of your nightgown. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before closing them, almost as if he were murmuring a silent prayer, and he took a moment to admire the godly sight before him. Hidden beneath the softness of your nightgown and thighs was something he had only dreamed of. Yeah, of course, he’d seen pussies before. From porn, mind you, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t understand how you, probably the most perfect woman to ever roam this earth, had just become even better. 

You could feel each slow breath from him as he simply admired. “Do something.” You whispered. Your voice was a soft reminder that he needed to move, do something as you put it. Slowly, his tongue dragged across your pussy and a primal groan escaped his mouth. He pulled away suddenly and you glanced at him curiously. He looked concentrated, brows scrunched together in deep thought. “I-Is something wrong?” 

A moment passed and he shook his head. “I’m just trying not to cum.” He eventually said. 

You threw your head back and laughed, which was stifled by a moan as he shoved his head back between your thighs. His initial movements were experimental, unsure, but as he continued and listened to your sounds, he knew what he was doing. Sort of. “Fuck, yes.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and the moans slipping from your lips were unlike anything you had made when alone. 

This was the exact moment where Eddie decided he was going to marry you in the future. But first he was going to make you cum. 

With his tongue still flicking against your clit, occasionally sucking, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes. Your legs shook as he shoved two ringed fingers inside you, slowly pumping you and memorizing every detail of this moment before he gathered the juices of your arousal and jerked himself off. “So fucking wet.” He said, pathetically whining as the pornographic sound of your wetness coated his cock. “I don’t know how I lived this long without tasting you.”

Your thighs pressed against his face as your hand pulled his hair and he promptly decided if he were to die tonight, he would die a happy man. This is where he belonged. Most men wanted to be businessmen, sleep on a bed full of money with dozens of women keeping them company, but he didn’t. His face shoved between your shaking thighs, sucking on your clit as you yanked his hair and moaned his name, was where he belonged. “Please don’t stop.” You pleaded. And as much as Eddie loved hearing you yell at him, he decided this was how he wanted to hear you from now on. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my pretty girl.” God, him and that nickname were going to be the death of you. 

“I-I’m gonna—” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t finish your own sentence. 

His hand clutched your thigh with a newfound roughness, pulling your closer, and his other hand squeezed and tugged his leaking cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” His pace and movements didn’t change or falter. “Give it to me. Come for me, please. I need it.” 

At that moment, you decided Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was never getting rid of you because he ate your pussy like a starving man and made you cum until you saw twinkling stars. “You have the filthiest fucking mouth—”

His wet mouth pressed against yours, his hands coated with your juices and he clutched your cheek. “You taste that?” He asked after pulling away, his lips faintly brushed against yours, teasing. “That’s the taste of the prettiest girl—” He kissed you again and you were barely able to process the softness of his mouth against you before he pulled away again. “Who fucking likes me and can’t deny it.”

And his knees buckled as you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you. “What have you done to me, Eddie Munson?”  You mumbled. He could feel your glittering smile against his and there wasn’t anything more beautiful. 

He saw the gilded walls surrounding your heart and decided he was going to do everything he could to get there. He poked and prodded, tugged and pulled before deciding to take a jackhammer and destroy everything keeping him from you. “My five-year plan of seducing you finally worked.” And he stopped for only a moment, processing the mere fact that this was real. He was really touching you, tasting you, licking your cum off his soaked lips. “I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was low and below a whisper, his warm breath tickling your face with each word. You could feel the warmth of his lips touching your shoulder, a ghostly caress against your skin.  

You placed a few random pecks on his face. “I really like you, Eddie Munson.” There was vulnerability exuding from you, unlike anything he’d ever seen from you before. 

“So this is what the famous [Y/N] is like behind closed doors.” The pouring rain soaked the floor outside your room, the grey clouds visible through the droplet-covered windows.  "Who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so sweet?” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. “Shut up.” You laughed. He would've fought (and probably lose) anyone just to hear that beautiful sound again and again.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier. Oh, Eddie, please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” He mocked with an obnoxiously high pitched voice.

You decided a another kiss would be the best way to shut him up. “God, you’re so pretty I’m gonna faint.” He mumbled, squeezing your breasts and pinching your hardened nipples. “Can I please fuck you? If I don’t fuck you and cum inside that pretty pussy, I think I’ll die.”

You moaned into his mouth and he gratefully swallowed the sound. “Yeah, come on, Eds, fill me up.”

“Fuck yes.”

[sanemislittledemon]

Teaching you a lesson

what happens when Sanemi overhears a group of demon slayers talking bad about you and after he goes to find you. He has to teach you to love yourself.

Sanemi X plus size reader

MDNI

Warnings : NSFW, body image issues, bullying, body shaming, extreme dirty talk, Sanemis foul mouth, mild breeding kink

Sanemi was coming but from a long day from training, the sun was setting in the distance making the light glow from this sweat soaked skin, accentuating his scar ridden body. His ears perked up with he heard his girlfriends name from the group of younger demon slayers when he was turning a corner, Sanemi quickly moved back as to not be noticed ’ who the fuck was talking about my girl? ‘ he asked clearly irritated

“ did you see that girl that hangs around lord Sanemi? “ one of them said “ yeah! Why would a hashira hang around a girl like that when he could have anyone he wanted “ another scoffs “ she’s so fucking big! Like a cow, I bet he’s just with her because he pities her “ one says causing the group to laugh and make vulgar hand gestures.

Sanemi feels the veins in his forehead pop and his body ran cold then fiery hot. Before he knew what he was doing he was already behind the three younger slayers “ the hell did you just say? “ he asked his voice like cold death making the three jump “ l-lord Sanemi when did you get back from your training ? “ the first asked

Sanemi grabbed him up by his uniform shirt “ come again you little brat “ he spat angrily before continuing “ if I heard what I think I did you brats are dead meat “ all of the slayers wore a face of pure terror “ lord Sanemi I-I don’t know what you thought you heard but I-I “ the second one started but was cut of before he could finish by the pissed off hashira “ DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME YOU PISSANT “ he yelled at the other slayers before shooting all three a look that made their blood run cold “ I’ll kill you three right here “ he says voice low “ Shinazugawa? “ a voice came from behind the group making Sanemi shoot his head around ready to fight but his eyes fell on two fellow hashira the other that said his name, a hashira a short man with choppy black hair and a snake around his neck. one of his eyes blue and the other yellow, bandage wrapped around his mouth and wearing a black and white striped hoari.

The other hashira a women with pink hair tipped with green, a uniform top similar to his own and green striped socks “ the hell are you two doing here? “ Sanemi asks “ we could be asking you the same thing Shinazugawa, what are you doing to these three? “ Obanai the serpent hashira asks making Sanemi turn his hand back to the three one hand still fisted in one of their uniforms “ teaching these idiots a lesson “ he growls before snapping his hand back to the hashira “ they dared to badmouth my woman “ he finished

“ you mean Y/N ? “ Mitsuri the love hashira asks

Obanai sighs “ Shinazugawa, I know you’re angry but we can’t afford to lose anymore demon slayers “ he walks to Sanemis side followed by Mitsuri “ what did they say about Y/N? She’s so cute! Who would badmouth her! “ she squeals in her normal obsessive manner while blushing ear to ear. Sanemi feels his grip tighten “ I don’t want to repeat it but I think you can guess “ he replies darkly making the serpent hashira nod in understanding but the love hashira is still confused “ I don’t get it “ she whispers to Obanai making the man sigh “ we’ll talk later “

“ p-please lord Sanemi, we didn’t mean anything by it “ the third person says clearly scared,

The man in question snaps his head back, his dark eyes got impossibly darker “ these two just saved your sorry life’s, but if I hear anything again “ he cut himself off before dropping the slayer on the ground, taking his wooden sword and breaking it while swinging at the three demon slayers, knocking them out. “ Shinazuawa you didn’t have to do that “ Obanai says to the man, who throws the broken hilt down before replying “ next time I’ll destroy them “

Mitsuri was still concerned “ Shinazuawa, what ever those people said please don’t let it make you love Y/N any less “ she said with a burning passion in her eyes, typical for the love hashira. Sanemi looks down at the three with a sadness flashing in his eyes “ that would never happen “ he replies with a low voice before running in the direction of the wind estate.

