#approval is the root of what I need

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: "Is it that fun?" Teruhashi wants to project into his mind. "Not being the center of attention?" It’s only then that she realizes while watching Saiki smile into his cup – the words “WINNER! You win one free coffee jelly!” printed across the bottom – there’s something to be found in the silence. OR: Across every iteration of their universe, Teruhashi Kokomi and Saiki Kusuo have a lot to learn from each other. Especially when she's a psychic fixated on attention and he's a perfect, pretty boy fixated on normalcy.

Author: galacticbestbuds

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[lucysarah-c]

Part 3 of Levi's horrible flirting skills.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

‘It can’t be that hard, it can’t be that hard... just go and talk, talk confidently and all cocky like you do to MPs. Just-!’ 

“Hello, Captain.” She bent to her side as she looked into his eyes, her hair falling flawlessly following the tilt of her head. 

Levi sat down in the hallway, stood still for a second as suddenly her face appeared in his view. “Hello.” 

‘No. That’s not it, ask her back-’ 

“Is Erwin busy?” She smiled softly. 

“In a meeting with the higher ranks,” Levi quickly answered as if it were an exam question, he had memorized. He had been waiting outside for the blond to be done, easily ten minutes already. 

A subtle hum of approval, she straightened up and said, “Oh well, I won’t bother you any further. Have a nice day.” 

Levi’s lips parted but before he could come up with a possible idea, she had already made it halfway through the corridor and was now talking to another friend. Lips pressed together, he looked at the pattern of the marble floors, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time. 

“... fuck me,” 

-- 

“A friend is asking you for a favor, how mean can you be?” 

“My FRIEND has guts enough to insult the commander of the Military Police to his face who is ALSO my friend. He needs to use the same guts to ask her out on his own,” Erwin argued back as they were taking a break from a meeting in his office. “I already told him; I’m not going to get involved. Y/N is like a little sister; I’ve known her since she had baby fat on her cheeks -” 

“It’s not like I’m planning on hurting her!” Levi defended himself as if Erwin were accusing him of the worst. 

“No, but I know what kind of stuff you’re into and I prefer not to encourage it... especially with Y/N.” Erwin shook his head slightly as if the mental image was too much to bear, “If she’s into that kind of stuff, fine, but I prefer not to be the one who encourages it for the sake of my mental peace.” 

“You turned out to be so prudish,” Hange said between chuckles, “You’re such a baaaad friend.” 

Erwin dedicated a general unhappy grimace and said, “He is already Humanity’s strongest soldier. If that title doesn’t land him a girl, then it’s not my fault he can’t get her.” 

“It’s different, in the underground I didn’t have to talk... usually they were the ones who did the talking,” Levi said, slightly defeated. Life was easier when the other person was the one winning his attention. 

“Aww, shorty. If it makes you feel better, I’m rooting for you!” Hange said, throwing one arm over the Captain’s shoulder and pushing him closer. 

Frowning deeply, Levi clicked his tongue. “You’re rooting for me, or you are enjoying seeing me fail?” 

The brunette balanced with both of their hands, silently implying “A little bit of this, a little bit of that.” 

-- 

Package playing on his fingers, they were usually given snacks during meetings. The red cover shined under the light. Levi looked to his right side where she was waiting. The rebellious baby hairs on the side of her ears glittered under the light as the paper of the chocolate did in Levi’s hands. 

Without saying a word, Levi’s right hand moved slightly in her direction and made the offer. His gray eyes looked deeply into her side profile until she noticed the attention. First, she looked at him and then down at his gift. 

Subtle smile, “Thank you, but I’m allergic to nuts,” she quickly said before returning to look in the other direction as the chocolate returned to be held by both of his hands. 

‘... I can’t be this fucking unfortunate.’ 

The reddish tint spread over her lips, gliding. Making it even by pressing her lips together and making little popping sounds, then her fingers took off the excess and tapped it on her cheeks. While she admired her reflection in the tiny mirror, Levi had his attention fixed on her shiny lips. 

Subtle color made them look plumper or blushed and the shine only added to it. Levi had to remind himself to breathe and that he was in public because his mind began to delve into forbidden territory. Imagine her lips parted, looking at him, red lips matching her cheeks after he pried her mouth open, sucking her breath. What it would feel like to grip her neck and hold the bottom of her jaw to push her closer only to then tug the back of her hair. 

“You think it looks too much?” she asked him. Levi felt as if he had been caught red-handed. 

“Ehm-” he stuttered slightly as the head over his shoulder reclaimed the power of rationality, “No?” 

She looked breathtaking, the white of the uniform mixing perfectly with the subtle crimson. Levi cursed under his breath as she simply did a side smile, almost forced, then went back to look at her reflection doubtfully. 

“Sometimes I feel I should add something to look less plain,” she commented. 

‘Say something, motherfucker!’ Levi’s mind called out the one supposedly in charge of social interaction. 

“Some people are into that.” 

‘I’m into that, I will gladly show you how much I’m into it. It would be my pleasure.’ 

A sarcastic scoff left her nose and a sort of defeated grimace, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

‘No no, wait. I meant it nicely, why the hell are you looking so sad?’ 

“There’re a lot of people with bad taste,” she added half as a joke and half as a bittersweet reality. 

“SoMe PEoplE ArE inTo ThAt,” Levi made fun of his own voice as his forehead slapped against the cold harsh surface of his desk, “WHO the HELL says that?” 

If pain was the best discipline, then perhaps hitting his own head against the table would knock some sense into him, “I could have said, ‘You look good. That color suits you.’ NO! I had to say the most shitty, stupid shit that humankind had ever fucking seen.” 

“Either my mother dropped me as a baby because she was tired or Kenny’s kick actually damaged my brain because otherwise there’s no explanation,” Levi muttered as his forehead remained against his desk, dark locks spreading around against the surface. 

A subtle knock on the door made him raise his face slightly and say, “Name and business.” 

Eld walked in after he was allowed inside. Delivering more work but the presence of the ashy blond snapped some sense into Levi. 

‘I’ve been asking two idiots who don’t get laid even in their wildest dreams. That’s the issue.’ 

“Eld, your fiancée. How is she doing?” Levi asked out of nowhere, surprising his subordinate. 

The scout raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, but quickly concluded that it was because he had recently mentioned that they were looking for a kid. “She’s doing good! We went to her parents’ house the other day, sir.” 

Levi didn’t know how to bring up the conversation on his own, so luckily Eld did it for him. “We had a blast because we passed by a house with a nice garden, and I told her that the first time I went to ask her out at her father’s shop, I was just a cadet and didn’t have any money. I cut some flowers from that house for her, and the old woman there almost hit me with her broom.” 

‘Flowers, of course. How could I be that stupid?’ was all that Levi paid attention to. ‘What do women like? Cute shit. Like... flowers and... cats. Right?’ 

‘But I can’t just pop up with a bunch of fucking flowers; she’s going to think I’m a creep.’ 

Levi groaned uneasily as one step forward felt like two steps back. Did he have to talk himself into it for weeks? Yes. Was he confident about his decision? No. Did he feel like an idiot picking up a couple of flowers that only grew outside the walls during an expedition? Yes, but who the hell would dare to make fun of humanity’s strongest soldier? 

Not many of those he picked up made it back to the walls in one piece, so it felt pathetically sad how only one tiny one survived for him to press dry between a couple of heavy books. 

“I can’t give her this shit... dried-up grass has more presence than this,” Levi muttered, feeling the exhaustion of his body after an expedition, feeling his hopes drain and mix with the sadness of the lost members. 

So, the single purplish flower remained in his notebook pocket, forgotten but also a permanent reminder each time he opened it. 

“That’s so pretty,” her voice echoed as a distant dream that made Levi look up. He was visiting some of his injured soldiers, sitting next to them as he kept them company. His eyes followed where she was looking, and it was his open notebook with the flower serving as a bookmark. 

She seemed to be on duty as she moved around the patients to check on their condition. “You should go and rest, Captain. You seem too tired,” she casually said. 

But Levi remained with his eyes on the flower, then he looked at her, who had heavy dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. He could feel the blood rushing, but he hoped his stoic face would hide it. With all the courage he managed to gather, “Here, have it,” he said. 

Y/N looked back at him, confused. “No no, it’s yours, Captain.” 

“Tch,” Levi clicked his tongue, “No, have it.” 

The surprise on her face slowly but surely changed into a subtle smile as her cheeks tinted red. “Oh my... why, thank you,” she said, taking it delicately and admiring it. 

Levi nodded a bit. ‘Do not say anything, you’ll fuck it up,’ he thought, scratching the back of his undercut. 

“Thank you, it will keep me company during study nights.” 

‘Holy shit... she’s fucking gorgeous,’ Levi felt his breath being taken away as she smiled tenderly at him. He felt as if the gates of heaven had opened in front of him and the light from the window behind her was the choir of angels. 

But quickly he realized he was in the middle of a hospital with a rainy day outside. “It will keep me company with my babies.” 

“Babies?” Levi felt as if he had been thrown a bucket of cold water, and before he noticed, he had said that out loud. 

“Oh yes! My babies!” she assured enthusiastically. “I’ve got one boy and two girls. They are the apple of my eyes, a blessing.” 

‘Three? I mean... I like kids, but three already. If I want to have kids with her too, there would be too fucking many. My salary isn’t that good,’ Levi’s mind began to panic as if the idea of them having a family was a near future. ‘No no, let’s not be assholes. She’s being a good mother; let’s stand up as a man and-’ 

“Sometimes when I’m studying, I can only hear the clock and their purring-” 

Levi’s mind did a dead stop, raising an eyebrow as a silent question. 

“Purring? You know, cats purr.” 

He felt as if his soul came back to his body. “Ah, you mean cats.” 

“Well, yes! What did you think they were?” she said between chuckles, joking around. 

“Kids?” he said without giving it much thought. An uncomfortable silence arose quickly as she looked back at him, confused, then blushed heavily. 

“Captain!” she called him out as if the idea were ridiculous. “Please, don’t make me laugh. I’ve no prospect of it whatsoever. I’m happy with my cats.” 

-- 

“The only shit I heard from all that was, ‘I’m single and there’s no other asshole in the picture,’” Levi said, sitting down in his desk chair, softly spinning to the sides. Resting on the chenille red back of the chair, arms folded, he looked at the ceiling with a subtle smirk on his face. He was in the same delusional happy trance he had been in the night he met her. 

“Yeah,” Hange replied, but quickly added, “But it could also mean she’s happily single and she’s not interested in a relationship.” 

Levi stopped moving his chair and turned his attention to the brunette. “If you’re looking forward to me feeding you to a titan in the next expedition, just say it, but don’t ruin my day.”

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[aquaglow]

My ultimate advices for 2025 if you want to let go of your current self and blossom into a new, unrecognizable, dreamy version of You 💫

Stop bargaining with what is non-negotiable. What is non-negotiable? The basic essentials: nutrition, sleep, fitness, tranquility, education. Stop trying to find shortcuts to the essentials: they require constant work and there's no way around it.

Get some tips from social media, sure, but get your knowledge and information from actual books and lectures. At some point you're going to have to stop trying to speedrun your knowledge from superficial sources and 30-sec summaries.

Stop with the negative self-talk. Stop pretending like self-deprecation is a "coping mechanism": it literally rots your soul from the inside out and you know it does.

Follow your intuition whenever you can. Intuition is a skill you need to develop, like muscle-memory. It is a simple tool the Universe has to transmit to us what we can't see otherwise, but the message can't get through if the channels are closed. Harness your connection to Nature and to your inner self in order to open them.

Stop seeking approval and validation in others. I bet this sounds cliché to you, doesn't it? Well, then it's time to start applying it, don't you think? While you bend over backwards to please your parents or be accepted by half-friends, they are walking around with deeply rooted insecurities and broken dreams, which they project onto you, and that's the energy you're trying to submiss to. You're the only person you should try to impress.

Quit equating your wellbeing with purchases. You can probably understand why buying new shoes isn't going to fix you, right? Then take this same understanding and apply it to things like expensive cellulitis creams with effects you don't really understand, the latest Tiktok trend on facial sculpting, colourful supplements with no scientific proof of efficiency, etc.

Let yourself be bored, quiet and private more often. Learn to do nothing, say nothing and show nothing, and blossom still, because your Inner Self will be enriched by these, if you really open up to it.

Good luck, little stars. 💫

[sxorpiomooon]

How would a tarot reader describe you to them? A pac reading

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Pile 1-

They would describe you as someone who knows when to strike. Someone who's patient and knows when to grab the opportunity, someone who understands the value of the right timing. I had a vision of a cheetah then a cat in their attacking mode waiting to grab their prey. Someone who's hardworking and very detail oriented about their work. Someone who's very traditional too and likes to go by the rules, someone who might also be religious and a good teacher. Someone who teaches very good and will have their juniors looking at them for advices and approval of any sort. Someone who looks for a very equal partnership I'm seeing a lot of this reading revolving around career you'll meet this person when you are working and pretty settled I'm getting 24 or late 20s. This will also be a very true love they might talk about how you will both be equals in relationship and work like a team. I also heard "bosslady"?

Pile 2-

Someone who feels too much guilty about everything, you might be going through a bad phase I think. This pile is most likely to have a very hard terrible time growing up hating themselves and everything and once they grow up they will be all about loving themselves and others, true enlightenment. A lot of rage which is the result of love. Someone who is also probably learning or will learn to see themselves for who they truly are that is, someone who is always in the spotlight and comfortable in it. Someone who always attracts everyone wherever they go I'm seeing sparkly eyeshadow? Golden and blue you might love to dress or style other people up.

Pile 3-

Someone who can give the most heartwarming compliments as well as the most ruthless insults. This reading will be mostly focused on your communication skills. Someone very sure of who they are and their identity. Someone who is capable of making things happen and make sure to do so. Someone who is very blunt and can come across as very blunt sometimes. Someone who goes to the root of the problem to solve it very extraordinary communication skills. Someone who is very insightful and might all of a sudden get inspiration of things I'm seeing a very big map or something. Looking at the other card it makes sense lmao someone who wants to do alot of things just for the sake of doing them. Someone who genuinely lives and experiences.

Pile 4-

Someone very resilient and determined. Someone who just refuses to give up no matter what. Someone who endures very well I had a vision of someone just breathing in a big sun in their chest. Accepting everything like it's your own. Someone who knows how to overcome obstacles. Someone who over analyses and has a very restless mind. I had a vision of someone constantly doing that thing with leg where they are always moving it anxiously. Someone who will achieve alot purely because of their hardwork, determination and resilience. This pile probably needs to hear this, you are going to make it very big pile 4 keep working hard.

[lady-ashfade]

Pretty girl

Yandere Percy Jackson x Aphrodite!Bimbo fem!reader. (Slight Yan! Aphroditesiblings)

Plot: Maybe the power of your beauty worked a little too well on him. Percy can’t get you out of his head.