Sanemi ran faster than he probably should have catching the attention of passing demon slayers with the look of confusion on their faces but he didn’t care the only thing he cared about in that moment was getting to his princess. The only person that brought him joy besides his little brother genya of course.

He should have seen it, the way the other lower ranking demon slayers were treating her. Sanemi finally put the pieces together in his head about why she never wanted to do things out in public with him or the other hashira.

He storms into the wind estate with a fiery rage but it’s not directed at his sweet and beautiful girlfriend but at those damned no names and himself for letting her suffer in silence like this. She was been hurt by these other demon slayers and he was too stuck up his own ass to see it. Sanemi runs through the wind estate looking desperately for her until he found their bedroom, he pulls the door open to discover Y/N standing in front of their full length mirror, staring at her mostly naked form with tear stained cheeks.

She notices him quickly “ Sanemi what are you doing home?! “ she yelled at the man as she’s trying to cover her body with her discarded uniform. Sanemis eyes bloodshot with anger as his eyes rake over her rounded figure barely covered by the uniform she’s holding to her skin, the scene before him rips a growl from his chest.

The man slams the door shut before storming over to her, his towering figure making Y/N’s breath stop for a moment. She jumps when Sanemi puts his hands on her hips, gripping them tightly while he pulls her to their bed “ sit “ he commands letting go of her and walking back to the mirror picking it up to move it in front of them.

Sanemi glances back to her “ if you take your eyes off this mirror you will be punished, understood? “ he asks in a calming manner that made a shiver go down her spine but Y/N nods in response.

Sanemi then drops to his knees, pushing her to lean back on the bed, he starts to kiss slowly up her thighs “ beautiful “ he mumbles into her skin.

The man leaves marks as he moves closer to her heat, slowly kissing and licking. Y/N is forced to watch herself in the mirror as the man paints her skin in purple marks and whispers praise into her rounded thighs before making his way to her stomach “ fuck baby so soft “ he groans

“ I’m going to mark every part of your perfect fucking body “

Sanemi bites into your skin making his way up to her breasts leaving marks around them but making sure never to touch her sensitive buds. Kisses his way to her neck leaving a mark there that has Y/N shaking “ S-Sanemi please” she moans out weakly. The man finally pulls back looking down at the art he’s made of her body, marks littering her skin “ fuck baby “ he moans slowly moving his eyes across her fucked out body. Sanemi then backs away completely and she watched through the mirror has he moves in behind her moving her body so she’s laying against his chest forcing her legs to spread with his own exposing her core to them both.

Her eyes move over her body taking in all of the marks the man left on her skin from her plush thighs to full hips and stomach to her breasts. “ embarrassing “ she whispers earning a swift smack on the thigh “ I will not allow you to insult something that is mine “ he replies then moves his hand down her body. His eyes dropping between her legs

Her core glistening “ your slutty fucking body is too honest “ he laughs as he drags his finger tips up her core. Sanemis eyes lock with hers through the mirror while he continues rubbing up and down her core without ever touching her clit “ P-Please Sanemi “ she begs while bucking her hips into his hand making him stop. The man brings his fingers to her lips and roughly pushes them inside “ you are going to take what the fuck I give you, understood “ he growls and uses his other arm to smack her plush thigh.

Sanemi pulls he’s fingers free bringing them down to her breast circling one of her hard buds ripping a moan from her throat that makes his cock throb against her back. Sanemi grinds into her “ you fucking feel how hard you make me? “ he moans into her neck

Sanemi keeps grinding his hips into her as he removes his hand from her breast, bringing it back down to her core. She’s panting against him, shivers rack her body as he rubs her gently before letting his fingers find her entrance circling it teasing making a whimper come out of her lips and her legs to shake.

He grabs her face with his other hand making her look down at his fingers through the mirror as he puts two fingers inside making her moan loudly.

“ fuck yourself on my fingers like a good girl “

Y/N let’s out a sigh as she works her hips against Sanemis hand, feeling his long rough fingers go deep inside her core. “ fuck baby I’ve barely touched you and you’re this wet? “ Sanemi moans locking his eyes with hers. His eyes dark and possessive “ I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock “ he says taking the lead and fucking his fingers into her faster making embarrassing noises fill the room.

Hand rubbing her clit as he fucked his fingers into her curling them at just the right moment hitting her weak spot, making her throw her head back against his shoulder “ what did I tell you “ he growled before forcing her head back into place. Eyes opened looking at how the flush from her face stretched down to her chest, eyes focused on how her chest heaves and her stomach clenches from the pleasure Sanemis fingers were giving her.

Suddenly the man spreads them inside of her opening her up slightly, stretching her for something bigger, the thought has her drooling “ look at this pretty fucking cunt “ he growls in her ear his hot breath ghosting over her neck making her shiver in his arms.

“ going to cum for me? “ Sanemi asks as he fucks his fingers in her deeply making the woman whine unable to answer. Sanemi smirks and curls his fingers hitting her sweet spot “ then watch yourself release all over my hand “ he commanded and with that her stomach tightened as pleasure overtook her, they both watched as liquid spilled over his hand and the mirror leaving her panting in his arms.

Y/N slowly moved her eyes up to meet his only to see the shock and arousal reflected there. “ fuck baby I didn’t know you had that in you “ he marveled as he pulled his fingers free moving them up to his mouth, she watched as he took them in and sucked all of her essence off of them.

Sanemis eyes shot back to hers clearly aware of what this was doing to his girl, he smirked “ don’t worry baby I’m not done yet “ he moved his legs so she could move, Sanemi guided her to the floor on her knees, the man made a show of slowly removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

He pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring free, it’s big with a thick vein running up the underside of it her mouth waters as pre-cum beads at the tip.

Smirking Sanemi says “ go on you know you want it “ before he guides it to her waiting mouth, circling it before pushing the tip in. Y/Ns closed her mouth around it and sucks ripping a moan from the man above her, Sanemi tastes salty from training but that just makes her core throb with need.

Y/N tries to take him deeper into her throat what she can’t fit she uses her hand, jacking him off in time with her mouth, paying extra attention to the vein on the underside of his cock making the man groan loudly and rub his hand through her hair just the way she likes it.

“ fuck that’s enough baby “ he says pulling her off his cock and into his lap, kissing her deeply and rubbing his tip against her slit.

He nips her bottom lip gently before grabbing her hips tightly and filling her up completely with his cock making her scream in both pleasure and slight pain from his size. Sanemi wastes go time in fucking deeply into her so deep she swears she can feel his tip kiss her cervix.

“ so fucking tight “ he moans into her mouth as he grips her hips harder and forcing her down on his cock while fucking his hips up into her making her whole body shake.

Sanemi releases her mouth opting to lick at her breasts sucking more marks into them before taking a bud in his mouth licking and sucking on it hard while he sets a punishing pace with his thrusts.

She feels her stomach tighten with pleasure as he abuses her sweet spot “ that’s it baby take my fucking cock “ he groans licking her hard bud making her scream

“ louder! Make all of them hear how good I make this pussy feel “ he moans into her skin

At his words she feels pleasure shoot up her spine as she cums around his cock as Sanemi fucks into her harder before cumming inside feeling her with his warmth. But before she was able to catch her breath Sanemi flips her over onto her knees, pushing into her again making her scream with the overwhelming pleasure.

The man sets a punishing pace making sure she takes every inch of him as he reaches forward to grab her hair in his fist pulling her face off the bed so he can hear her beautiful moans.

Sanemi leans forward to bite at her neck “ have you learnt your lesson? “ he asks with a growl in his throat

“ w-what lesson? “ she asked breathlessly

Sanemi bites her neck harder making her whimper “ listening to options from assholes that don’t matter “ he says between thrusts “ i better not ever see you thinking negative about something that’s mine again, understood? “ he asks as he smacks her rounded asscheek

That sends her over the edge cumming for the third time as he quickly follows filling her to the brim with his warmth. The couple stays like this while they catch their breath, panting and covered in sweat.

Sanemi was the first to move, slowing pulling out of her letting the woman fall onto her stomach beneath him. Sanemi sits up running a hand through his sweaty hair “ fuck I went overboard “ he says

He moves her over to her back taking in her fucked out face and the flush that runs down her neck “ are you okay baby? “ he asks Y/N doesn’t trust her voice so she just nods he smiles down at his beautiful girl as he rubs his hand across her cheek “ how did I ever get go lucky? “ he asks making the woman blush

“ come on let’s cuddle before bathing “ he says before moving off the bed putting the mirror back in place and picking up Y/N and putting her back on the pillows, she normally would protest but her body wouldn’t let her put up a fight with the hashira.

He moves in beside her cuddling her to his chest “ we may have a brat in a few months “ he comments making her blink up at him before the realization hit but too tired to yell at him so she decided to ignore him making a mental note to stop by the butterfly estate in a few weeks before letting sleep take her, Sanemi smiles “ I wont let anyone hurt either of you “ he promises

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

BOO

@fanofstuff01 BOO TO YOU TO BOOO

Happy spooky month! This is bullshit! I'm in pain and have a headache, so take this au, my beautiful online friends!

Dentist!Adam au.

He's a menace. He's not even a real dentist. He just walked into a random dental office and put on a uniform.

I feel sorry for whoever his patients are because fuck numbing- he just pulls out the fucking tooth. And it's usually the wrong tooth. So you have to go back.

He's the only dentist in this area, so good luck finding someone else.

You'll either get your teeth cleaned or he'll ride you- there's no in-between.

People honestly prefer having sex with him because he's actually really fucking hot. As you can guess, people really don't like it if he's in his working heads pace.

Penitent: I- uh- I'm here for 69ing-!

Adam: Sorry, babe, but that canine's gotta come out. Maybe next time~

He fucking eats the teeth. He's a fucked up tooth fairy. He doesn't make the rules.

Then Lucifer comes in. A monster hunter and collector of bones. Monster bones.

He hears about some creepy fuck taking people's teeth out, so he goes to see what's up.

He gets an appointment, but he doesn't let Adam touch him. He instantly knows what he is because he's got the sharpest fucking teeth.

Adam is instantly infatuated with this guy. He loves monster hunters. They taste great.

And Adam thinks this guy is going to be an easy kill because holy shit, this guy is so fucking small.

Lucifer doesn't reeeally want to kill Adam because even though he's creepy, he hasn't killed anyone. So, he finds the basement where Adam lives and ties him up.

Adam: ooh~, what are you going to do to me, Mr big, bad monster hunter~?

Lucifer: I'll going to take your head once I find a fucking person you've killed

Adam: take my head, huh? Oh, baby~, I'd rather take yours~. Allll night~.

Lucifer: ...

Did the real dentist fuck off or something lmao I'm loving this though.

Lucifer: Seriously?

Adam: Yeah, I see the outline from here big boy.~ I can take it.~

Lucifer: You eat people's teeth like potato chips.

Adam: Girls gotta eat babe.~

[verynormalazulashengrottoenjoyer]

Pining Thoughts

Oh that poor, unfortunate soul. Azul just can't seem to get you out of his head, now can he? And trust, it's driving him absolutely insane.

Fluff! Gender neutral y/n. About 8kish words?

Canon story event context!!: this story builds off of and directly branches off from the visit to the Atlantica Memorial Museum at the end of Book 3, and the conversation the prefect and Azul have when Azul goes to return the photo. The lines that I use at the beginning are pulled directly from the entwst translated dialogue! Basically, he takes what you said to heart, a lil too much

~~~

“You’re amazing as it is, even without stealing anyone else’s powers.”

“What…?”

“Your incredible diligence is so rare, it left the headmage at a loss.”

“You…you think?”

“Heh…you needn’t try so hard to butter me up.”

~~~

It had been about a month since that trip down to the Atlantica Memorial Museum to return Azul’s childhood photo. About a month since that conversation had taken place between you and Azul, away from the rest of the group. You two had walked side by side, as Azul had poured his heart out to you. 

“The Sea Witch never hid her past misdeeds. She worked hard to restore her reputation, and earned the people's respect that way. I kept saying I wanted to be like her… but in the end, I couldn’t accept my own past. I kept rejecting it.” 

Azul hunches over his unfinished paperwork, remembering those vulnerable words that spilled from his mouth. He runs his hand through his already messy, light gray, wavy hair, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. 

“…How stupid.” he mutters.

How could he have said all that to you? Seriously, what in his right mind compelled him to say something so…so…weak. To you. 

But, in actuality, that part of the whole interaction consumed the least of his mind, what really had Azul in turmoil was your response. 

Amazing..? Incredible…? My diligence…? 

Those sweet compliments rang in his mind, day and night those two sentences replayed over and over in his mind, the way you looked at him with full sincerity in your eyes as you said it. Your voice contained no malice, no ulterior motives…only compassion.

That’s something he wasn’t used to.

And it was driving him insane.

You’d been so kind to him through it all. The overblot. God, he could’ve killed you. And yet here you were, still smiling at him, complimenting him, treating him like he was…normal. Like a friend.

Azul’s purple bow tie of his dorm uniform was undone, hanging over his neck loosely. The top button of his white dress shirt was unbuttoned. His black vest and coat were thrown messily over the back of his chair as he sits at his desk in the VIP Room of the Mostro Lounge, and his black fedora was thrown on the floor next to him. Azul closes his eyes as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head back and stretching his legs out under his desk. 

So what if you had given him a few compliments? It was just some words. People get compliments all the time. It didn’t mean anything. 

And still, he could not get them out of his head. He could not get you out of his head.

Why??? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?? Azul let’s out another deep sigh as he opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away. But one thought manages to slip through:

… are they thinking about me too?