-£ he’s aged up and I’m thinking of book Percy

Warnings: Spoilers for the books? Yandere tendencies, Jealousy, Percy being possessive, Percy thinking he as some of claim on you, Reader being a bit naïve and the baby of her cabin, and not knowing how to fight, Percy being kinda mean to the reader, over all toxic.

if there was one thing he wanted in this life. it would be to call you his.

percy never saw anything more beautiful in his life then when he looked at you for the first time when he arrived at camp. sitting with your sisters and giggling as they braided your hair, you didn’t notice him. he was with luke while getting to know the camp, he just stopped at stared at you. his cheeks flushed and heart beating faster as he heard the faint sound of your cute laugh. the older boy took notice and realized what was happening.

“Aphrodite’s daughters, the one in the middle is y/n. She’s the camp’s sweetheart, I don’t think there is a mean bone in her body.” Percy pulled away from you for a second to look at luke but just went back to you. “is she seeing anyone?” luke just laughed and patted him on the back.

“Aphrodites cabin keeps her away from anyone other then them, no one as been bold enough to try. So good luck,” after a few seconds of standing there like a love struck idiot he was pulled away and forced to go found out who is godly parents is.

Percy was proven right when he tried to approve you many times. your sisters just glared at him and pulled you away without you noticing he was even there, and he tried so many times. that only tempted him more. so he started following you around and watches you. laughing, playing in the water as your sister watched, or brushing your hair. where ever you went he wasn’t far behind.

this sparked his yandere behavior. he was convinced you were waiting for him to take you away. you need someone to kiss the ground you walk on and protect you. he was always watching you and when he went a day without seeing you he get cranky.

luckily, after months of just watching you he was finally able to find you alone with no sibling in sight. he watched you with a smirk as you cut through the air with your sword and played pretend. he never saw you in training or around, and never with any weapons. you must have stunk away from your cabin and tried to train yourself.

it was adorable how you thought you could teach yourself. being so weak and clumsy. Percy watched for a few minutes as you copied some simple moves you must have saw and small screams.

it wasn’t until you tripped over a root sticking up from the ground he was rushing towards you.

“Poor thing,” you turned your head at a voice behind you while you sat on the ground getting your pants covered in dirt. “Need some help?” as you looked up at him he realized how bad he had been craving to have your attention on him. he was close to you now. all alone. this was his opportunity.

embarrassment set inside of you and your body heated up and started to sweat. you looked away from him and started to get up on your own. “how much did you see.” You picked up the sword and played with the handle.

“not much, just you taking a nasty fall.” You nodded your head as he spoke and started to walk closer to you. “I could help if you want, I’ve fought a few things before.” His cheeky smile and tone made you look at him. You knew who he was, of course you did. he saved camp, he stopped a war. he was a hero.

and the most handsome boy you have seen.

it was unreal to think about how he was talking to you now. offering to help you after you embarrassed yourself in front of him. “um, you can if you want.” the small sound of your voice made his heart pulse faster. he was finally getting what he wanted. so he only smiled and grabbed ahold of your hand that held the sword.

as he spoke he moved behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist and pushed your foot back to get you balanced. his other hand still holding yours. you could barely focus when he was so warm, your crush was helping you! Percy noticed how quiet you got and he was so smug about it. “Y/n.” He looked at you as your eyes stared over his face barely hearing the words from his lips.

“Not much going on in that head, hmm? Maybe fighting isn’t for you.” his hand took the blade from your grasp and he stepped away from you. you got shy when you realized he had caught you staring.

your fingers play with the ends of your camp shirt, “I wanna protect myself.” He titled his head and his hand reached up to play with your hair. “You have the camp to do that, and of course I’ll keep you safe. But you just have to stay and look pretty.”

you looked so embarrassed and shy at his statement you eyes stayed away from him and stood awkwardly. Percy smiled and chuckled, “Maybe you should hang out with me? I could teach you a bit to protect yourself…Or you probably don’t wanna-” as he spoke he started to move away from you, knowing you’d actually take his offer.

“No, no! I’d love to.” You reached for him again with a smile. “Please.” He looked back at you and let out a fake sighed. if only he could show the huge smirk he had to fight back. you were just to easy to manipulate.

“then you stick by me now then, pretty girl?” you nodded your head and clapped your hands excitedly now having someone to train you. but Percy was happy you would stay by him now and no one could pull you away from, he had his hooks in you. and so what if they tried? not like they’d find their bodies anyway, who would look in the lake? no one would miss them away.

all that matter was you and him.

[fangswbenefits]

Backfire

(amazing art by @dopepoisonivyoncrack 🥺🩷 thank you so much!)

Summary: You should have known better than to make Astarion jealous, and now you are left to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Jealous/Possessive Astarion. Orgasm denial. Fingering. Edging. PiV. Creampie. Knife (dagger) play. Body worship. Innuendo.

Word count: 3.4k

You vaguely wondered how long it would take to set Astarion off.

He was glancing at you from across the camp, leaning against an oak tree as he twirled a dagger in between his masterful fingers.

The fluid motion broke your concentration for a moment.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and you quickly realised he was aware of your attempts.

Shit.

So much for subtlety.

Maybe you should have picked Wyll to test his jealousy as you reckoned it would have been more effective.

But now it was too late.

You feigned innocence as you patted Gale's arm, mindlessly nodding as he happily explained the intricacies of a chicken broth that he was preparing for later.

“See, the essence of this dish lies in getting the proper ingredients,” he went on, dipping the ladle into the steaming pot and stirring it gently before bringing it to his lips. “Hmm. Definitely lacking something, as I suspected.”

“Really? It smells very pleasant,” you said truthfully as the soft breeze wafted the delectable fragrance your way.

Gale raised one finger. “Mushrooms.”

“What?”

He nodded. “It requires a touch of mushrooms to fully bring out its flavour.”

You patted his shoulder with a warm smile. “I’m sure we can do without it.”

But Gale’s enthusiasm immediately wavered, his brows sinking. “Absolutely not. We require a proper meal and a proper meal is what I shall provide.”

Oh.

He stirred the broth again before rummaging through a satchel at his feet. “Well, I don’t suppose you could fetch me a few?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you found that Astarion had vanished.

Shit.

Your plan shattered into pieces as the object of your teasing was nowhere to be seen.

“Could you?”

Gale’s voice snapped you out of your frustration and you found yourself frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I need some mushrooms, my friend.”

Your frown deepened, but you really had no choice now and a refusal would most likely break his heart.

“Where can I find them?”

Gale beamed with a wide grin. “I spotted a few on the side of the road and near some trees as we were setting up camp. I was foolish enough not to pick them and now I’m burdening you.”

You shrugged with a sigh. “It’s no bother. I was the one who asked you to teach me some of your cooking tricks.

“Ah! You should have trained to become a wizard,” he said with an approving nod. “A hungry stomach and an equally hungry mind.”

As much as you wished to return his enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but to feel annoyed at yourself for the appalling attempt at riling Astarion up.

Maybe he had seen right through it and merely walked off, probably chuckling.

But maybe you had stirred something inside him that ultimately caused him to leave.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

You followed Gale’s instructions, nearing a forest area, shaded from the sun as the canopies of the surrounding trees grew denser and branches intertwined with each other above you.

It didn’t take you long to spot a conglomerate of a few rounded caps by the protruding roots of a large and thick oak tree.

Unsheathing your dagger, you squatted down and began dicing through the spongy stalks.

You were halfway through your task, when you felt the cold press of metal resting on the side of your neck, freezing you in place.

A smile crept across your face.

“I don’t suppose you value your life enough if it’s this easy to sneak up on you.” The blade moved upwards and along your jaw, causing you to turn your head. “Darling.”

You flinched away from Astarion’s grasp and both of you rose to your feet in an instant.

“I doubt any foe would be as delicate as you should they intend to truly harm me.”

He twirled his dagger, offering a devious smile. “Point taken.”

As expected, praising him always did wonders. 

And it was absolutely true and equally expected that a skilled rogue could move in the shadows with unmatched prowess. 

But then, the mood shifted as he deepened his smile. “What were you doing back there with Gale?”

Oh?

You cleared your throat, sheathing your blade once again at your hip. “I was merely observing his cooking skills.”

He took a step in your direction.

“Were you, now?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, darling.”

You allowed yourself to move back with each step he took. “And you’re not as perceptive as you think you are.”

“You weren’t trying to deliberately make me jealous, were you?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart drumming hastily in your chest.

Astarion’s feet only came to a brief halt once your back hit the rough surface of the tree trunk behind you, effectively rendering you immobile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

A shameless lie that he immediately tackled. “A lousy liar who’s even worse at vexing me,” he tutted before pressing one knee right in between your legs. “I taught you better than this.”

The air in your lungs stilled momentarily as his arms were now on either side of your head, caging you. 

“Gale was the one offering his teachings.”

He dropped one hand below your chin, tapping it teasingly with the side of his blade and tilting your head back. “Please. I highly doubt that dullard could offer anything of value where it really counts.”

“Astarion…” you drawled in delight. “Are you actually jealous?”

His brows furrowed together. “Obviously not.”

Inside, you were thoroughly enjoying how your fleeting attempt had indeed been successful, despite Astarion’s denial.

You could see it in his narrowed crimson eyes and how the faintest of scowls deepened the lines on his handsome face.

That stroked your ego in a way that almost made you shudder.

You tried to ignore how he was now pressing his knee harder.

His lips almost brushed against your and, for a split second, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he tipped his head to the side and you felt his cold touch on your cheek.

A shiver ran down your spine and you gripped his arms.

“What are you doing?”

He chuckled. “Showing you what really counts.”

“And what is that?” you asked, words coming out shaky.

Astarion adored taunting you with words, but he excelled at rendering you speechless with his skilled touch. 

So it came as no surprise when eventually sheathed his blade and had his hand tug your shirt free from the waistband of your trousers, sliding his hand underneath.

This was bad for you.

Terrible, in fact.

He had the upper hand.

And he fucking knew it.

His fingers brushed along your lower abdomen and his voice was raspy in your ear. “If I slide my hand inside… what will I find?”

Your body was too used to him by now to the point that he could have you throbbing for him with little effort.

The knee dropped and you almost whined at the loss of friction against your swelling clit.

“Answer me,” he said, tugging at the waistband.

You swallowed. “Nothing much…”

Was there even a point in deceiving him now? 

Expert fingers tugged at the lacings, loosening the fabric just enough for him to be able to slip underneath, his fingertips gently gliding in between your folds, avoiding your clit altogether. 

But you were wet enough to draw a pleased grunt from him.“What is this, then?”

You gasped, involuntarily clenching around nothing and feeling a gush of wetness spilling as your body reacted in anticipation.

“Use your fingers properly and find out.”

Your taunt didn’t go amiss. “Maybe an apology is in order,” he said, arrogance dripping from each word. “It seems that your foolish attempt at making me jealous has backfired.”

Much to your frustration, your hips rolled into his touch, silently wishing he would stop avoiding your swell.

“How has it backfired?” you managed to say as one finger teased your entrance.

He ignored your question and began trailing kisses along your jawline, his other hand working hurriedly at the front of your shirt.

Of course.

You knew all too well that you’d feel his cock hard enough if he was already this eager to expose your breasts.

One by one, he undid each lacing, and he pulled back just enough for his gaze to drop as the fabric parted and he gently pulled down the binding that held your chest in place.

Your nipples quickly hardened and you rolled your hips once more, causing one of his fingers to slide inside.

He hadn’t intended for that to happen, but he was so transfixed with your breasts that he was caught off guard.

It was the vicious clenches around his finger that snapped him out of it and his lustful eyes met yours. “Give me one reason not to slide out of you.”

You smiled in between gasps as he sank deep inside. “Should I ask Gale what he’d do in your position, then?”

And just like that, Astarion snapped.

A second finger slithered past your tightness and he brought his lips to your ear. “Careful, darling. Choose your words wisely or you’ll be riding your own mage hand instead.”

Oh, this was delicious.

Astarion was visibly annoyed and it did wonders to your confidence. 

It wasn’t easy to get him all worked up, but it only fueled your ego and made you quicken the pace.

Your whimpers increased in intensity and you looped your arms around his neck for added support, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist. The new angle allowed him to go knuckle-deep and you shuddered as his strained erection pressed against his hand nudged him even deeper.

He groaned first, clearly enjoying the newfound friction, and you clenched hard at how his face twisted in pleasure.

“Look over my shoulder,” he suddenly said, his half-hooded eyes finding yours.

Somehow, and in between each roll of your hips, you complied, realising just how close to camp you truly were. Close enough to make out the silhouette of Shadowheart who was now at Gale’s side as he worked on his broth, probably wondering what was taking you so long to bring him some mushrooms.

“What about it?” you asked, a bit louder than intended when he sank all the way in once more.

His lips brushed against yours this time, dragging his fingers back as you clenched desperately around him. “You either keep it down or we’ll have an audience soon enough.”

“Would you mind?”

He stilled abruptly. 

“What? Having Gale hear you coming undone for me?” he taunted as you tried to have him back inside, your hips following his retreating hand. “That he would soon realise he could never provide such bliss to his lover?”

You whined in responde, frustrated that you were now faced with an agonising emptiness.

“See, darling,” he continued, sliding one finger back inside, but not quite deep enough to fully satisfy you. “I can be quite generous when I want to.”

“But what?” you groaned, trying to have him sink deeper to no avail.

There was always a ‘but’.

He placed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back. “But I am not willing to share your cries of pleasure with anyone else.”

“Then silence me.”

The most devious grin settled on his face and you knew you had just offered a challenge he would gladly take.

And with his other hand, you watched as he brought the handle of his dagger close to your lips.

“Open.”

Your eyes widened and your heart immediately skipped a beat. “Astarion…”

“As much as I’d love to have your lips wrapped around my cock,” he said with a click of his tongue, parting your lips for him. “I am more interested in finding out how quiet my dagger can make you.”

You clenched around him so fiercely he actually growled.

Your teeth sank into the handle and you readied yourself for what was to come.

Astarion trailed your lower lip affectionately as it wrapped around the leather wrappings and a second finger joined the first, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit as he pumped in and out, never breaking eye contact with you.

The moans and whimpers and gasps that slipped from you were being effectively muffled and you were thankful he had decided to silence you this way, because when the third finger nudged at your entrance, you could only roll your eyes shut as your bit hard around his dagger.

“Surely you can take one more,” he teased, his voice low.

You eagerly nodded, rolling your hips into him, knowing you were more than ready for the added thickness.

It slid inside painfully slowly and the stretch had you gasping and nearly dropping his dagger, which he promptly secured in place.

“Now, I know it’s not as thick as my cock, but I am sure you can keep those pretty lips wrapped around it,” he taunted.