“Hah…” Azul let’s out a breathy laugh and softly shakes his head, “What a stupid thought. Of course they're not. This is me overthinking… that’s all.” 

And with that final push away from his thoughts, Azul straightens up and looks back down at his work, picking up his pen as he continues his tasks. But as he writes, his hand gliding across the paper, he just can’t shake that underlying feeling…a tingling sensation in his chest…that always seems to linger when he thinks of you. 

…

“AWWWWW YEAH. I AM STARVING!!!!”

Azul jumps upright in his seat, pulled from his thoughts. He knew that voice, it was the voice of Grim, that cat-like monster, or whatever the hell he is. He seemed to have just entered the Mostro Lounge.

That damn cat’s always so obnoxiously loud, Azul thought. 

Suddenly, Azul’s heart drops, his face turning ghastly pale. 

Wait… Grim. That must mean… the prefect is here as well.

Azul drops his pen to the floor, rushing over to the little window of the VIP lounge, moving the curtain just enough to see a sliver of the general dining area of the Mostro Lounge. Sure enough, there you were with Grim, along with the other first-years you were usually around, Ace and Deuce. 

Azul pulls back from the curtain quickly, looking around for his vest and jacket. In a frenzy, he throws them on, as well as ties and straightens out his bow tie. He slips on his gloves. His heart pounds.

After somewhat composing himself, he opens the door of the VIP Lounge, making his way over to you and your group. On his way, he catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the large fish tank wall of the lounge, noticing a small piece of hair sticking up. He quickly goes to brush it down with his hand. In the reflection, he can see his hand shaking. He sharply turns his head away from the reflection. Come on Azul. Pull yourself together.

Azul finally reaches the group of first-years, clearing his throat.

“Why, if it isn’t the most famous first-years of Night Raven College! Gracing us with your presence here at my humble Mostro Lounge today, are we?” 

“Hi!” You say cheerfully to Azul, smiling and waving at him, stepping a foot closer.

Azul stops in his tracks, freezing as though someone held a remote to him and pressed the pause button. 

“H-hello!” Azul’s voice cracks as he pushes out a greeting. “Y/N, I’m glad to see you’re- um- doing well!” 

You nod slightly, “Mhm, yes. You too.” 

Azul smiles, letting out an awkward, nervous chuckle, looking at you for a…slightly uncomfortable amount of time? 

“...Um…think we could get seated? Please?”

“OH! Oh!! Yes!! Of course! Right this way, right this way” Azul jumps a bit, your request snapping him out of his trance. Finally, he moves from his place, waving frantically for you and your group to sit at a booth. “Ahem, might I get you some menus?” 

“Please, thank you.” You respond politely. Azul quickly grabs four menus, placing them on the table. “I’ll have one of my employees come over to act as your waiter immediately” Azul says, still only looking at you. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t even glanced at the others. “E-enjoy!” He exclaims. 

Oh, but he’s not done making a fool of himself yet.

Awkwardly, he continues to linger at the edge of your table. After a couple seconds, he tentatively asks “Um…I trust I’ll be seeing you in club this week, Y/N?” 

“Uhh…yeah. Probably.” You nod.  

Azul smiles and bows his head quickly, backing up a bit “E-excellent, see you then”. Suddenly, he stumbles as he walks back, nearly tripping over the ornamental rug on the floor. The stumble causes his already slipping glasses to fall to the floor. 

I have GOT to move that rug. 

“O-oh! Are you okay?” You lift up a hand as his glasses clatter on the ground.

“I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine! Worry not of me! Enjoy your meal!” Azul spits out, letting out a small, constrained laugh, reaching his hand down to pick up the glasses. He hastily places them on his nose, resulting in them resting in a crooked position on his face. Smiling awkwardly and taking one final, small bow to you, he scurries away back into the VIP Lounge.

…

Silence suffocates the table.

“…What the fuck was that?” Ace says, breaking the silence.

“He was…really nice?” Deuce, looking utterly confused. 

“More like…really weird. Why was he being so awkward?? Isn’t his whole gimmick… like… being smooth?” 

You look at Ace and Deuce, nodding in agreement, “Yeah…that was kinda odd I’m not gonna lie…” you shrug “I dunno”. It was kinda cute though, you think to yourself. Of course, you’d never say that out loud. Especially not to these three.

You definitely liked Azul. But he definitely does not like you back. All that man has feelings for are the scrolls in his desk. That’s the conclusion you had come to, anyways. 

“I DON’T care. I just want food. Come on, come on! Figure out what you want so we can order already!!!” Grim says, pushing the menu into your face.