You groaned with a nod eager to please.

Eager to come undone for him.

The combination of being so full of him and how he allowed you to rub your clit on his palm was too much. The lewd sounds were almost too obscene and you gripped both hands together, holding onto the remainder of the sanity you had left.

For a brief moment, he allowed you to ride three of his fingers, giving you the illusion that you’d reach your peak easily and rather quickly.

But Astarion wasn’t forgiving even if he had been rather generous thus far. 

And you should have known that your actions would have consequences.

His generosity came to an abrupt halt just as you felt the familiar coil down below becoming more and more overwhelming, your body quickly reaching the point of no return.

Your gasps were now becoming more erratic and you were visibly struggling to keep a hold of the dagger in your mouth.

And then you felt a painful emptiness as he pulled out from you at once.

He chuckled when you groaned in sheer frustration, not allowing you to spit the dagger out and curse him to the Nine Hells.

You felt the urge to cry as he denied you from reaching your high, your hips still moving on their own accord in the hopes of finding his fingers again.

“Now, now,” he tutted, caressing your flushed cheek with his thumb, a single tear streaming down your face. “You didn’t think I would be that generous, did you?” 

Fuck you!

Your words came out muffled, but he understood enough to continue his taunt. “I know you want to, but not before I have some assurances first.”

Impatience took over you, but you managed to arch an inquisitive brow at him.

He pressed his lips where his thumb had been, kissing your tear away. “Tell me no one can make you feel like this.”

Your eyes widened once more as he pulled the dagger from your teetering teeth.

“I’m all pointy ears, love,” he urged, meeting your eyes. “Go on.”

Astarion adored being praised, but this was just cruel.

Your teasing hadn’t been solid enough to warrant such punishment. You had been so close to your peak… 

“Astarion…”

He shook his head with a frown. “No, no, no. You do not get ‘cuddly and sweet Astarion’ after what you’ve pulled, sweetheart.”

Your hands came to grip his shoulders almost pleadingly, but you knew you had no other choice if you were to reach your climax anytime soon.

“No one can… no one…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

Of course he wasn’t.

It took more than that to fill his ego.

“I’ve ruined you for anyone else,” he said with an intense smile. “You know that, don’t you?”

You immediately nodded, fully agreeing and not out of despair.

“Can you be good for me, then?”

Another nod as you tried to nudge him closer with the leg wrapped around his waist just to prove your point.

“Your pleasure is mine,” he said, bringing the handle of his dagger back to your lips and, this time, you quickly wrapped them around it. “My pleasure is yours.”

He removed his hand from inside your trousers and he pushed your leg down so he could tug them down your legs to give him better access.

Once you had slipped out of them, he eagerly wrapped you around his waist as he tugged at the front of his own trousers, until he freed his cock.

You gave it a quick glance, pleased to find the tip glistening with precum.

“Bite down hard, darling,” he warned, aligning you with him. “I know you adore how my cock stretches you.”

You did as you were told and he sank into you in one swift thrust of his hips.

He was all the way in and your back arched as he steadied you with both hands.

The first clenches around his cock made him mumble a string of curses as he tried to adjust to your tightness.

It didn’t take long for him to set the pace, slowly fucking you against the oak tree.

You weren’t going to last long from this new angle, and neither was he. It would be rather easy to get him to lose all control if you lost yours first. Astarion was rarely able to withstand your contractions as you rode out your climax.

His eyes were locked on yours, but something caught your attention.

Suddenly, your hazy eyes managed to focus on the camp nearby and you watched as someone seemed to be approaching in the distance.

Oh… fuck…

Was it Gale?

No.

It was Wyll.

You clenched around him almost panicking, until you realised he wasn’t coming any closer and had simply taken a turn down the hill, waving at Gale.

Your mind was too overtaken by how his cock felt inside you to care about the context of that exchange. 

Having Astarion being so eager to prove you that no one else could fuck you this way, had you undulating your body against his, always making sure he could bure himself fully inside you with each thrust.

Oh.

You were too close.

“Eyes on me,” he hissed, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

Dangerously close.

Especially when you met his crimson eyes again.

And you almost topped over the edge at once when you saw him doing something you had never witnessed before.

He finally broke eye contact and his gaze was once again on your breasts and hardened nipples.

And then…

With his free hand, he pulled his own shirt up the length of his body, securing the hem in between his own teeth, fangs digging into the fabric.

What…

He wrapped his arm around your torso and pulled you into him, your breasts pressed against him. The sight was breathtaking as you felt your nipples rub briefly against his, earning a guttural groan from him.

Astarion allowed you to sink all the way down his cock and you could no longer hold back the intense wave of pleasure that came crashing down as you felt his balls pressed against you.

You were biting down so fiercely on the handle of his dagger, you feared youd snap it in half as your first contractions tore through your body.

He pressed your back hard against the tree, and with a final grunt into the crook of your neck, he began spilling inside you, allowing you to squeeze his cum with each of your rhythmic clenches.

You clawed at the back of his shirt, feeling your mind blank as you came down from the overwhelming height of your pleasure mixed with his.

It was hard to steady your breaths and you weren’t sure you had ever come this hard in your life, but it felt like a shared sentiment as Astarion remained buried inside you even when his cum began to spill and drip.

The dagger fell to the ground and you gasped for air, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head through his messy curls.

“Gods…” he eventually groaned, showing no intention of pulling out. 

You grunted in agreement, caressing his damp hair.

“Should I tease you again?” you almost chuckled in between heated pants. “Wyll next?”

He pulled back and shot you a murderous glare. “Don’t you dare…”

Masterlist

[the-oracleof-delphi]

PAC: Your Future Spouse - their Relationship with their Parents

What sort of dynamics do they share with their parents? What are they like? We will not be focusing on genders or relations per se, rather dominant masculine energy and feminine energy in their lives. For ease of understanding I will use the term "mother" and "father". Pick a picture:

Pile One - Hot chocolate & marshmallow

For some of you, your future spouse may come from a single parent household. Their mother may not have spent a lot of time with them while they were growing up, maybe she did not get the chance to. She was busy, may have been the sole earner of the family, had to cater to a lot of people, could only take care of the material needs of her children but not their emotional needs. Your spouse sees their mother as someone who is stern and emotionally closed off. But at the same time she is wise - somewhat of a 'guiding light' for him, I sense a lot of respect and gratitude towards her. If there is a sibling, then both of them definitely look up to their mother a lot. I feel like they always consult her when making any career-related decisions. To them, she is a logical, capable, and a practical person who is rooted in reality. For a few of you, your spouse may be part of a family business. For others, they may be pursuing higher education - their career is funded by their mother in some way. The father was probably absent. For a very few of you, he may have cheated on your spouse's mother (I feel like he had a second family ? o.O) The parents may have separated when your spouse was quite young. I see a lack of communication with the father, there is quite a bit of distance, coldness and separation. For some, the father may have passed away.

Pile Two - Christmas cookies

Currently, your future spouse may be living at a distance from their family and they miss their home a lot. Especially now, during the holiday season - if they didn't get the chance to visit their hometown. Your spouse may get along very well with their mother - they may be a bit of a mama's boy. To them she is a nurturing and supportive person and I can see they are attached to her, but in a very healthy way. The mother is a source of emotional and material stability for them. They have a lot of fond memories from their childhood with her that they look back to from time to time. She is someone who celebrates your spouse. She never holds them back and encourages them to expand their horizons. Communication between them is free-flowing and easy-going. The father provides material stability to your spouse. Although they see their father as lot less emotional, and may be a bit more rigid and tough with them. They may sometimes feel like they need to earn their father's approval and that their father is generally displeased with them. This is your spouse's pov and may not be necessarily true. Overall I see a happy and satisfied family.

Pile Three - Christmas wreath

Your future spouse definitely comes from a pretty well-off family. I see the mother as bit of a prominent figure here - she has a lot on her plate. If she is working, then she is in a position of authority, if not then she probably comes from a very affluent family - I can see both power and prestige. Your spouse's relation with their mother may be stressful at times. But I don't sense any serious resentment towards her. They may feel like their mother never has enough time for them. Maybe she compensates by showering your spouse with a lot of material gifts. Although your spouse don't see their mother as much as they wished to, she still is a source of great comfort and joy for them. She is the one who makes the family complete. They are quite pampered and spoiled by her. She provides them both materially and emotionally. Communication between them is pretty direct and clear-cut. Your spouse may get some form of inheritance from their mother in the future. Their relationship with their father too is pretty balanced and stable. But, at the same time it can be a bit business-like (?) the father maybe a bit firm and emotionally detached. I feel like your spouse craves emotional closeness with their father but they feel it is out of their reach. Maybe in the past they felt like the father intentionally robbed them of that emotional fulfillment. But their views may have changed now. They definitely see their father to be someone at the top of whatever they do - well respected and secure. There is a lot of admiration for him from your spouse. edit: corrected typo, changed a few lines. Overall meaning stays the same.

Credit: @/i-hani and @/saradika-graphics on tumblr

[bunny-jpeg]

Hiii, could I get a carrot cake and churros with a side of root beer with john price? Thank you sm 🫶🫶

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? check out the menu! there are tons of options to choose from! i write for fandoms outside of call of duty so please check it all out! mean!price has my heart! he doesn't have time for whiny subs so he just shoves it in your throat to shut. you. up. i hope you enjoy!! <3

carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + churros ("if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?") + root beer (filming/recording) served by capt. john price (call of duty)!

cw: smut/pwp, oral sex (price receives), rough sex, mean dom!price, facials, cock slapping, dirty talk, implied baby trapping, american solider!reader, power dynamics, implied daddy issues, manipulation

"you like this, don't ya? ya like when you have a camera in your face. ya fuckin' attention whore." price said in a dangerous tone.

you looked up at him with a mouth full of his cock. this wasn't how a soldier should be. they should stand with pride for their country, not have their commander's leaky cock run across your face, smearing clear pre-cum across the bridge of your nose. price liked when he got the sticky substance all over your face. only second to having it stuffed into your aching pussy. bareback of course, if you got pregnant then there was a nice little cottage out in the countryside of england where you can raise the little one(s).

"captain." you panted, almost heaving from the lack of oxygen, "why are you filming me?" your bottom lip wobbled a little.

"sweet fuck, baby girl." he said as he shoved his cock up into your face, almost slapping you in the eye, "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full till you pass out. okay? now be good." and groaned when you started to suck him off again.

you craved approval, since your transfer from america to england. you had be eager to impress the older captain. you had seen how decorated he was. which was why you were eager to let him be so intimate with him. at first it was quick fucks once in a while in empty offices or storage closets. and while it was all fun and games (that fed your weird daddy issues), price wanted more. price had learned from his time in the forces to not let a good thing pass him by.

to keep anything in the military, it meant digging your nails into it. marking it, branding it as your own. and you had a little 'j' on your thigh. price's mark on you, or the only one you had for now. just as price's filthy words stung you in an erotic way, his praise built you up.

"you look good on your knees. always so eager to do more. you're a greedy girl, but that's what i like about ya. starvin' for me. knowin' i'll give it to ya."

you whined in response. fuck, you were perfect. price felt like he needed to give laswell the nicest bottle he could get for transferring you so far away from your home base. where you easily fell into price's arms and let him bully your tender throat.

he already bruised the skin with bites, might as well bruise the inside too. let your voice grow hoarse and need to rely on him more. his goal was to have you dependent on him. but, all things came with time.

"perfect girl for me. i bet they'll love this." his voice was low. you still didn't know why 'they' were.

regardless, you looked up at him and the camera, spit around your mouth. picture perfect. you looked better when you weren't asking questions, running your mouth when you should be using it for other things. you squirmed from your spot on the floor, shifting your knees. it hurt being on the hard ground for so long, but you'd be staying there until price was done with you. or finally broke and needed that sweet cunt of yours.

in reality, he was filming you for his team. he had been talking (gloating) about the solider who is more eager to be on her knees than fight. he talked about how he could probably break your neck if he choked you hard enough or suffocate you on his cock. not that price would ever do that. no, no, his little transfer was needed for something much better.

carrying on the price name. tonight he wasn't going to touch your pretty pussy, he knew you were wet from the sight of the phone in your face. but he had to make you more desperate, that you'd throw caution (protection) to the wind and let price decorate your insides with his seed. the video tonight was a teaser for his boys, to show what is possible to get with hard work and determination. all that ra-ra bull crap to keep his team motivated. that if they were good and played their cards right, then a little bird would easily be theirs.

price knew he worked with a few womb bruisers, and he wasn't an exception.

not the price wanted to share you, but he knew you had some friends back in the states. and maybe they'd as easily charmed as you were. they build 'em nice in america, perfect for a brute like the ones on 141. he continued to fuck your mouth, letting you drool and make a mess of his cock.

the camera was a little shaky, and you had a hard time focusing on it in front of you. it wasn't meant to be professional. it was more a showcase of the capabilities of the united states forces. loyal to country and the cock put in their faces. it was cute.

"why don't you tell the boys 'ello." price chuckled as if you could talk. he'd be surprised if you could forma thought right now that wasn't the eight inches of cock in your throat. that's alright, the future mrs. price didn't need to be thinking. let your husband do all the talking and thinking, okay? you just sit there pretty with the kids.

you opened your eyes a little and made a small noise. everything felt on high alert, over saturated to hell and it made your head throb. your cunt was almost cramping from the need to have price inside of you. messing up your poor pussy. but right now you'd have to settle on having your mouth used. and you wouldn't dare try to touch yourself, it was better to be on price's good side than bad.

"yeah, there she is. still got some brains left in her." price chuckled as he pinched your cheek with his rough hand, "c'mon, darling. give the boys a smile."

you tried to smile with cock in your mouth and it made price even more turned on. always so perfect. no wonder they let you into the armed services, you were obedient like a dog. your smile dropped as price fucked your face even faster.

you brain couldn't keep up with your movements, you were like a toy to price. and that was how he liked you, blissed out and used for his pleasure. he also used you for his aggression when the shooting range was clothes. it was almost the same, he wasn't firing blanks either way.

price pulled out and stroked his cock quickly to cum on your tongue, but missed for the most part and got it all over your face. he groaned and relaxed, the phone almost tumbled out of his hands. "swallow it. all of it." he said, expecting you to clean up his mess. old man couldn't even cum straight. he patted your cum covered face while you tried to get it off your skin before it dried.

the captain got close into your face with the camera, showing how the creamy cum gleamed on your skin. he took you by the jaw and chuckled, "ah, there she is. pretty girl." you whined and he added, "see boys, take good care of 'em, you won't go runnin'. now darling what do we say the captain when he makes ya feel good?"

you opened your eyes a little, a rivet of cum went down your lips as you said, "thank you captain price." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek.

price stopped filming, putting his phone to the side. a pretty blissed out thing on the floor of his office deserved a reward. instead of carpet burn on your knees, it was going to be all over your back. <3

[inamindfarfaraway]

I would find Blondie Lockes very annoying in real life, but I love her in fiction. She's a genuinely good journalist in terms of both skill and ethical integrity, who only occasionally forgets to check the facts because she's fifteen and holds herself accountable when she does. She has incredibly high standards for everything and believes herself to be the ultimate authority on quality. She has magical lockpicking powers because her fairytale is about Goldilocks breaking into a house. She somehow completely ignores the story's moral that Goldilocks was wrong to break into the house, feels entitled to go wherever and help herself to whatever she's able to and cannot comprehend why people dislike this. She's been terrorizing an anthropomorphic bear family with her cheerful disrespect for privacy and is convinced that they love her. She has a non-anthropomorphic pet baby bear. Her motivation is dependence on external approval rooted in deeply internalized classism. She's desperate to be useful and important to those with higher social status and feels the need to lie that her family is technically royalty to fit in with her royal friends, even though they treat commoners like equals all the time. She positions herself as a conduit of true greatness; closer to it than the masses, but never the hero, always reporting on other people and evaluating what they've done. Because what she's done isn't enough to be worthwhile. What she is isn't enough. But this performative lifestyle makes her anxious about being judged as a fraud and an interloper, and ashamed of selfishly transgressing against social norms. Her microphone head looks like an adorable little bear head. That's one hex of a character alright.

[societyfolklore]

Ask Santa Nicely

Title: Ask Santa Nicely (Prompt- you have to behave if you want your present) Pairing: Dark!Dom Bucky x Female Reader

Summary: Trapped on his lap, he reminds you that good girls get presents—and bad ones get punished. In the glow of the Christmas tree, he teases you, toys with you, and shows you exactly who’s in control. Behaving for Santa was never this hard.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings:  /Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, smut, DARK , Cockwarming, overstimulation, Unprotected sex, Petnames. Not Beta read.A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge- Day 18)

The room was quiet, save for the crackling fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. The Christmas tree glimmered in the corner, its soft light reflecting off the glass ornaments. Outside, snow fell steadily, muffling the world beyond the windows. Inside, however, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

You were perched on Bucky’s lap, his arms wrapped around your waist in a grip that left no room for escape. His metal hand rested possessively on your thigh, the cold metal biting against your skin even through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. His flesh hand traced lazy circles against your lower back, his movements deceptively tender. But his voice, low and commanding, reminded you of exactly who was in control.

“You’ve been acting like a brat all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “And you think you deserve a present?”

You squirmed, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs, but his grip tightened, keeping you firmly in place.

“Answer me sweetheart,” he said, his tone sharpening.

“Yes,” you whispered, your cheeks burning.

He chuckled, the sound dark and condescending. “That’s not how you ask, doll. Try again.”

Your breath hitched as his hand slid higher up your thigh, his touch teasing but unyielding. “Please,” you managed, your voice trembling.

“Please, what?” he prompted, his smirk evident even though you couldn’t see it. “Be specific Doll.”

“Please… can I have my present?”

Bucky hummed in approval, his fingers brushing against the waistband of your shorts. “Better,” he said. “But I’m not convinced you’ve earned it yet Doll.”

You felt your heart sink, frustration bubbling to the surface. “What do you want me to do?” you asked, your voice edged with desperation.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Stay still,” he said simply. “And keep me warm Babbydoll.”

Your stomach flipped as his words sank in. “Bucky—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his metal hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. “Santa doesn’t like interruptions. You want your gift, you do as you’re told. Got it?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice softening just enough to make your heart ache.

*~*~*

The moments that followed blurred into a haze of heat and restraint. Bucky guided you, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second of your surrender. He didn’t let you move, his hands holding you firmly in place as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside you.

“See?” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. “You can behave when you try.”

Your thighs burned with the effort of staying still, every muscle in your body taut with tension. You wanted to move, to chase the release that hovered just out of reach, but Bucky’s grip and his low, commanding voice kept you rooted in place.

“Good girl,” he praised again, his hand trailing up your spine. “So good for me.”

The praise sent a shiver down your spine, but the ache between your legs was unbearable. “Bucky,” you whimpered, your voice cracking.

“What is it, doll?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Please… I need—”

He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. “Patience, sweetheart. Santa hasn’t decided if you’ve been good enough yet.”

You bit your lip, the frustration and desire coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might snap. Bucky seemed to sense it, his smirk widening as he began to move, slow and deliberate, dragging every sensation out to its breaking point.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his tone teasing and possessive. “Being at my mercy. Knowing I control every little thing you feel.” You could only nod, your words failing you as pleasure and pain blurred together. Being full of him, aching around him.

"Fuck, please, fuck, please, please let me cum,"

"That's not good enough," he chides.

He spread your moisture over you clit and rubbed until he felt it swelling against his fingertips. He could feel your excitement building- he pushed you near to the edge of climax and then stopped abruptly. Your head hung forward.

“Not yet..”

*~*~* You pussy twitches of its own volition, but you refuse to focus on any part of the sensation beyond the soothing pets of Bucky’s large hand. Soothing pets that just so happen to be on your thigh, and moving up. Up, his fingertips travel again, a little firmer than last time.

Back down.

Up again, his palm joining his fingertips to spread warmth over your thigh. “Your doing good sweetheart.”

He squeeze you mid-thigh. A small circle with his fingertips on that spot. A stroke up. A stroke down. Another circle.

Finally, finally he strokes his fingers up, finally he--

Back down again.

You groan and whine with frustration, 

“..I can’t.” Your whined, it was getting to much.

“You’re going to Doll.”

You pussy was warm and wet around him, a delicious sensation especially combined with the persistent little twitches you made when he touched you. His cock was thickening into full hardness inside- it was shockingly intimate. “I can-“ He rewarded for your petulance with three hard strikes on your right thigh. Another on the left side, followed by a fourth on the right again.

“I said you’re going to.” A firmer grip, the fingers of one hand digging deep into your thigh while the other travels up to your breasts to grab me there. He massaged, groped, rough enough that you were sure you’d have dark bruises from his fingertips come morning.

No matter how much you moan or whine, the merger attempts to grind, you were held completely still in Bucky’s unforgiving grip staring at the lights on the Christmas tree infront of you.

"Stay still, baby."

A fingertip brushes your clit and your muscles lock down. To shake or grind or do anything that will make Bucky stop. He hummed happily as his finger lazily flicks  your clit. There's no rhythm. No reliability. Only inconsistent stimulation that's impossibly frustrating in its randomness. You wanted to beg, but you know better. Bucky is in a torturing mood tonight, and begging won't do me any good, unless your goal is to egg him on.

Soft groping on your breast with his metal hand, with very little coordination between his fingers on my clit and the way he massages me. He starts to softly stroke around your nipple over your Tshirt, shifting the fabric to just barely brush over the tip. Your pussy squeezing Bucky so tight your leak out around him. He freezes with a sharp inhale, but only for a moment before he chuckles before he continues to flick your clit and trace around your nipple, no rhyme or reason to his movements, driving me out of my mind with want for ‘rhythm and regularity. “Is this what it’s going to take to get your to behave Baby girl?”

You make the mistake of whimpering and shifting in your need, feeling him twitch pressed so deep upside up. His hand pulls back from you clit before connecting sharply with your cunt, making me scream. His hand stays there and starts to rub your clit quickly. His other hand pulls back and strikes over your left breast, then my right.

"This what needs to happen for you to earn your gift?”

You shake and whine, an orgasm building. His teasing had made your so tense, taken you so close... Your wall twitches again and starts to get impossibly tight, your so full of him, His size makes you ache around his thickness. Unable to take it you start rocking your hips again, sobbing with need, feeling yourself drip around him. Finally, finally...

His fingers keep rubbing my clit as his cock fills and stretches you inside. You movements get stuttery and irregular, the pleasure too much for you. Bucky starts thrusting up to keep the rhythm, and pleasure crashes through you. Walls contracts again around his cock, and waves of pleasure start to roll down your spine.

Until Bucky pulls away and slaps my twitching clit.

You scream and squirm and whimper as he locks his arms around me to keep me from moving as he strikes you over and over, ruining the climax. Your poor, tortured pussy continues to twitch around him, squealing from the pain and pleasure.

"Bucky, please!!"

His hand slows and transitions to petting the sore skin around your cunt. With all the sensations easing, finally able to hear Bucky's laboured breath and soft snarling behind you.

"Bad..girl..”

His arms wrap tight around you, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. Strong, groping hands knead your aching thighs and tits, the grip firm and needy.

Bucky releases you from between his teeth and snarls in your ear, panting. With surprising softness, he whispers in my ear.

“Now, Behave..”  his voice was cold and raw “Or you don’t get your present.”

[toms-cherry-trees]

Safe In Your Arms || Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary:  There is only one person whom the Prince can find comfort with

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, lactation kink, mommy kink, p in v sex, handjob, edging and denial (m receiving), overstimulation (m receiving), implications that Aegon was beaten as a child, Aegon being a sad little meow meow, minor character death,

Author’s Note:  First time writing Aegon y'all!. But this idea had taken root in my brain and had to be delivered. Thank for to my lovely honorary wifey @aemondsbabe for brainstorming with me and giving me the seal of approval at an ungodly hour. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @fairysluna

The embrace catches you by surprise, a pair of strong arms circling your waist and a nose nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin. A large hand cups the round weight of your breast, clumsy fingers unsuccessfully trying to undo the buttons of your servant’s dress. The other lays flat against your belly, pushing your body flush against the prince standing behind you. You try to halt his movements, eyes darting around the nursery to ensure your privacy, even though you knew the children have gone out to the Godswood with the Queen and Princess Helaena. Still, you need to make sure no prying eyes will come across you two. You will not be the first servant the prince laid with, nor the last, but gossip would spread nonetheless if Aegon is found being so amorous with his children’s wetnurse.

He has already opened the first two buttons when you decide to stop him, gentle but firm fingers holding his own and pressing his hand against your heart. A small groan of discontent escapes his lips, and you can picture the scowl in his face without looking at him. He complies and abandons his efforts, but doesn't let go of your body, keeping you caged on a grip tighter than usual. You two linger like that for a few moments, surrounded by a comfortable silence. You could stay like that, but you know that something particularly bad has to occur for him to seek you during the day and with such desperation.

“My Prince?” You try to crane your neck to lay eyes on him, but he only groans again and buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your flesh. You feel dampness on your skin, like tears dropping slowly from his lashes.

With a bit of struggle you turn around, still trapped in his arms. You try to make him look up but he refuses, hidden into you like a cranky child. Over time you have learned how to read him, as easily as an open book laid out before your eyes. He has his way with words to brazenly flirt, jest and argue, but never to express his feelings, especially when they overwhelm him. He just tries to show with actions what his mouth refuses to say. 

Tenderly, like you would do to one of the children in your care, you force him to look up and meet your gaze. Red rims his eyes, violet pupils glossed over with unshed tears, the imprint of a slap still fresh and inflamed upon his cheek. You need not ask to know he has once more been caught in an altercation with his grandsire and mother, one in which he stood no chance. He never has a chance against them and the great plans they have for him, plans in which he has no say nor desire.

“Go to your bedchamber” You murmur quietly, two fingers pressing against his lips to stifle the protest that has already formed “I will be there shortly.”

Begrudgingly he drops his arms, quietly exiting the nursery, shoulders slumped and gaze downcast. You quickly finish your current duties, instructing another maid to cover for you as you make way to his chambers as discreetly as possible, excuses ready upon your lips should someone question your presence away from the children. But no one looks at you twice amidst the hustle and bustle of the Keep, and you find his door unguarded and unlocked.

Aegon has already thrashed the bed in a fit of anger, the blankets scattered around it while he lays under a sheet, still fully dressed and shoes still on. He clings to a pillow like a child to a beloved toy, although by the way he does it, so tight his hands touch his own arms, you think he is trying to actually hug himself, give himself some of the love he rarely got. You sit by his side, a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. He takes your hand, fingers tight around your wrist as he brings it up to his face, pressing your soft palm to his reddened cheek. He closes his eyes, and you notice yet more tears beading on his lashes, and the characteristic wobble of his lower lip. 

“Let’s get you comfortable, yes?” Soft tone and gentle words, a speech used many times before with him. You have been there a plethora of times with him drunk, hungover, crying, covered in spilled wine and his own waste. And time after time you have cleaned him, changed his clothes and dried his tears. You have snuck his soiled sheets and clothes to the laundresses, since you know his maids report his every word and action back to his mother, and you want nothing more than to spare him to the best of your abilities from his elders’ wrath.

Some nights he clings to your body desperately, his fingers digging on your hips as he begs you to stay. And you comply, unwilling to pile more sorrow on him and incapable of denying anything to those wide, sad eyes. 

He doesn’t say word, but you don’t need any to heed his call for help. You undress him easily, unbuttoning his doublet and undoing the laces of his breeches, leaving his clothes carefully folded on a nearby chair, the boots neatly by the side. When he remains in only his linen shirt and smallclothes, you put the bed together around him, tucking the sheets and smoothing the blankets as you quietly sing a lullaby, the same you use to put his twins to bed every night. It has the same calming effect on him as it had on them; the soothing of your voice halting his tears and making him relax his posture as he lets himself be cared for and pampered by your tenderness. 

Once he has settled comfortably, you lay by his side. Aegon immediately scoots closer to you, his head burrowed against your bosom and one arm draping around your waist. You trace his swelling cheekbone with featherlight touch. Whoever has slapped him has put quite a lot of anger into it, most likely his grandsire. It is not the first time things have gotten physical between them, and most certainly not the last. It seems the Hand thinks he can beat his grandson into the Prince he wants him to be.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Aegon often chooses to seek comfort and just push his problems to the back of his mind, but you still encourage him to voice his woes. More often than not he prefers to remain silent, but you always offer him the space to speak freely and without consequences should he want to. To know he won’t be judged or chastised, and he will only be met with the tenderness he deserves.

Long seconds linger in absolute silence before his voice breaks through, weak and constricted “They have found me a bride”

You only nod, not needing to ask more. Ever since Aegon’s first wife had passed, scarcely 3 nights after the birth of their twins, his grandsire and mother had pushed him to pursue another wife, a lady from a strong House to garner their support when the time came. Originally his mother had wanted him to marry Helaena, to strengthen his claim to the throne, but then the King intervened. The only time he put his foot down instead of letting his council rule on his behalf, and he did it to betroth Aegon to a branched out lady of House Velaryon, while promising Helaena to Aemond. While the siblings’ marriage flourished, Aegon found himself tied before the Gods to a woman he couldn’t love, to the extent it took 6 years for them to conceive, and she only lived enough to name them. 