“OKAY, okay. Damn.” You snatch the menu from Grim.

~~~

Meanwhile, Azul’s sweating bullets in the VIP Lounge.

What the HELL was I doing out there???!!??!

Azul sits in the corner of the room, his head in his hands.

I was so…weird!! What if they dislike me now?? Oh god… how humiliating… they'll avoid me now! They're going to avoid me! No no no… maybe I could trick them into signing a contract that’ll make them not avoid me? Reverse restraining order? NO. Azul! What are you THINKING?

Azul buries his face in his clammy hands, which are now ungloved. His glasses are strewn on the floor next to him as he sits in a tight ball. If only he hadn’t left his octopot in his dorm room. He’d be curled up in there right now.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Azul’s head shoots up to see none other than Jade Leech standing at the doorway.

“How many times have I told you to KNOCK, Jade.” Azul says angrily. “Didn’t I take away your key???”

“Haha…of course…my apologies. And the key is irrelevant”. Jade puts on his sharp-toothed grin, indiciating he’s really anything but sorry. “I just couldn’t help but address that spectacle you put on out there. Quite the show, really.” 

“QUIET! I-I..!” Azul tries to push out an explanation, but comes up empty handed, throwing his head back into the palms of his hands. He entangles his hands in his hair, staring down into his lap.

“Mmm…who would've thought. What used to be that chubby little octopus has a crush now! Why, they grow up too fast.”

Now this catches Azul’s attention. Not only does his head shoot up, his whole body lifts as he pulls himself to a standing pushing. “CRUSH? Nonsense! I don’t have a crush! What a…a…a  childish idea Jade!” 

“Well, it appeared that way to me.” Jade says, voice unwavering. Jade was so calm…almost condescending (average Jade demeanor).

Azul waves his hands frantically, damn near throwing a tantrum, “And WHAT in your right mind would make you think that? Huh? Because I was a bit clumsy?” Azul’s eyes are wide as his pale face turns red. From anger? Or embarrassment? Maybe both?

“Okay! I’ll admit it! I wasn’t as put together as I usually am out there. I just…was taken by surprise! But it has nothing to do with…any…romantic feelings…” Azul’s voice fades away as he turns his head away from Jade, his hands falling down to his sides. His face bright red, he looks incredibly conflicted, almost ashamed. 

“Azul. I’ve known you for quite a long time. It truly is useless attempting to hide how you feel from me. You do understand this, yes?”

Azul maintains his gaze away from Jade for a few seconds. Then, he lets out a sigh, as he tentatively turns his head back to Jade.

And oh, and does that boy look defeated. 

The best way to describe the look in Azul’s eyes is…longing. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly. The bags under his eyes are enough to tell Jade the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. 

Azul walks over to his desk, falling into the chair behind it. He puts his elbows on the table, once more placing his face in the palm of his hands as he leans forward. 

“Ok. Alright. You’re right Jade. Yes? Does that satisfy you and your nosiness? I like them, Jade. You win.” Azul winces slightly at those last couple words. Hearing them come from his own mouth was painful.

Jade finally steps away from the doorway and takes a seat in front of Azul’s desk, opposite him. 

“Huh. I’m surprised. I thought it would’ve taken more than that to get you to confess” Jade smirks as he sits upright in the chair. Looking smug, even. 

With no energy left to combat Jade’s remarks, Azul waves his hand in defeat, the other hand remaining on his face to prop his head up as he looks down at the desk.

“And why? Why go so out of your way to put me through this…” Azul’s eyebrows furrow once more “this”. Azul’s chest feels heavy, and it’s difficult to breathe. Not giving Jade a chance to respond, Azul lifts his head, and in a frustrated tone, he begins a tangent.

“Huh? Well? Now what Jade? What do you propose I do with these… feelings?” That last word has a sharpness to it, a fond disliking. “This confession serves no purpose! They obviously doesn’t like me back, Jade. You understand what that would do to my reputation? To be rejected? By the prefect of all people? Shit, they've got more influence than me at this school. They could destroy me” Though I’d never admit that to their face “I… I can’t lose her.”

I know enough about risk. I’ve made my fair share of deals, I’ve signed my fair share of contracts. To put something so…precious…on the line for these stupid emotions. It’s simply not an option.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What do you mean, Jade?” Azul breaks away from his thoughts, looking up to meet Jade’s eyes, voice dripping in frustration. .

“I wouldn’t be so sure about they're feelings, Azul. Have you asked?”

“N-no! No! I couldn’t! …Jade, are you suggesting that they may…” Azul’s eyes are wide, waiting expectantly for an answer to leave Jade’s mouth.

“A moment, Azul” Jade lifts his hands, indicating the need to slow down,  “All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t be so sure. I never said that they do. That’s something you’d need to figure out.”

At this, Azul drops his head once more, shaking his head, “Jade. I can’t.”

“...Fine, just let them get snatched up by some other man then” Jade states dismissively.

“…What?”

“What? You think they'll wait around forever for you?”

….

“It’s merely a suggestion Azul. Furthermore, I recommend you take action fast. They've got quite a few friends you know. On the good side of many. They're quite… compassionate” Azul flinches at this remark. Jade notices, and lets out a small chuckle “Though, I’m sure you know that quite well already. So, I do hope you are not taken by surprise when someone…how do they say… ‘beats you to the punch’.”

Azul’s face turns ghastly white. 

“Anyways Azul” Jade lifts himself from the chair, straightening out his coat, “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of…work… to do. I’d hate to get in the way. Good day”. He shows that sharp-toothed grin once more, looking quite pleased with himself as he turns to walk out the door.

Azul sits in silence, those previous words still ringing in his mind.

Beats me…to the punch? Another man? 

Jade’s shoes click on the floor as he approaches the door. He opens it, but stops to leave Azul with some final words of suggestion…

“Might I suggest, a gift?”

“…a gift?” Azul squeaks out. He lifts his eyes, if only slightly, to look at Jade. His entire body feels heavy, as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. Because he really hadn’t. 

Jade nods, “Precisely. A gift. A physical manifestation of your…’appreciation’”.

Azul blankly stares at Jade.

“Again, it’s merely a suggestion. Do what you will with it.” 

With that, Jade closes the door, and with a click, it shuts.

And so, Azul is alone once more, left with his thoughts. 

A gift huh… Azul pulls out his phone to glance at the time. A gift…  I might just have enough time…yes…perhaps this…this could work…?

~~~ 

The setting sun shines through the windows onto the deck of cards in front of you. You and Idia, the fiery-haired third year, sit across from each other as you idly chat after school in the typical classroom of the weekly Board Game Club meeting. The room buzzes with chatter as other students converse among themselves in their respective groups. You always feel at ease in the comfortable and laid back environment of the club. But… it’s missing something today.

“Honestly dude…One Piece is just too long. I do NOT have time to watch all that.”

“It’s not even that long, what do you mean??”

“Girl isn’t it like over a thousand episodes??”

“Woah” Idia puts up his hand “First of all, I am NOT a girl. I’d consider myself more of a, heh, sigma male.”

“...No fucking way you just said that shit seriously bro”. 

“You’re just mad you’re not a sigma male”.

“I don't want to be though???”

“Dude, just shut up and listen, One Piece is freakin’ awesome. Literally, it’s gotta be in my Top 3! I guess the pacing could use some work, but when you look at it from an overall picture…”

Idia’s voice seems to fade away as you glance at your phone. It’s ten minutes past the start of today’s club meeting. 

I wonder where Azul is…he’s usually here by now. You shake your head slightly, brushing the fleeting thought from your mind. It shouldn’t matter to me anyways. He probably wouldn’t even notice if I wasn’t here. You remember the short interaction you had earlier that day at the Mostro Lounge. It almost seemed like…he wanted to get away from us…from me?

And still, you can’t shake that heavy feeling in your heart knowing you’d have to wait another week. What a childish feeling, to be upset over not not getting to spend a couple hours at your college club with a boy. But you couldn’t help it. You’d have to wait another week to sit and converse with the gray-haired housewarden. The way his blue eyes lock with your own as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, studying your face as his pink lips curl into a subtle smile as you tell him about your day. The way his glasses slowly slip down the bridge of his nose as he lets out a small, soft laugh, and nods, acknowledging the words and emotions that spill from your mouth, the way-

“Dude, are you good?” 

“...Huh?”

Idia still sits across from the table, staring at you, genuinely confused “Why’re you shaking your head? Are you really that against watching One Piece? 

You stare at Idia for a moment, before you let out a chuckle and shake your head once more, looking down at the stack of cards, “No, no. Sorry Idia. Um, I just got distracted for a sec, I was thinking about something off topic”. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back as you reach for the cards. 

“I’ll probably watch it one day man. Just not anytime soon”.

Just before your hands hit the cards, the door to the classroom swings open. At the door is none other than the boy that you had just managed to push out of your mind, Azul Ashengrotto.

Damn. Were his ears ringing or something?

Azul is clearly disheveled. The usually put together man has hair sticking up in some places, and hair sticking to his forehead due to sweat in other places. The coat to his school uniform is nowhere to be seen, only wearing the signature white shirt, black pants, and black and white striped tie of the Night Raven College Uniform. He holds his light purple vest in his hands, indicating his status as an Octavinelle dorm member. His glasses are crooked on his nose. 

As soon as he bursts through the door, his eyes land on you. The eye contact you share is brief, as he immediately pulls his gaze away, attempting to brush his hair down and straighten out his clothes. 

“Hey man. Took ya long enough” Idia remarks. 

You clear your throat as you shoot Azul a smile. “Mhm. We saved you a seat”. You pat the seat next to you. 

“O-oh!” Azul looks at your hand as it pats the area next to you. “That’s…quite considerate. Thank you prefect”. Azul places his vest behind the chair as he takes his seat next to you, continuing to avoid eye contact.

How the HELL am I going to do this…? God, I can’t even look at them.

You look at Azul one final time before you turn your attention back to Idia. “Alright, I’ll deal”. 

..

After about half an hour of playing a variety of card games, you turn to Azul once more. He has yet to speak a word. “Azul? You wanna play?”