At your silence, Aegon clings tighter to your body, his freshly blossoming tears dampening the front of your dress “I don’t want to, they can’t make me” His sniffs, and you notice him pressing his lips tightly together to force himself to be quiet.

You shush him, smoothing back his damp hair “You have to, sweetling. You are a Prince, and you have duties to your mother and family” Your words make him tense again, fisting your dress as he exhales loudly through his nose. 

“I have no duties, I am not the heir, I am just a failure they are stuck with. I’ve done everything they wanted of me, and still my mother won’t ever look at me with pride” Another conversation had one and a thousand times. As the firstborn male, all eyes turned to him when the King’s health began to fail, and even though he still lingers, he hangs only by a very fine thread. And the Hand has everything prepared to land the crown upon his own bloodline, whether his grandson wants to or not. And he most certainly doesn’t want to. 

You don’t argue, knowing that any attempt of contradicting him would only circle you back to the same arguments. You only let him speak, let it all escape his chest. But he has few words that day. There’s not much to say that has not been said already.

“Father never loved me. Grandsire only sees me as something at his disposal to use at convenience. Mother does not love me any more than what she is obliged to” His eyes meet yours, wide and adorable and terribly sad “I only have you. Just you. If they make me marry I won’t let you go. You cannot abandon me” His words carry an urgency and fear you hadn’t heard on him before. A deeply rooted terror of losing the only person who has not touched him with violence

You press tender kisses to his forehead, your touch gentle and warm “You will always have me, sweet boy. To the end of times. If they send you to the end of the world, I will be right behind you, taking care of you. If they put you on the throne, I will be at your feet as your most loyal servant”

Those reassuring words coax a smile out of him, a smile only meant for you. It is not often these days that Aegon is seen smiling, only in rare instances when he is with his children or with Sunfyre. All the others are reserved just for you. 

Another comfortable silence lingers between you two, eyes locked with one another as your fingers card through his blonde tresses, his breath becoming a little sharper every time you accidentally tug on a knot. His hands snake up your front, stopping just in the curve of your breasts as he waits for your permission. You easily undo the very first button, allowing him the pleasure of doing the rest. 

It takes him no time to have the front fully unbuttoned, pushing the fabric away to reach the object of his desire. The dazzled look he gets on his face whenever he stares at your bare breasts never fails to amuse you, as if he is staring at the most wonderful thing the world has to offer. His lips quickly find home around your perked nipple, releasing a satisfied sigh as he suckles at your milk, his hand cupping the free breast and massaging it lovingly, swiping his thumb over the hardened peak. You let out a content sigh, settling comfortably on the pillows as you watch Aegon nurse enthusiastically, barely stopping to breathe. 

It had been after one of his many nights out that he first found comfort that particular way. Smelling of cheap perfume, even cheaper spirits and covered in vile things you didn’t wish to identify he had returned, and once more you had been by his side, putting his broken pieces back together and trying to not let his cracks be seen by the world the next morning. His hands had roamed your body, as they often did, a touch you glady allowed; he had never once done one thing you didn’t let him do, not even while being so deep in his cups he couldn’t say his own name. He had rested his face against your bare chest, inhaling deeply the musk of your skin while he toyed absently with your breast. A sharp pinch to your nipple had coaxed out some droplets of milk, which he collected on his thumb and brought to his lips. He repeated the process several times before crossing eyes with you, searching your face for any sign of rejection, but you only smiled and helped him get comfortable in your lap as he latched onto your breast for the first time. Nothing could quite calm him like that afterwards.

The prince at your breast lets out small sounds of satisfaction and content sighs as he grips your flesh tenderly, massaging it to coax more of the rich liquid to come down. At first you think he is relaxing and perhaps close to falling asleep, but then you notice his free hand down his body, palming his erection over the sheet. His teeth graze the engorged bud of your nipple ever so delicately, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, accompanied by a growing dampness between your thighs. You rub them together discreetly, seeking some form of friction as you continue to watch Aegon clumsily touch himself, trying to balance his need for pleasure with the attention he is lavishing upon your tits. 

His whines take a desperate edge while he humps his own hand, his movements faltering since he doesn't know where to focus. Instinctively your hand moves slowly down his torso and under the sheets; you gently push his away and wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few tentative pumps.

“Do you want Mommy to take care of this?”

Both of you stop for a moment, eyes wide, and he even drops your breast in shock. He had very occasionally called you ‘mommy’, mostly ironically when you had ordered him around, or more intimately when you did certain things like tug on his hair or grip him a bit tighter. But you had never used the term that way, and by the way his cock throbs in your hand, the idea excites him as much as it does you. You give him a firm squeeze, making him jump on the bed

“I asked you something, sweet boy. I taught you how to use your words. Do you want Mommy to take care of your problem?”

Aegon swallows visibly, eyes still wide. His lips move rapidly, but no sound comes out other than a pathetic mumbling as he tries to unscramble his brains. He finally gives up and just nods, looking up pleadingly. But you don’t cave in and give him a firmer squeeze, earning a whimper from him

“Words” You say firmly, but without sounding too harsh. You don’t want to take him too far and make him scared. But you are also deeply curious on how far you can take this little jest. 

It seems to take all his strength to push out every word “Yes Mommy, please” He sounds so small and defenceless, bordering on innocence. If you didn’t know him much better you would believe him a man that has rarely laid with women. 

Encouraged, you stroke his hard cock slowly, swiping your thumb across the leaking head to gather the already forming drops and smearing them down his length. Aegon’s hands are everywhere, on your face, on your breasts, on your shoulders, pushing the rest of your dress out of the way to free more of your skin. He grips your hips, squeezes your thighs, seeks in your body an anchor to life as his face scrunches in pleasure. His breaths become ragged and you see his abdominal muscles tensing as he approaches climax. But as soon as you feel the familiar twitching you let go of him, your hand resting on the curve of his thigh. 

His eyes shoot open and he half sits, staring at you with a mix of desperation and indignation. He whimpers quietly, shifting his hips to try and get under your delicious touch again, but you slap his thigh gently to keep him still.

“No moving. Mommy is taking care of you and you don’t move unless I say so.” Your tone is low, whispering the words as you press your forehead against his, gazes locked on each other. The black of his eyes has widened, making the purple seem darker, and the tears have dried at last. All that remains is lust mixed with submission, all of it just for you.

You gently caress his stones, watching in amusement as gooseflesh spreads across his skin at the touch, his legs instinctively spreading wider to grant you better access. You trace your index up his length, following the path of the throbbing vein prominent on the underside of his cock, while he fists the sheets, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You lean down to kiss him, letting him drown his moans against your welcoming mouth when you finally pump him, keeping the pace steady.

Again you stop just seconds before he reaches climax, earning an even more desperate whimper from him.

“Mommy, please, it hurts, I want to-” His words are cut short when your free hand takes hold of a fistful of his hair, just enough to feel the pull in his scalp. The moan comes from the depths of his chest when you brush your lips against his ear.

“Are you a good boy? A good boy for Mommy?” 

He nods eagerly, his hands cupping your face to keep you close.

“I will be good Mommy. Please, please it hurts” His eyes gloss over, and his lower lip trembles again. He looks so pretty you struggle in your heart to carry on with this little game, even though he seems to enjoy it. And you are enjoying it too, so much you feel is unfair you are missing out on the best part.

You pull away just enough to drop your dress to the side, your smallclothes following suit. With Aegon flat on his back, it is easy for you to straddle his hips, letting the head of his cock snuggle in your slick folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when you rock your hips, gliding the heat of your cunt along his length. You take a slow pace, dragging out the moment as much as possible. But while you are in no rush to finish, Aegon is in a desperate hurry, pushing against your hips and mewling desperately to urge you on. When he tries to grab your hips you smack his hand away and lean in, so close your breaths mingle. 

“Stay still, sweet boy. You don’t want Mommy to get angry and leave you like this, do you now?”

“But Mommy” He pants heavily, beads of sweat gathering in his temples “I need it, please. I will be good. I need to be inside you. Please” 

You click your tongue, a smirk pulling at your lips. You smooth back his hair and press a kiss to his hairline, an almost soothing touch.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. But you have to keep being good and do as you are told, sweetling. If you are extra good, Mommy will let you spend inside her” 

With that promise in mind, Aegon does his best to stay still, but you don’t make it easy for him. The rhythm is tantalisingly slow, coming to a halt every time you or him get too close to climax. His desperation grows to uncharted levels, fingers digging on the mattress, fists so tight on the sheets his knuckles turn white, lip bitten so strongly between his teeth it leaves an imprint. Tears bead in the corners of his beautiful eyes and roll down, dampening the sheet underneath. When you stop for the umpteenth time and a sob racks his chest, you know he’s ready.

You sit back on your haunches and watch him carefully. His hair is toussled from how much he has trashed on the bed, his face puffy and tear streaked, the flush of his cheeks spreading down to his chest. His cock is angrily red and leaky, impossibly hard and coated in your juices. Every muscle on his body is tense like a bowstring ready to fire. You touch his taut abs, rubbing the aching muscles soothingly.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. You deserve your prize” 

The moan he releases as you line his cock with your entrance, sinking slowly until he is buried to the hilt, has surely been heard throughout the entire Keep. Encased in your tight heat, it takes no more than a few rocks of your hips for him to peak, back arching off the mattress dramatically as he screams his release to the vaulted ceilings, painting your walls with his spend. But you are not quite there yet. You continue to ride him, now at a dizzying pace, chasing your own release. His whines reach a new high, having barely time to recover from his groundbreaking climax. His abused cock is almost too sensitive to touch, and the drag of your cunt around him feels like fire climbing up his spine; the most deliciously tortuous fire. 

Your hips and thighs begin to ache from the exertion, but you are so close, and seeing your sweet Prince so ruined it's definitely spurring you on. You shift your angle just a bit, so the head of his cock brushes against a certain spot inside you that makes you feel like you can touch the stars, all while your fingers circle your neglected pearl. It takes no more than a few thrusts before you climax, your walls tightening around him and somehow drawing out a second peak from him, even though you are sure he doesn’t have much more left to give you. You ride out your release, halting only when the burning on your thighs becomes too much to ignore. 

You slide off and lay next to Aegon, who appears to still be waiting for his soul to return to his body. His eyes are wide, some stray tears still rolling, his breaths heavy and slow. When he whines quietly and turns to you, you reward him with a sweet smile and a tender, brief kiss upon the lips. Aegon snuggles into you, just like he likes it best, his face buried in your cleavage as he catches his breath. You rub his back in slow, soothing circles; he closes his eyes, his lips seeking and finding your nipples once more

While he suckles you lean closer, tracing his features with your fingertip

“You were such a good boy. So good for me. Mommy is so proud of you” 

The gentle praise goes straight to his heart, that much you can tell in the way he hugs you with his entire body and the upward turn of the corner of his mouth. You know he is tired, and perhaps his body is urging him to sleep. But to do that he needs one last little nudge

“Mommy will always be with you, my sweet Prince”

[sohnric]

gold stars – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: friends (idiots) to lovers au. fluff. a sprinkle of hurt/comfort in some parts, a hint of college au!!

wc: 9.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mention of toxic family behaviors, a joke about a praise kink. eric is an embarrassing loserboy but i love him sm

listen to: risk by gracie abrams

where everything eric sohn does is search for your approval, and where you reward him with a gold star sticker for every act of kindness. will you ever see him as more than just a friend?

a/n: thank you best friend @csenke for beta reading as always (i miss you deeply btw</33). also thank you @from-izzy for brainstorming with me and listening to me while i gushed about this silly fic idea. thanks @strayed-quokka lennon for giving me eric's insta username idea i will keep using it from now on in all fics AHAHA TT

If Eric was asked to pinpoint the exact moment where he started to rely on your validation, he wouldn’t really be sure of his answer. The truth is, somewhere deep inside of his soul, he knows the yearning has been there ever since he can remember, but the instance that is rooted in his memory as the core one– the one that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like a teenager in love for the first time (which he wasn’t! Nor a teenager, not in love for the first time… right..?) – was one Thursday afternoon after he came home from taking his last exam of the semester to find a message from you waiting in his Instagram DMs. 

Breathlessly clicking at the notification (and now, this should’ve been a sign of his growing feelings for you), he is welcomed with the sight of you sharing a post with him. Wholesome, but still a little silly, a picture of a yellow star poorly drawn onto a white background waves at him, the words ‘congratulation the stress didnt abolsultly kill u’ written in the Comic Sans font on the inside, making him giggle. Despite the typos and the poor grammar, his heart squeezes on itself, shaking his head at your adorable antics as he shoots you a quick message as a thank you. You’ve been helping him with the studies for the last couple of weeks (if constantly yelling out “you will murder this exam, Sohn’ and laughing at his miserable face counts as support), so it’s even more heartwarming to see his friend still be so supportive of him even after the hell already ended.

@ damnsohn [5:11 PM]: thank u i will now need to receive gold stars for everything tho

And see, he wasn’t really thinking before sending that message. He just needed to convey his gratitude without sounding too overly eager– without sounding too infatuated with your sheer existence and the validation of his efforts. (Failed)

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually follow up on his request. 

To make things even better, you pulled through with physical reminders. The poorly drawn golden star landing into his Instagram DMs was just the start of the habit you fall into with Eric Sohn, the man whose love language is words of affirmation– without him even realizing it. And so, what started out as a wholesome, innocent joke, now turned into a recurring thing that is slowly, but surely making the boy go absolutely insane.

The first time he receives a physical golden star sticker is one day when he comes over to your place to watch a movie with you. You made a list full of iconic films you haven’t seen before– a list you get clowned for at first dates with any man that is pretentious enough to talk about his love for Quentin Tarantino (Eric told you to stop going on dates with the aesthetic, ‘indie’ looking men you find on Tinder) – and little by little, you try to get through it with the help of the rest of your friend group. Since everyone gets bored easily of mediocre films they’ve seen before, Eric is the one that spends the majority of movie nights with you– and that’s only because he’s the only one that doesn’t mind watching the Titanic for the fifth time already, if it means he can spend some time with you.

“You brought popcorn?” you gasp upon his arrival, gazing at the plastic bag in his hold, eyes big and full of stars– one would say you were looking at your first love. You weren’t– it was just a salty treat. Isn’t that every girl’s first love, though?

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Pre-popped?” 

“Pre-popped,” he agrees as he takes off his shoes behind the door, watching as you jump up and down in excitement, taking the big bag out of his hands.

“I like it pre-popped the best, oh my god,” you hum, hugging the huge bag like it’s a teddy bear, going as far as pushing your cheek against it, making your face turn into an adorable pout. “They are a little stale and softer and–”

“And the salt is really settled into it’, yeah, I know, Y/N,” he snickers, finishing the sentence he’s heard you say about a million times already– he starts to wonder if you have short-term memory loss and don’t remember telling him every time you walk by the cinema. (And that’s a lot of times, since Sunwoo’s dad owns the place. Sometimes, Sunwoo makes Eric be his own delivery man– he would deny on most occasions, but ever since he learned that bringing Sunwoo his lunch to work means he can take home a bag of cinema popcorn, the one that admittedly, always tastes the best, he doesn’t complain much– he can use the stale bag as a leverage to make you do about anything.)

“Oh man,” you sigh, “aren’t you a dream. I was going to wait for a more serious occasion, but wait, let me just–” you say, running quickly into your room. Eric doesn’t question your antics, figuring out that he will know the reason for your disappearance soon enough anyway, and allows himself into the living room. Two cans of coca cola and a chocolate bar are already waiting on the coffee table, alongside the TV remote, and while he passes the couch and opens one of your kitchen cabinets to fish for a bowl to put the popcorn in, he hears your socked feet rumble against the floor, announcing your arrival.

Once he takes the big bowl he’s sure he’s seen you puke in before after a wild night out and settles it onto the kitchen counter, the bag of popcorn comes back into his view as you lazily throw it into the white plastic, still closed and sealed, waiting to be opened. As his hands move and go to rip it open, meaning to pour the snack in so you two can share while you watch the next movie on your list– which, just for the record, Eric never asks the title of before, afraid it might make him less excited for the movie night– you put something onto the back of his hand, giggling.

Eric curiously stops his movements, gazing at his own skin. There, shiny and glittery, is a sticker attached to his limb– a yellow star sticker, to be exact, making him look at you with a dumbfounded look, eyebrows furrowed, but lips still sealed into a wide grin.

“That’s a gold star for remembering my favorite snack,” you point, flicking his forehead as a way of swatting him away from you so you can open the bag yourself, “and for bringing it.”

When Eric doesn’t give you any coherent reply– despite his brain operating on a thousand miles per hour, thoughts just swirling around and silencing any rational words– you only laugh at his face, your nose scrunching in that adorable way that makes him want to reach over and squish both of your cheeks in between his fingers, crying out. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so serious about this,” you sigh, snickering. Eric was going to bring up the fact that you were the one serious enough about the sentiment to buy a full roll of star stickers to give him on various occasions, some more serious than others, but he kept his silence in fear of getting this advantage taken away from him. He doesn’t think he’d survive it. “If you manage to not eat the entire bowl before the movie starts, I’ll give you another one. Come on,” you call for him, body already disappearing back into the living room.

Eric follows you like a lost puppy. If he had a tail, at this moment, he would’ve been waggling it. After he drops to the sofa, he notices the movie paused on the TV in front of him to be none other than Dirty dancing. With a sigh, he recognises that he’s seen it about five times already with his mother and sister, and so he spends the hour and a half gazing at the star on his hand instead.

The next few stars he receives are gifts of a similar manner. Half-serious, but still enough to make Eric’s heart leap in his chest at your recognition.

One day, he says a joke in the middle of the conversation that nobody really appreciates. And see, it’s not really unexpected– he was already aware that his friend group doesn’t appreciate good humor– but the dead silence he receives after the lame joke still makes him feel kind of awkward. That’s only until he is greeted with the sound of your muffled chuckle, though– which is of amusement at the situation, and not his joke, just for the record– and the sight of you ruffling around your pockets. You take a roll of stickers out of your jean jacket, and before he knows it, a star sticker is glued onto his phone case, right in the corner of his phone laying screen down on the table. 

“A gold star for trying,” you hum, making the rest of the group holler out a laugh at the casual bullying, “not as bad as last time, keep it up, buddy.”

Eric gets red in his cheeks. When he looks up from the dark wood of the dinner table, he is met with the sight of Sunwoo and Juyeon looking at him with shit-eating grins on his faces, wiggling their eyebrows at the very obvious reaction Eric has at the half-assed praise. The boy wonders if you’re the only one that hasn’t noticed yet, or if you just don’t really care about the effect you have on him. The star sticker stays glued to his phone case at all times, though, even when it’s worn-down and peeling off at the edges.

Another gold star is won from you one day when the semester starts again and you two meet up in the library, working on your respective essays. Each of you major in a different thing, so there is not much actual help shared other than underlying emotional support, and despite the coffee Eric brings you upon his arrival and the bag of chips resting on the table waiting for you to munch on them, which you refuse to touch before you finish a segment of your essay to ‘motivate yourself’, as you say, he can see you’re still a bit stressed out.

The suspicion is only proven to be true when he speaks up suddenly, lost in thought and a little overwhelmed himself. “How do you spell ‘accommodate’?” he asks, scratching the back of his head.

He now admits that it’s a stupid question to ask, but somehow, getting advice from you is much easier than looking it up himself, or simply writing the word down to let Google docs do the editing. The answer you give him is short, sharp, and the tone of your voice stings the boy the tiniest bit. “Are you 5 years old, or something?”

“I–”

“I’m in the middle of writing an important paragraph, Eric, just Google it–”

“Jeez, okay,” he hums, rolling his eyes at your snappy composure. When your eyes meet only two seconds after, you look a little guilty. You say nothing, though, only continuing to focus on your essay– and Eric does the same, for the most part. (While he also tries to take his mind off the fact that you might think he’s a little bit stupid. You are a STEM major, after all– he’s the one studying media.)

After a while of typing away on your computer, though, you look at him with big eyes, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The subtle nerves and desperation in your face are enough to leave the man weak in his knees, and even though he’d like to reply to you in a similar manner to show you his disapproval with your previous tone, he can’t find it in himself to ever reject you as you mumble out a soft: “Switch?” having the man instantly nod, offering you his laptop.

This is standard practice for the two of you. While he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about in your essays– for all he knows, you could be pulling everything out of your ass– he enjoys reading the words you’ve written. You two often work on your essays together and switch from time to time to reread what the other one has so far– on a lookout for wrong word order, grammar, or anything sounding weird. It’s hard to rationally evaluate your work and find flaws in it after spending hours and hours on it, your brain desensitized to the content you’re writing. Having a helping pair of eyes is always for the better.

When the both of you are done and you switch the laptops back, there’s a gold sticker smiling back at him from the device settled right next to the Kirby sticker you’ve given him once after hearing him gushing about the game one night (Yes, he was tipsy and sentimental). He didn’t even notice you putting it on, and when he looks up at you with questioning eyes, you shrug at him, averting eye contact.

“A gold star for spelling ‘accommodate’ right,” you say, making the boy roll his eyes, snickering.

He doesn’t really question you further. Just the star sticker is enough for him now, if he’s being totally honest– even as unserious as they come. Had he pried more, though, maybe he’d find out that the gold star wasn’t just the prize for his spelling– but also for his patience and silent support he’s been sending you every single day. 

And so, the habit preserves itself at first in a joking, half-serious manner. A gold star sticker for him when he reminds you to water your plants (‘for having a good memory’). A gold sticker for him when he carries you home on his back after you get too drunk at the bar with your friends (‘for having strong muscles’). A star sticker for him when he picks you up after work and drives you home (‘for having a cool car’). Another one when he cooks you ramen when you’re sick and don’t have enough energy to make yourself something warm for dinner (‘for being a 5* Michelin cook’). For his birthday, alongside with other things, you give him a strip of the gold star stickers, 5 in a row all next to each other– ‘for bearing the old age well’. He’s not even that much older than you in the first place, but he takes the external validation and praise with open arms, not really dwelling deeper into the sentiment underlying your joking, unserious reasonings. 

He doesn’t really realize the stickers were a sign of gratitude for the fact that he listens to you and remembers what you have to say– not for having a good memory. They are for taking care of you on your lowest– not for having strong arms and a ‘fat ass’. They are a wordless thank you for his acts of service and protection of you, not for having a cool car and getting his driver’s license– although, the pride is the common undertone in some of the gold stars you give him. You give him gold stars on his birthday to tell him you’re proud of the man he’s growing into, not to make fun of him growing old. The boy is just too oblivious to realize it, it seems.

Some days are more difficult than others, though, and that’s when your star stickers gain more value and seriousness. 

The day after he has a family reunion with the distant relatives that always pry too much into his business– ‘Do you have a girlfriend yet?’, ‘What will you end up doing with that useless degree of yours?’, ‘Do you still share a flat with that friend of yours? What about getting your own place?’ – he is met with the sight of you waiting for him after class, on one of the bean bags outside of the lecture room. His department is a solid 20 minute walk away from yours, so the sight of you there surprises him, but the shock is only intensified when you call him over with a wave of your hand and present him with a pack of M&M’s with a gold star stuck to the packaging.

“What’s that for?” he says, but opens the candy nonetheless. After he takes a few into his mouth, he offers you some– to which you shake your head and shrug.

“For being the coolest one out of your family,” you say close to his ear, like it’s a secret, before you ruffle his hair and stand up from the bean bag, strutting towards the exit. “Come on, I have beer over at my place. You can come over and rant about them being stupid, if you want.”

Eric smiles at your sincerity. Trying hard to tame his hair back into place, he follows you with his backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, and even though he’d love to finish the candy you’ve given him, he forces himself to leave at least three pieces inside of the bag, saving it for later– just so he can keep holding on to the star-adorning wrapper for some more.

One day is particularly hard for the boy as he locks himself out of the apartment, having to wait for his roommate Jake to come back from his hometown the other day, leaving him no place to stay– before you invite him over and force him to sleep over on the couch. You can tell there is something more bugging him, though– and so you push the boy for answers.

“What’s up? Locking yourself out is not the end of the world, y’know,” you say, trying to lighten up the situation.

Eric looks at you with tired eyes, shrugging. Truth be told, his mood has been gradually falling over the last couple of days– this incident was just what really tipped him over the edge and nudged him closer to a nervous breakdown. He’s been overwhelmed with work (too many people having high expectations of him that he is scared he cannot meet), with school (too many assignments he is afraid he can’t manage to get done in time) and also with his family constantly being at his neck about everything he does and chooses for his future– only fueling the burning pit of anxiety and insecurity crawling outside of the big hole inside of his chest.

“It’s nothing,” still, he notes. “I’ve just been having a bit of a rough time, really, ‘s all.”

You answer him with a slight pout of your lips, a saddened expression taking over your face. There is sympathy oozing off your presence, and Eric can’t tell if he dislikes it, or yearns too much for your caring words and gentle encouragement. He can’t tell if it’s natural or pathetic, to want, to need your compliments and validation so much– or if he’s just fallen into a hole he can’t crawl back out of, too hungry after every bit of your attention. You’ve completely enchanted the boy, made his heart both soft and erratically running whenever you’re around, and the things he constantly does for you are not only because he wants you to tell him he’s doing well, but also because he wants you to think of him as someone that you can lean on. He wants you to think of him as someone good enough for you. 

Today, though, maybe he just needs a bit of validation. Maybe he just selfishly strives for your encouragement. It’s okay to just want to be loved on from time to time, no?

You coo, taking a seat next to him on the sofa you’ve spent countless movie nights on together, slotted side by side. Eric plays with his fingers in his lap, a heavy cloud hanging over his face. You know your friend isn’t really good at talking about his emotions– something akin to a mental block inside of him preventing him from ever fully opening up– but despite it all, it seems like he’s completely see-through in your eyes, handling you all the unspoken words on a silver platter. You know him too well.

“You’re doing well, Eric. Don’t let the doubts get into your head, yeah?” you hum, meeting eyes with the boy. 

“Am I, though?” 

The face you give him is stern, acting upset with him. “Of course you are! Stop saying that,” you shake your head at him, sighing when he doesn’t comply with your hard love. After a heartbeat of silence, you turn your head away from him and face the turned-off TV, instinctively wrapping your arm around the boy first, tucking him to your side, before you cradle his head and move it so it sits in the crook of your shoulder. 

Patting his hair, ruffling it and gently playing with the strands before you move to scratch on his scalp, the actions all unarm the poor boy. He almost feels like he could cry and fall apart right there in front of you, right there in your hold, but his pride is oftentimes bigger than his need to let it all out– so he just stares ahead of him, teething at his bottom lip in silence.

After a moment, you rustle around your pocket with your free hand, seemingly searching for something. Eric watches you with curious eyes, big eyes reminiscent of ponds of water waiting to overflow when you take out a strip of star stickers from the inside of your sweatpants, gently taking one of them and sticking the golden star onto the fabric of his pants, right on his knee, before patting it affectionately.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice a bit hoarse. He’s glad you don’t mention it.

“Just in general,” you shrug, hand coming back up to play with his hair, “a gold star because I’m proud of you.”

“There’s nothing to be proud of, though..?”

“Of course there is!” you argue, raising your voice at him. He doesn’t make much effort to show you that he agrees or understands your point, so you gently take his hand into yours and wave it around in mock-joy– although you’re kind of serious about the sentiment. “Proud of you, because you’re alive and surviving! Yay!”

Eric snorts. It’s not enough to cure his mood completely, but it warms his heart up enough to make him forget about his tears.

“Do you just carry these on you at all times?” he asks, pointing towards the sticker on his leg.

“You never know when you need them,” you innocently agree. After your continuous doting, the boy finds himself falling asleep on your shoulder. When he wakes up in the morning, there’s a blanket thrown over his body he didn’t see in the room before, and he feels a thousand times better.

So far, Eric’s never asked for the gold star stickers. They always come to him by your initiative– and although he has to admit that sometimes he does stuff for you and expects a reward for it (in the form of the sticker, of course) – he never once begged to receive one himself. Sometimes, you surprise him. Sometimes, it’s obvious there is one coming– like after he helps you send out your psychology survey to every single person he knows (and he knows a lot of them. He is a born extrovert, after all.). 

Much like the day of his football match. 

He’s not really the biggest fan of the sport– he much prefers baseball, but his university no longer has a baseball team and he needs to get additional credit somehow– but when you add up the fact that it makes him popular with the fact that he ends up spending time playing around the field with his friends and over the course of the season gets actually better at the sport the more he practices, it’s not as bad as he expected.

The last match of the season turned out well– with their team winning– and although Eric wasn’t the one in charge of the winning goal (damn Kim Sunwoo and Jake Sim for collectively beating him to the victory), he was still ecstatic about the whole thing. After celebrating with his teammates, dubbing them up and screaming in victory, his eyes scan the crowd to find the rest of his friend group that he knows is there, watching him and Sunwoo play. (In reality, he’s just looking for you– he won’t admit that out loud, though.)

Running up to you with sparkles in his eyes, he watches as you cheer on your other friend, Sunwoo, when he beats him to the bleachers. (Not cool of him, if you ask Eric. His crush is literally right there.)

The taller boy enthusiastically talks about the match– as if you, Jihoon, Ryujin and Jay haven’t been on the bleachers the whole time, watching– and after a while, Eric hears your enthusiastic praise aimed towards his best friend, making his blood turn green in envy.