“No!” he exclaims immediately, “Ahem…” he clears his throat, regaining his composure, “N-no thank you. I’ve chosen to observe today. Yes. To observe. I’d like to study your techniques in order to improve mine. Success doesn’t happen on its own, you know.”

Nice save Azul, he thinks to himself. Truth is, he’s too scared to play in fear of you seeing how much his hands are shaking due to his nerves. 

I don’t think I’d even be able to hold a card right now.

“...Chat is this real?” Idia asks.

“Yo chat is this real?” You add in.

“...what?” Azul asks blankly. 

What the FUCK does “chat is this real?” mean? 

“He fr doesn’t wanna play? Azul? The most competitive person in the club? The most competitive person in ALL OF NRC, basically?” Idia questions, sounding genuinely surprised. 

Azul stutters in his response, “I’m-I’m studying your techniques. So that I may assure victory the next time we play! Do not judge my methods of success Shroud!”

“...Whatever floats your boat dude” Idia responds in a bored tone, letting the topic go. 

You take this chance to jump into the conversation, as you turn your body to face Azul, “It’s okay, you and I can play next time. You could put your studied techniques to use then” you smile sweetly at him as you add in that last bit. 

Azul nods, his face going red as he feels it burning up, “Yes…I’d very much like that”.

You and Azul look at each other, if not only for 1 or 2 seconds, but somehow, it feels as though you two are the only ones in the room. Saying nothing, your smiles remain on your faces, as you look into each other’s eyes. 

Huh, his eyes really are pretty. They kinda look like…the ocean? Hah…quite fitting, I guess. 

…

“Normie shit” 

“Huh?” You break eye contact as you turn to look at Idia, pulled from your trance. 

Idia rolls his eyes, and in an annoyed tone, states, “Ugh. Nothing. Can you just deal the cards already? You’ve been holdin’ em’, like, basically forever now”.

“Oh… yeah. Sure. Sorry.” 

And with that, you set up another game. You two continue on with your card games, while you talk about fnaf or some shit idk this part isn’t really important to the story so just imagine you’re like arguing about fnaf lore, that’s something ya'll would prob do. Anyways, while you’re talking about nonsensical stuff…

Azul’s heart pounds through it all, his throat feeling dry. He watches the minutes go by on the clock, each click of the minute hand making his heart lurch. Just gotta ask them… You’ve got this.

I’ve got this?

~~~

The clock hits 8:00pm, and people begin to shuffle out of the classroom, heading back to their dorms for the night. 

You say your goodbyes to Idia. He says he’s gotta make it in time for the Final Fantasy dungeon before it closes or something, to be honest, you don’t know half of the stuff he talks to you about (smile and nod smile and nod), so Idia grabs his stuff and quickly heads back to his dorm.

Azul lingers as the rest of the students filter out, leaving just you and him alone in the room. Yeah, you two are alone. Perfect…right? 

“You heading back to your dorm, Azul?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He nods. “…yes.”

You nod, grabbing your bag and your phone, “Well then…I’ll see you soon? Next week probably, right? For club? 

“Um..yes. Of course” Azul shuffles in place. His responses make it sound as though he is also prepared to leave, but his actions seem to say otherwise. 

Okayyyy…?

“Um. Well then…!” You leave him with one final smile before you head towards the door, your light footsteps echoing throughout the silent room. 

Azul watches your back as you move towards the door. No. You were about to leave. He can’t waste this chance. It’s now or never. He can’t let you slip through his grasp. With conviction, Azul quickly takes a few steps forward, reaching out his hand.

“W-wait!” His fingers wrap around your upper arm. His hands are so…cold. Are they always like this? 

You jump a bit at the feeling, immediately stopping in your tracks as you turn slightly to look at him, a look of surprise on your face. 

“Why’d you…?” Your heart stops not only at his freezing touch, but at the look in his eyes. His eyes are wide and expectant, as though he’s pleading with you not to go. 

“Y/N…could you…meet me at the VIP Room of the Mostro Lounge? Around…10? I… I um…I have something to give you….if that's alright…”

“Something to give me?” You now turn to face him completely, your heart pounding. You can practically hear the beat of it in your ears. Can he hear it too?  “What are you gonna give me?” He has yet to let go of your arm. 

“You’ll see when I give it to you. It’s…it’s nothing much! It’s only due payment. For…for helping with my…overblot.” Azul looks away, shame falling over his face as he remembers that incident.  “I can’t have me being in debt to you, you know” His eyes fall back onto you, and he notices that he’s still gripping your arm. 

“O-oh!” He pulls his arm back quickly as it shrinks into his chest. “Sorry!” He clears his throat “… Um… so… will I be seeing you tonight?” That last phrase drips in desperation.

You feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach. 

“Will I be seeing you tonight…?” That sounded oddly…no. No. Of course not. You already knew he didn’t think about you that way. Don’t get ahead of yourself Y/N. 

You nod. “Sure…okay. Yeah...I’m gonna head back to my dorm to change, then I'll go over to the Lounge…is that okay?” 

“Yes!!!” Azul says, a little too enthusiastically. Once more, he clears his throat. Man, how many times does a man need to clear his throat? “I mean- certainly. I’ll see you then”. Azul nods, before he turns on his heel and basically runs out the door.

…

Did that just happen? You stand in the exact same place Azul left you in. You lift your hand slowly to touch the place on your arm that Azul had wrapped his fingers around. You could still feel the chill that ran up your arm from his cold touch. Did he just…invite me to the dorm tonight? You touch your face, you feel light headed, your skin feels hot, your heart pounds.

Oh shit. 

~~~

Now in casual clothes, you knock on the door of the VIP Lounge. Your hand shakes as you knock one, two, three times. Almost immediately after the third knock, the door swings open.

“Y/N!” 

You almost fall back in surprise. “Oh my God!”, you stumble back a bit, as Azul suddenly stands inches away from your face. 

“S-sorry!” Azul puts his hand up, about to grab you to stop you from falling, but stops just centimeters away from your skin. “Uh…” he puts his hand down quickly. “Sorry, I was just…close to the door. Ahem.” Azul steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the room. “Come in…please.”

That “please”... why did it sound a little like…he was begging? No. No no no. It was just your imagination. What is up with you and your imagination today?

As you walk into the room, Azul closes the door behind you. Studying his back, you take note of his attire. He remains in his black slacks and white button up dress shirt only, the top two buttons undone, revealing just a bit of his collarbone. He looks quite casual now. Definitely a change from his normal presentation. He really does have a nice figure. You think to yourself. Of course he does, he’s worked for it. Like everything else he has.

Azul quickly makes his way over to the other side of his desk after closing the door, walking straight past you, and he begins to rummage around in his drawer hastily. He has yet to say a word to you. Just as you’re about to say something, he presents you with something. Suddenly, he has pulled out…a bubble?

No. Not just a bubble. You take a step forward to get a closer look, “Azul, what is…” your eyes widen as you take a better look at the round item Azul has presented to you in the palms of his hands. 

It was a clear, crystalized water bubble, and at the center of it lay the most beautiful conch shell you’d ever seen. This shell, glimmering in the crystallized water of the bubble, reflected the soft light of the VIP Lounge, making it seem as though it were glowing. Held in place by the crystallization of the water, the shell was on display perfectly in the center, as though it were on a pedestal. But, even more notable, was the color of this shell: It was an azure-blue, the same color as…something that seemed very, very familiar. 