“Yo, that goal was so good, though!” you gush, patting Sunwoo on the shoulder.

“I know, right? Jake passed the ball to me in the perfect time, that other guy couldn’t even register what was happening,” he boosts, grinning to himself.

All attention is drawn on Kim Sunwoo, and Eric doesn’t like it. Not when it’s your attention we’re talking about. He doesn’t care if the whole university drools over the handsome fire sign (as if he doesn’t have a girlfriend anyway– although Eric is still surprised by the fact, after the way he treated the part-timer at his father’s movie theater in the first few weeks of their acquaintance). Believe me, Eric is completely content standing in the shadow whenever someone gushes about Kim Sunwoo, the star player of the team– until you’re involved, of course.

So, he sulks. And it’s apparent– or at least he thinks so. It doesn’t seem to clock in with any of his friends, though, as they all walk away from the football field, aiming to celebrate together in the cheap restaurant downtown. Eric walks behind the group like a lost puppy, and it takes exactly 5 minutes and 35 seconds (not that he’s counting) for you to finally notice the absence of his lame jokes and loud comments to just about everything.

“What’s up?” you ask when you trail behind the group to join his side, laughing at the pout on his face. “You look like you just lost the match. Which you didn’t. Not sure if you caught that…” you joke, bumping your hips with him.

“Well, you seem to be acting like it,” he comments, his words leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Huh?” you ask, genuine confusion tinting your expression. “We’re literally going to celebrate, I don’t get what you– is this because you want that stupid star sticker?” you cut yourself off mid-sentence, the boy already too readable to you after so much time.

Eric gasps in shock. He’s not really sure what he wanted out of mentioning it so openly to you, but to be called out like this surely wasn’t on the list. He feels heat rising to his cheeks with lightning speed, his eyes averting your gaze in the instant. Maybe the voices inside of his head were right. Maybe he is embarrassing.

“Well,” he shrugs, only digging the hole under himself deeper, “did I not do well too?” he mutters under his breath, the humiliation fully settling into his bones after you laugh straight at his face.

“Wow…” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “If I knew I was fueling your praise kink this much with the stickers, I would’ve stopped a long time ago–”

“I don’t have a praise kink–” he screams, battling you as you suddenly scramble after him with the sticker on your finger, waiting to be plastered somewhere onto his figure. He’s sure the whole commotion heard his poor attempt at defending himself, but he’s not willing to back down without a fight– anything to prove that he doesn’t depend on the stickers as much as one would think. He doesn’t want the sticker anymore. He doesn’t need it.

As you fight him and womanhandle him on the street, though, hands all over him, trying to get close as he desperately tries to push you away and fight the allegations, he finds himself unarmed when you get in close proximity of his body, pushing him against the wall. He’s sure he has more muscle power than you do, but the mental power in him is lacking– he just can’t make himself push you away from him. Your face is close to his, your breathing tickling his nose. His heart is stammering hard against his chest, your hands still clutching his wrists against the wall, making him feel like a horny teenager. His breathing is heavy– he doesn’t think he’s done much physical labor, though?

Before he has a chance to collect himself and physically unglue his eyes off your lips– glossy and pink, inviting him in– you make the boy’s brain short circuit even further when you lean close to his ear, whispering so no one else can hear.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, by the way.”

You know just which buttons to push. Maybe you’re a bit sadistic– with how knowledgeable you are of his feelings, but of how much you’re enjoying him being completely oblivious to the fact that you’re aware. You have him at your mercy, all yours to keep, his heart all yours to play with and scan in the palm of your hands.

A star sticker is pressed into the skin below his ear, right at the pulse point. With that, you unstick yourself from the boy, running back to the rest of the group. It takes Eric a moment to collect himself enough to rejoin his friends– so much he has to run (which is good, in hindsight– at least he has something to blame for his breathlessness)– but after this, he swears he’s never asking for validation from you ever again.

It’s too dangerous.

Almost as dangerous as you trying to ride his skateboard for the first time, it seems. He’s met with the fact only two weeks after the football match. When you texted him and convinced him you’re going to be fine and that he should definitely bring the board with him when you hang out later in the day– ‘I’m not a five year old, I can handle it! I bet it’s going to be fun!’ – he didn’t really expect you to be this bad at it. You seemed a little too confident for him to believe otherwise, and, well, in Eric’s eyes, you are perfect at just about everything. 

This really shattered the image of you he had in his mind. Not in a bad way, no– the man has and always will worship the sheer ground you walk on– it’s just that more than admiration, the feeling flowing through his veins right now seems to be adoration. Eric always admired your every move, every single sentence that ever came out of your mouth. But now, he just can’t seem to contain himself as he watches you stumble over your own feet and try to balance yourself on the unmoving skateboard in the middle of the empty park, hands waving around your figure in a desperate need to not fall over and break your neck. (Which would never happen under Eric’s watch anyway. His reflexes are fast.)

“You look like a baby learning how to walk for the first time,” he gushes from the bench, your bags waiting at his feet. A wide grin is plastered onto his face as he watches you, his cheeks beginning to hurt from the constant stretch of the muscles.

“Very funny,” you sigh, stumbling over once again, making the board move with the kinetic motion of you stepping off of it, leaving Eric to stop it with his outstretched leg.

“You were so confident before,” he shakes his head, mocking you.

“Well, I tend to overestimate my abilities sometimes,” you shrug, a pout slowly appearing on your face as you move closer towards the male, obviously going to sit at the bench next to him. “It’s whatever, I don’t feel like skateboarding anymore–”

“You’re giving up already?” 

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he shakes his head, standing up and offering you his hand to take so he can bring you back up to your feet, “never back down, never what?”

“Eric, I’m not going to finish your TikTok references right now–”

“I said never back down never what?!” he hollers, forcefully tugging you to a standing position, the sigh escaping your lips only fueling him further with his ridiculous antics. “Never give up! That’s right, Y/N, very well. Now, let me help you, I promise it’s not as hard as it seems.”

“I mean, given the fact that even you can do it–”

Eric flashes you a stone cold look as a warning. He doesn’t really think the teasing is at place right now– you’re the one not capable of keeping balance on the skateboard. It’s not like you have any right to joke right now.

“Okay, I take it back.”

“Leave the jokes for when your legs don’t look like a freshy born horse’s with how much they’re shaking when you’re up on this thing, yeah?” he chuckles, hearing you snort out a laugh at the accuracy of his comment.

Eric should’ve known he was the one miscalculating his abilities to efficiently teach you how to skateboard before the act itself happened. He didn’t, though, and the thought only occurred to him the moment you started latching onto him like a koala to its favorite tree– all just so you could hold balance on the board beneath your feet.

Your legs are a little shaky– and so are Eric’s hands when they instinctively land on your waist as you latch onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. The boy is painfully aware of the layers of clothing preventing him from touching your bare skin, yet, his fingertips still tingle as they bear into your midriff, holding you steady and preventing you from falling.

“Now, this isn’t so hard,” you conclude, chuckling. Eric doesn’t find it in himself to look up at your face, knowing he’d go painfully red the second your eyes would meet. The close proximity of your body still makes him shy sometimes, despite the years of friendship you share, and so he keeps his gaze glued to the ground instead, clearing his throat before he speaks up again, trying to seem nonchalant and casual.

“I’ll move now, yeah?”

Without really waiting for your reply, his feet shift their position on the ground, dragging you across the road with him. Gentle steps at first, making sure you’re not too overwhelmed, then picking up speed so you move a little faster on the board. “Will you be okay if I let go?”

“I don’t know..? Hopefully…?” you say, voice wavering a little, nerves seeping through your tone.

“I’ll catch you if you fall, don’t worry,” he hums, feeling how you squeeze his shoulders for one last time before he lets go of your waist, watching the way you slide away on the skateboard. The pace isn’t too fast, yet, it’s still enough to make you grin widely at the boy, your body now used to the feeling, balance finally finding its way to you. 

“Do you want me to push you around for a bit?” he offers, relishing in the way you nod eagerly at him, the grin on your face making his heart squeeze on itself. If he could carve the muscle out of his chest and offer it to you, he would. In his eyes, you deserve everything in this world– how could he not just try and give it to you, little by little, all by himself?

Light steps nearing your figure, he gently pushes you in the back, watching as you slide farther and farther away from him. Every time he gently nudges you in the right direction, he earns himself a hearty giggle from you, the motion making you feel free and reckless– just like teenagers do when discovering the activity for the first time. “I was right! It’s fun!”

Eric can feel himself relishing in the moment fully. Your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he wishes he could engrave the sight of it into his memory forever. He knows that’s not possible, though, and so he pledges to try his hardest to make it appear on your face so much and so often that he has no chance to forget how it looks.

After you’re done and exhausted with the day, Eric makes it his quest to get you home safely before heading to his place. You complain about your feet hurting, and although the boy is doubtful of your whining, he still offers to drag you home as you stand on the skateboard, holding your hand the whole way. When he’s almost at your apartment complex, he feels the familiar star sticker glued to the back of his hand before you intertwine your fingers with his, running a thumb proudly over the gold plastic.

“A gold star for being a good teacher,” you note when your eyes meet, making the boy chuckle.

“Shouldn’t I be giving you one for being a good student? Is that not how things usually work?” 

“I give credit where credit is due,” you hum, nodding to yourself. “Besides, that’s not only for that. I just…” you trail off, as if too nervous to say the next words. “I just wanted to show gratitude to you, ‘cause I had a really good time today,” you say nonchalantly, still, shrugging. Eric feels his stomach churning. How can you be so casual with saying words that make his heart skip a beat?

“I should show my gratitude to you more often too, y’know.”

You shake your head at him, laughing like it’s funny. “Oh, Eric. You do it so often you don’t even realize it. You just have a different way of showing it than I do.”

Eric averts his gaze from you, chewing on his bottom lip in nervousness. He starts to wonder if he’s been too obvious with his feelings. Do you see him differently now?

The questions almost drown him out on the way towards your house. Somewhere along the way, he realizes the act of holding your hand feels natural to him now. Gazing at your interlocked fingers, he smiles to himself. He could get used to it– all of it.

He could get used to the people smiling at him and you on the street when they see you with fingers interlocked. He could get used to holding your hand every day, keeping you close. He could get used to your touches, hugs and skinship. He could get used to waking up to you in the same apartment as him, like that one time he locked himself out and you let him sleep over at your place. And to a certain extent, he already has gotten used to you– all of you. 

He’s used to texting you every day. He’s used to seeing you multiple times a week– because if he doesn’t, he misses you a little too much. He’s used to your movie nights and dancing with you in bars, shielding you from the looks of other greedy men wanting to get a piece of you. He’s used to the gold stickers you constantly provide him with as a gentle reminder of the unsaid feelings shared between the two of you. He’s used to your presence and your energy, he’s used to your teasing words and the memes you send in his Instagram DMs. If you were suddenly removed out of his life, he knows he’ll find it hard. It would feel like a piece of him was missing.

Some days, he tries to make himself believe that he’s content with what you two have right now. And he is, for the most part– but deep down, he knows he wants more. He always wanted something a bit more.

It shines through his actions on most days. It’s visible to everyone– the longing looks, the gentle touches. Jake once said Eric would jump out of a window if you asked him to, and after careful consideration, the boy had to shamefully agree with his roommate. Eric gets laughed at every time his cheeks blush when you give him too much special attention. He’s used to being called the ‘lover boy’ whenever you’re around. 

In front of you, he tries to hide his feelings as much as possible, though.

Sometimes, it slips out of him, though. In moments where the day slowly comes to its end and the atmosphere turns more tender. On days when the movie nights get moved to his apartment, because it’s closer to your university and you claim you’re too tired to walk all the way back to your place. Eric claims you’re just lazy, but the pout on your face tells him otherwise. 

On days when there is no one else in the apartment, just you two, and your conversation dies down. The boy is usually a chatterbox when it comes to watching movies with you– commenting on every single scene, making fun of the characters, teasingly spoiling bits and chunks of the plot for you– but it was a Friday night and you were snuggled up in your favorite hoodie, your bodies stuck tightly to each other on the sofa. There is a cloud of comfort, a huge curtain of intimacy falling over you two, and Eric is afraid that speaking up would ruin the sentiment. 

After a few minutes, he feels your head lay on his shoulder. The crown of your head is instantly more interesting than the movie playing on the TV, his eyes glossing over your relaxed expression. There is hair falling into your face and your eyelashes are kissing your cheekbones, your brain no longer focusing on the movie, but slowly dozing off instead. Eric mentally coos– it’s not often you fall asleep next to him, and so he somehow finds himself treasuring the moment. You look so peaceful, so beautiful– yet so unaware of it. His heart squeezes with tenderness, making sink a little into the sofa cushions so you’re more comfortable in using him as your head rest. He knows waking you up or moving you so you’re resting against the back of the sofa would be more convenient for your neck, but he selfishly relishes in the fact that you found comfort in the crook of his shoulder instead.

He can’t help but smile widely at your composure. You look small and vulnerable. You look like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Eric indulges in the fact that he’s not watched right now, letting himself fully enjoy and admire your sheer existence. 

He acts on impulse when his lips softly land onto your forehead. Not much thought goes into the sentiment– he just sheerly answered his heart’s calling. 

You look dreamy. You look lovely. He’s in love with you, he thinks.

He lets himself settle deeper into the couch cushions. After no longer having to entertain you with his comments on the movie he’s seen 4 times already– The matrix– he finds himself bored enough of the familiar plot to doze off himself, forgetting about the promise he made to you to drive you home after the movie is over. 

He sleeps through your smile and the shake of your head, as well as you detaching your head off his shoulder, smiling at the unaware boy. Not yet asleep– just resting your eyes for a bit– you were a witness of the boy’s tender, loving ministrations. You disappear out of the apartment after the movie is over, crossing paths with Jake in the entrance hall giving you a quiet wave and a point towards his roommate sitting on the sofa, a gold star adorning the tip of his nose.

You just shrug before leaving. Jake just shakes his head at both of you, wondering when your time will finally come. Eric wakes up in the middle of the night to the TV off, asking himself if he should consider the sticker a silent invitation.

And after a while of careful consideration– laying awake and wondering of all the what-ifs, replaying every moment spent with you over and over in his mind, looking for the very obvious signs of reciprocation– he decides to just go for it. He decides to be the brave man he claims he is, and finally makes the first step.

Well, at least tries to. Because as it turns out, it’s much more difficult to invite someone out on a date if you’re already friends with them for a prolonged amount of time. Not only is it more nerve-wrecking, but also much more confusing to the other party– and after inviting you out to get boba in the new place downtown, he’s not so sure you are aware that you’re on a date with him. 

Not that Eric expected anything to change between the two of you instantly after going on a date– no, he’s completely fine with the dynamic you two have, and it’s one of the things he values the most about your friendship– he just thought the atmosphere would be… a little different.