“This…is for you.”

“What?”

“It’s for you.”

“For…me?”

Azul’s hands shake as they begin to fall down towards the desk, taking the crystalized shell along with them. Rapidly, coming out in a string of words, Azul begins to speak, “If-if you don’t like it, you are under no obligation to accept it prefect! I will find some other way to repay you! What would you prefer? If you could provide me a list, I’d be more than happy to-”

“Azul. It’s…it’s, really, really pretty.”

His voice halts, and his face twitches. His eyes flicker up to meet yours,“…it is?”

Carefully, you pick up the bubble from his hands. As your hands slip under the bubble, you’re once again faced with the freezing sensation of Azul’s hands, as the back of your hands slide against the palms of his. Gently, you lift the bubble to your face, the light from the room causing the color of the conch in the water to reflect onto your face and eyes, creating a soft, blue tone. 

Azul admires you as you study the conch. Oh, is he absolutely mesmerized by you being…well…mesmerized. 

“H-how…? How did you get this?”

“...I made it.”

“You WHAT?” You say in disbelief, your eyes widening.

The surprise in your voice boosts Azul’s ego a bit, and he straightens up at this. “Hehe… quite. I made it. It’s actually a shell from the Atlantica Memorial Museum. I thought that it would be…appropriate…for the occasion…so I took a short trip down in the ocean for it. I thought that…it might have a little more worth if it was actually connected to a…shared experience of ours…” his voice trails off as the last little bit falls from his lips.

You look at him, genuinely confused. With your eyebrows furrowed, a string of questions leaves your mouth, “Huh? What do you mean? Occasion? Shared experience?” 

“Well…” Azul takes a deep breath in, and a shaky breath out. “Those words… that you said to me…you told me I was amazing… that I had incredible diligence…during our walk outside the museum. Such kind words, for someone like me?” Azul's gaze falls to the ground, as his face begins to heat up once more in embarrassment. He awaits a response from you. 

…

“Did I?”

Azul's jaw nearly drops in disbelief and his head shoots up to meet your eyes. “Y-you mean to say…you don’t remember?????”

“Honestly…no?”

At this, Azul nearly crumbles from the pressure and humiliation, “O-oh… I’m… um…apologies prefect…I just assumed you would remember. Oh dear, forget what I said, please-”

“No! …I mean. Whatever I said, I know I meant it. I might not remember saying it, but I’d never lie to you Azul. Your diligence is incredible. I see the way you work. You really are amazing. I admire you. Really.”

You set the conch down on his desk with a clink, and you run a finger over it, avoiding eye contact with Azul, gazing down at the bubble. 

“I’m really, really happy you gave this to me Azul.” You look up at him, directly in the eyes. He’s frozen in place, taking in each and every one of your words.You stay silent for a couple seconds, before the next words fill the room’s stifling silence, “Did you notice… that the conch is the same color as your eyes?” You look back down at the bubble on the table, tenderly pulling it into the palms of your hands. You hold it up to Azul’s eye level. “Yes. Exactly the same” A small smile spreads across your lips. “Thank you, Azul”.

They…they like it?

Azul’s heart pounds. He feels as though he might just pass out. The knot in his chest feels so tight, he can’t breathe. God, he’s practically bursting at the seams. He can’t do it anymore. He can’t hold back. He needs to tell you. He needs to do this. Now. Right now.

Reaching his hands out, slowly, almost hesitantly, he softly grabs your wrists, one wrist in each hand. He lets go of one, grabbing the conch and gently setting it down on the table once more.

“Y/N.”

Your heart lurches as he says your name. Oh how you love the way he says your name.

You don’t say anything in response. You just stare at him. Your throat feels dry and itchy.

“I….”

Azul’s voice trails off…he contemplates. 

Taking a deep breath in, Azul asks you a simple, but crucial question, “I need to be honest with you. Can…can I be honest with you? Please…?” Azul lets a hint of pleading, a hint of yearning, roll off of his tongue. 

You can only nod in response. It’s a small, slow nod. You don’t break eye contact. Not once.

His voice chokes, “I…” and he softly shakes his head, pulling his hands away from your wrists as he places one hand to his chest, and the other falls limply to his side. He quietly gulps, parting his lips slightly to take a small breath before he speaks,

“I…I can’t stop ... .I can't stop thinking…about…” his fingers tightly grip his button-up shirt.

You look at him, his conflicted state plastered on his face, reflected in his eyes, as though he’s fighting some sort of inner battle.

“About you.”

You feel as though all the blood drains from your face. Lightheadedness hits you like a truck.

His hands visibly shake as they return to softly grip your wrists. Slowly, he runs his hands up and over the palms of your hands, tentatively intertwining his fingers with yours. His hands feel clammy and cold, and that familiar chill crashes over you, climbing into the depths of your nerves, as his hands tremble in your own. He holds on lightly, as though he’s scared you’re going to dissipate into the air, like you’re going to crumble with any pressure applied.  

“I…feel…so…” his voice trails off…

…

“Confused.” His voice cracks with the last syllable.

And with that, his next words come out like crashing waves.

“I can’t concentrate, Y/N. My paperwork, my meetings, my studies, none of it. I simply can't.  Every single day…I feel like… like…” He squeezes your hands ever so slightly, “…like I’m going insane…All I can think about is you. I’m losing sleep Y/N. I can’t sleep.”  That last word contains a hint of pining, a whine, like a dog pleading with its owner.

“Y/N…” Azul releases your intertwined hands, now wrapping both of your hands in his own, cupping them into his and pulling them close to his chest.

“Tell me…what do I do?” His voice cracks, the last part of the sentence essentially a whimper. He’s searching hopelessly for an answer. And he wants you to give it to him.

You stand there, absolutely dumbfounded. You part your mouth, but no words come out. 

Worry not, Azul’s not finished. He continues on.

I’ve made a fool of myself already. My reputation. Our relationship. I’ve risked it all. I’m not one to gamble…but I have nothing left to lose now. 

“I’ve never….felt this way before. Y/N…would you… would you be willing…to take a chance with me?” 

His hands tremble over yours as your eyes widen at this request.

“You know…I hate to ask for things. But…I’m willing to swallow my pride today. For this. For you. I’d like to propose a…a deal…”

He pauses, studying your eyes, hoping maybe, just maybe, he’d find an answer in them.

“Would you… give me your heart?…You…you wouldn’t leave this deal empty handed..! A mutual exchange…even and fair…you give me your heart…and I’ll give you mine.”

Still, you are unable to say anything. You feel dizzy, you can’t think straight. Your words are caught in your throat. Are you about to fall over? Is this real? You’re not dreaming right? 

Azul takes a deep breath in, and boldly takes one more step: he pulls a single hand of yours to his face, both of his hands holding your single one in place on his left cheek. He holds on, softly, but unyielding, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear into thin air. The same as his hands, his face is freezing cold.

 It must be his whole body that feels this way, you think to yourself.

“Y/N…how do you feel about me? Please…tell me…I can’t continue feeling this way. I feel as though I’m going to explode Y/N. My chest…it feels so heavy all the time. I can’t take it anymore. I’m at my wits’ end.”

…

“So tell me… what do you think of this deal…?”

You stare at him, and he stares at you. The look in his eyes, so desperate. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable before. The overblot looks like nothing in comparison to the look he has on his face right now. He looks as though he’s risking it all. That’s because, for him, he really is. 

It’s your turn now. Softly, you run your hand slightly down over his face, slipping away from the grasp of his hands. You run your thumb softly over his beauty mark under his lower left lip, and your pointer finger follows its lead. It’s a gentle touch. The fingers run over it, bordering his lower lip, tracing even, ever so briefly, before you put your hand down to your side. 

“….Okay.”

Azul stares blankly at you.

“…Okay?”

“I accept Azul. I accept your deal. Okay.” You nod subtly, your face feeling hot as you release these words from your throat. Your acceptance of his words. Acceptance of his feelings.

Azul lets out a sharp, shaky breath, as though he’d been holding it for years now. Then, he lets out a chuckle, breaking out into a cheesy smile, laughing, almost like a child.

He places his palm to his forehead in relief, sounding absolutely shocked, “R-really? You do???” 

You let out a small laugh, seeing the way his tense demeanor fades away, and you see Azul for what he really, truly is in this moment: A guy that’s absolutely and utterly devoted…to you. “Yes. I accept your deal Azul. I feel the same way.”

Azul lets out an excited “Ha!!” As he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him. He doesn’t break eye contact, despite only being a few inches away from your face now, as he asks,

“You…you’re not joking right? You’re not toying with me??? You really mean it??”

You nod, a bit more vigorously this time, hoping it’ll really communicate your commitment. Laughing, even more, you respond, “Yes, yes, oh my god yes. Dude…I’ve never seen you this excited before! This is actually kind of insane bro…” 

At this point, Azul couldn’t give two shits about your remark. All he cares about is your reciprocated feelings. It’s mutual. Your feelings are mutual. 

I could die right now.

Holding you close, having pulled you in by one arm after your acceptance, he cups your face in his hands, only for a brief moment, and runs his fingers down your cheeks. “Th-this is wonderful! Splendid even!” He says excitedly. Breaking away from your face, he exclaims “Okay!”. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you roughly over to the other side of his desk, and begins rummaging around in the drawer. 

You peek over his shoulder, trying to see what he’s looking so maniacally for. 

Then he reveals it.

He pulls out a golden scroll, hastily splaying it out onto the table. He forcefully pushes a pen into your hand. 

“J-just sign here!!” He grasps your hand with the pen, and guides it over to the characteristic “x” and line, indicating the need for a signature.

Awww hell nah bruh.

You immediately pull your hand away, nuzzling it into the safety of your chest. “Azul! What the fuck!”

“W-what???!” Azul asks, genuinely surprised and concerned. Oh… does he look like a puppy that was just scolded for the first time.

“Dude!! N-No! I thought the deal and contract thing was…like…a metaphor!!!”

“W-why would it be a metaphor??” Azul cries out. “This, this is a…” Azul thinks back to his conversation with Jade, his words flashing in his mind, “A physical manifestation of my appreciation!” 

Thanks for that Jade..

You look at him, mouth wide open in shock. “Because it’s fucking insane to have the person you confess to sign a contract ensuring they like you back???”

“W-well..! I need to be sure!”

“…” You let out a scoff of disbelief, crossing your arms over your chest as you shake your head.

But then, your face softens, and you let out a chuckle

“...Ha…alright. You know what? Fine.”

You put your hand down to the “x” on the paper, the pen hovering over the line, “but on one condition”, you add in.

Azul freezes. “W-what?”

They want to make a bargain? With me? Who do they think they are? No one proposes contracts to Azul Ashengrotto. I do the proposing.

Huh. Guess some things really do never change. 

“I eat at the Mostro Lounge. For free.”

Azul’s face, previously draped in shock, melts into a soft, almost mocking smile.

“Well…as my partner…wouldn’t that be a given? What an ignorant question.”

“...Ignorant question?” You raise an eyebrow. “Hm. Somehow, the scroll looks…unappealing suddenly. Wouldn’t you agree?” You look up at him, smirking as you pull your hand away from the paper. 

“SMART! SMART QUESTION. SMART QUESTION. INCREDIBLY INTELLIGENT, YOU ARE MY DEAR!”

Azul puts his hands up, waving them frantically towards the paper, indicating for you to sign. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! S-sign the scroll! Please!”

You laugh at Azul, and finally, your pen glides across the paper, and you effortlessly lift your hand from the sheet as the scroll dissipates into the air, leaving gold specks of light in its wake. 

I cannot believe I just signed that fucking scroll. Did I just sell my soul? 

Azul watches the light as it fades, gold specks reflected in his glasses. He turns to look at you, smiling as though he’d just scored the business deal of a lifetime. Because to him, he had. 

“This…this is wonderful! Haha!” He breaks out into giddy laughter, but… is cut off?

He feels…something warm…? On his face…?

Oh. 

Ohhh.

You had leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 

Azul stands there. In utter shock. His body tense, he feels as though the wind could knock him over if it felt so inclined. 

You back up. One step. two steps. You smile at him as you grab his hand and wrap it around the pen. 

“Where’d your voice go? Sea witch got your voice?” You say in a teasing tone.

“Y….you…” 

You giggle, “You know. Your hands are incredibly cold. So is your face. They say your lips are most sensitive to temperature. I guess I just wanted to see if that was true. I can now confirm that to, in fact, be the truth!”

You let out a quick laugh, smiling at him as you watch him basically self-destruct before your eyes. You release his hand which now holds the pen, and you turn to that glass bubble on the table that kickstarted this night between you too.

“Thank you again, Azul!” You say, in almost a playful manner, knowing the drastic change in the mood is going to give him emotional whiplash. Not to worry, that was the point. “For the wonderful gift, both uh…physical and verbal?” You say, furrowing your eyebrows and lifting the conch in your hand “I dunno….Anyways!”

Azul remains standing in place, watching you. The rest of his body still frozen, he breaks into an awkward smile, nodding slightly, not once taking his eyes off of you.

You head for the door, shell in hand, pulling the knob and opening it. Before you exit, you add in. “I’ll see you tomorrow then? I’ll head back over here after class. That sound okay to you?”

One last time, Azul nods, this time vigorously, his frozen body now coming back to life as he takes a step towards your figure, his hand slightly extended out to you, as though he doesn’t want you to go, “Y-yes! Yes! That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow…Y/N.” 

And with that, you leave him with a final smile before you walk out of the room, and you shut the door behind you.

Click

And once again, Azul is left to his own devices. 

The tension and stress hitting him like a slap in the face, Azul’s legs give out from underneath him. He collapses to the ground in a heap. How he managed to not do that way earlier, he doesn’t know. He opens his hand and looks down to reveal the pen. The very pen you’d used to sign off your love. To him. 

“I suppose I could give Jade…a bonus…or something. For the help.” Azul mutters to himself, not caring about his monetary loss one bit. 

The pen feels warm in his cold hands, remnants of you lying in his palm.

Your heart for mine. Not a bad trade. 

…

Perhaps I should begin drafting up a marriage contract? 

~~~

THE END 😝😝

I love you Azul Ashengrotto I’ve been hyperfixated on you for three yearsl they could never make me hate you bbg gets on all fours and starts meowing rubs my face against your leg like an overly affectionate cat searching for your attention id do anything for you azul.

fyi this fic is basically a self-insert of myself and azul i literally just pulled a find and replace all at the end to generalize it i love azul sm i love him.