Which is why he decides to start dropping not so subtle hints about his intentions. Brave, isn’t he?

First of all, he pays for your order. All after the 20 minutes you take standing outside of the boba store searching through the menu to find out what you’re going to get– and although Eric finds it endearing, he is also starting to get a little nervous.

“Didn’t know you were so indecisive,” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m not!” you grunt, shaking your head at your own antics. “I just don’t know what tastes good together. Should I just get one of the premade drinks on the menu? But I’m not really in the mood for any of these–”

“I’ll just get you a random one,” he sighs, “and you will have no other choice than to drink it.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then at least you have someone to blame,” he snickers, pushing the glass door open and entering the quiet boba store. He orders you a kiwi bubble tea with strawberry popping pearls– because he knows you enjoy how they come apart in your mouth– and after he comes outside with both of the drinks in either of his hands, he waves you off when you ask him how much yours was so you can pay him back.

“It’s on me,” he hums.

An over-exaggerated sigh escapes your mouth at that. “You’re paying? You never pay,” you exclaim and take the straw in between your lips, ready to taste the drink. You and Eric both know that what you said is a lie– he has no issue with paying for you, and he brings you random treats all the time– but for the sake of the next line, he decides to go along with it.

“Well, today is a different occasion, I guess,” he shrugs.

With that, you stop and stare at him with stars in your eyes, a teasing smile slowly overtaking your lips. You’re not stupid– you’re not oblivious the way he is– and so Eric thinks you finally got the hint. Or, at least he hopes so. “Is it?”

Suddenly too shy under your gaze, cheeks tinting light pink, the boy averts his gaze from you and walks down the street, expecting you to follow him. He might be brave enough to drop hints, but still not brave enough to admit to it explicitly.

Not when he drags you to the park and sits with you on the bench, people watching. Not when he casually drops his arm on the back of the bench behind you, gluing himself particularly close to your body. Not when he lets you try his drink, battling away the annoying voice inside of his head telling him that you just shared an indirect kiss. (‘Come on, Eric. You’re not a teenager anymore. Get it together.’)

He doesn’t admit to it in words, but he sure does in actions when he gives you his jacket when the evening gets chilly. He swears you look the most adorable in his red windbreaker, and in a moment of weakness, he puts his arm around your shoulders as you walk down the street, a selfish need of having you close to him winning above everything else.

“And what was so different about today, Eric?” you ask on the way to your apartment, gazing up at the beaming boy next to you. Are you teasing him again? Do you enjoy watching his misery?

Eric figures it’s for the best to tell you, though. He thinks it’s important to set the tone– because after today, it’s almost like nothing changed at all. The dynamic stays the same– and while he doesn’t think he hates it, he admits he’d just rather call you his.

So, despite the embarrassment, he chews on the bottom of his lip. You’re almost at your place already, and so he thinks it won’t hurt to talk about it now. If things go wrong, you can just go home and he can run to his apartment and violently cry into his pillow. 

“Well, I was thinking…” he starts, clearing his throat to buy himself some time and also trying to bite down the excessive nerves clawing at him from the inside, “I… you… I was hoping this wasn’t just like… a regular day out, you know…?”

Blinking at him a few times– because you must love to torture him, there is no other explanation– you shake you head at him. “No, Eric. I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Eric physically tears himself off you, your apartment complex now directly in front of him. Cracking his knuckles and taking a deep breath in to calm himself, he tries again. “I meant to… invite you out on a date today,” he proposes simply.

And in that moment, it’s like the whole world stops turning for a minute. Not only do you not give him any verbal answer, but your expression also stays the same as before– completely stoic and neutral, giving him no window into the way you feel about his suggestion. And you know what they say about Eric Sohn– he talks too much. Not only in situations where it’s inappropriate, but also in moments where he feels like there is nothing better to do than to fill the suffocating void that is the silence hanging over him– much like right now.

Eric rambles. “And- and I know I should’ve said that before making you go with me, but god, you don’t know how hard it is to make it clear to you that I’m trying to be more than friends with you without sounding absolutely fucking awkward!” he sighs, wetting his dry, chapped lips. 

“And I’m sorry if this changes your view of me, or something, but trust me, our friendship means to me so much more than just trying to make you date me, that was never my intention behind things, I do everything out of care for you, because you’re– you’re just everything to me–”

After the last line, he hears you chuckle. Your eyes finally meet, and he feels like he wants a car to run him over approximately 15 times to make sure all his bones are broken and his skull is smashed into pieces– he’s sure it would be more comfortable than the situation he put himself in right now.

“That was so cheesy,” you say, Eric’s stomach making a flip that might as well force acid up his throat. He won’t throw up, he won’t throw up, he won’t embarrass himself even more–

His hands shake. Suddenly, you take them into yours. 

He watches you carefully, ready to be let down. You step closer to him– surely, you’re going to give him a comforting hug as you tell him he read all the signs wrong and you don’t feel the same– before you lean into him, face inches away from his. Blinking, Eric suddenly registers your lips locking with his for a mere second, a soft, sweet caress of your mouth on his not giving him a chance to react– a chance to reciprocate– before you pull away, making him freeze.

“You always make things more complicated than they need to be,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Uh…” he lets out, like he lost all the words in his vocabulary. It’s the first time Eric Sohn has nothing to say– and it feels like a miracle. In reality, he’s taken aback and still processing.

The sight of him like this only makes you grin wider. It’s no question that you find him adorable like this, so bashful and surprised, cheeks turning red and lips slightly ajar, big eyes staring into yours. “Cat got your tongue?” you tease, letting go off his hands and placing your palms onto his cheeks instead, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. His brain might be blank right now, but his orbs still hold so many emotions– ones that make you soften and cave in on yourself, overflowing with tenderness. Hands automatically resting on your waist, Eric holds you close to his chest.

“Put your mouth to use in a different way, then,” you joke, watching the boy in front of you go into factory reset.

Lips crashing against yours, the boy kisses you like you’re his lifeline. Chasing after you, he puts all the words he’s said before and the ones he keeps hidden inside for now into the action, having you melt in his hold. He feels your breathing on his face, making him deeply aware of every detail, of every miniscule shift of your figure, every tiniest movement of your lips and the almost inaudible sound you let out when his teeth tug on your bottom lip as he pulls away for air, being a little overly-excited.

Foreheads resting together, the two of you in your own little bubble no one gets to peer into even on the busy street, Eric watches as you look down and take something out of your pocket– something he so deeply recognises, making his heart thump a thousand miles an hour, if it wasn’t already.

Another kiss is given to his lips– for good measure– before you press another one to the tip of his nose and one more peck into the middle of his forehead, making his legs feel like jelly. You follow your lips with the star sticker attached to your thumb, sticking it to your lover’s skin. 

“That’s a gold star for being adorable,” you say, making him roll his eyes. “And for the nice date.”

“Don’t I get one for being a good kisser too?” he pries, watching as you scoff at his prideful question.

“I don’t know, Sohn,” you shrug, “I’m not sure yet, but I could be convinced–”

He cuts you off by locking your lips again, ready to prove you of his abilities. With the gold sticker proudly glimmering on his forehead, he realizes that maybe you were right– and all along, it has always been this simple.

[mononijikayu]

last christmas — gojo satoru and geto suguru

"Don’t make me regret this, Satoru." you mumble, your face warm. “We’re gonna have fun, but in a way we all would enjoy, okay?” “Hm, as you say, senpai!” He replies, still heavily enthusiastic. Suguru, still lying on the other side of the air mattress, lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Great. Now we’re all going, aren’t we?" "Obviously, Suguboo!" Satoru replies, his grin widening as he hops off your side. "I mean, what’s a theme park trip without all my best friends?" “Hey, don’t call me Suguboo.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, angst, fluff, humor, comfort, anxiety, lgbtqia+, friendship, found family, conflicted feelings, break up, noted romantic attraction, flashback, loss, light hearted, hurt/comfort, hurt, physical touch, mentioned character death, trauma, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, pining, sleep over, theme park, overworking, burnt out, nightmares, mentioned character deaths, mentioned trauma, this is the theme park episode folks;

WORD COUNT: 17k words

NOTE: i wanted to continue the past pov between satoru and suguru and this came to mind. i think there will be more on their holidays together but i liked this a lot because i think they'll have this sort of healthy dynamic when it came to their work before hidden inventory. anyway, i hope you enjoy it. happy holidays!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

us and them

if you want to, tip! <3

THERE HASN’T BEEN A DAY WHEN YOU WEREN’T CALLED INTO A PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE. But that was to be expected. In the line of work you have endured as a sorcerer since a child has made you too used to the situation.

But you felt something different when you entered the Yaga Masamichi’s office this time around. No, everything about this moment was different. Was it the fact that fall was ending and that winter was coming? Or was it his awful cologne choice? Perhaps you will never know. 

“You’re being given leave for the holidays.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not going to receive any winter missions.”

“Are you fucking around with me?”

The air in Yaga Masamichi’s office feels thick, heavy with the tension of your argument. You stand in front of his desk, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your frustration barely contained. Yaga, however, looks entirely unfazed as he reclines in his chair, his large frame a picture of unyielding authority.

"You’ve never taken a day off as a sorcerer. And you never ask for it. It’s high time you were given time off." he says again, voice calm but resolute, like he’s speaking to a stubborn child. "You’re not getting another mission right now. That’s final. The higher ups approved it."

You grit your teeth, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "I don’t need a day off. Do you even hear yourself? Sitting around doing nothing isn’t going to help anyone. Do you know how many grade one sorcerers and grade two sorcerers are going to be dealing with all the cases I don’t do? They need me out there, Yaga!" 

Your voice rises with every word, the sheer unfairness of the situation gnawing at your composure. But Yaga doesn’t budge. His dark eyes remain steady, rooted, as if absorbing your outburst without so much as a ripple.

"What they need right now," he replies evenly, determination heavy in his eyes. "is a sorcerer who can stay on their feet. You’re overworked, and you know it. I’ve let it slide long enough, but this stops here."

"You don’t get it—" you start, but he raises a hand, cutting you off mid-sentence.

"No, you don’t get it, do you?" he interrupts, his voice dropping into a firmer register that makes you flinch, just slightly. "I’ve seen too many sorcerers burn themselves out thinking they can handle everything. They push and push, and then one day, they can’t anymore. I’m not about to let you be one of them."

You shake your head vehemently. "I’m not like the others. I can handle this. I have been handling this!"

"And that’s exactly why you need to stop right now." he counters, leaning forward slightly, his tone softening just a fraction. "You may not want to hear this, but you’re not invincible. Everyone has a limit, and you’re closer to yours than you think. Take a step back before it’s too late."

You glare at him, desperation bubbling up alongside your anger. You refuse to accept this—there has to be another way. "Gakuganji would give me the mission, you know?" you mutter, your voice sharp and petulant.

Yaga snorts, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement if the situation weren’t so serious. "I’m not Gakuganji." he says bluntly. "And thank the gods for that."

His words strike a nerve, and you spin around to face him fully, your fists clenched at your sides. "Why are you doing this? You’re supposed to support us—support me! How am I supposed to just sit around and do nothing while curses are out there hurting people?"

"Because I care about you." Yaga replies simply. His gaze softens slightly, but the steel in his voice remains. "And whether you believe it or not, I care about you. You may not understand that, I know. But you can’t destroy yourself like this. You’re a good sorcerer, but you need to learn to take care of yourself first.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unrelenting. You look away, your jaw tight, frustration still burning in your chest. But there’s no arguing with him now. His mind is made up, and deep down, you know he’s right. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“And I imagine that you’re father would want—”

"Fine, fine." you mutter begrudgingly, stuffing your hands into your pockets. "But don’t come crying to me when someone screws up the mission I could’ve handled."

Yaga exhales through his nose, a sound that’s almost—but not quite—a laugh. "I’ll take my chances with that gamble." he says, turning back to the stack of paperwork on his desk.

As you storm out of his office, shaking your head in disappointment, you could only find yourself in the silence. You couldn’t help but slam the door as hard as you could behind you, summarizing his parting words linger in your mind: Take the time off. That’s an order.

And for the first time in a long while, you’re left with nothing to do but obey. You cursed under your breath, looking at the sunset filled sky. You hated this. Now you’ll be stuck remembering those bright beaming fireworks, those annoyingly loud sing along carols and most of all, the falling snow as she said goodbye.

══════════════════

OF COURSE, YOU HAVEN’T CALMED DOWN. But there was nothing you could do about it. You had to start thinking about something to do. Or maybe try to argue about this.

You haven’t really thought about it concretely yet. But you had to do something, you just had to. A soft sigh left your lips. You really should have brought cigarettes with you.

The vending machine hums softly as you press the button, a can of something fizzy clattering into the slot below. You grab it, sit down heavily on the nearby bench, and crack it open with a sigh.

The sunset paints the sky in hues of orange and purple, but it does little to brighten your mood. You’re sulking, and you know it, but right now, you don’t care.

All of the known Kyoto missions you had your eye on—all of them—had been reassigned. Even the dangerous ones, the ones you knew you could handle. And what stings the most? Even the Special Grade missions had gone to others, like they were prizes you weren’t worthy of claiming or having whatsoever. 

You know you shouldn’t sulk but you couldn’t help it. Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru, of course, had gotten their fair share. And they deserve it. They get the job done well enough, for second years. It’s not that you didn’t think they deserved it. They do.

But you were their senior. And you were older. Aren’t you supposed to be doing more, so they won’t have to? You had more experience than them in this field. You were a special grade sorcerer too. Why did you have to be treated differently than them? Weren’t you doing so well? Weren’t you enough?

You liked working, it’s why you haven’t stopped since you were younger. But you also don’t want to think about what the winter holidays were going to be like. You don’t want it to be stagnant. You don’t want to sit around and think. You don’t. You don’t even want to think about the prospect of having to go back to Zenin Manor for the holidays. 

If your schedule isn’t full, that old geezer is going to force you to attend the banquet. You wouldn't have an excuse. And knowing that, they’ll end up forcing you into a man and you don’t want to get married. Not just yet. You don’t want to end up marrying this winter. You bit your lip shakily in anger. 

“Ugh, why did this have to happen right now?” You whisper to yourself, kicking the stone wall. “This is so stupid!”

“Hey, senpai! Don’t kick the stone wall like that. It did nothing to you.”

You stopped, feeling your eyes narrow. The crunch of footsteps on gravel catches your attention as much as the voice did.  You glance up to see none other than the pair themselves. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were going towards you, strolling back into campus.

They’re still in their mission gear, looking far too relaxed for two people who’ve just returned from exorcising curses. Geto has a quiet, composed expression as usual, his long hair tied neatly back. Gojo, on the other hand, is grinning like he’s just been handed the keys to the world.

The moment Gojo Satoru spots you even closer, his grin widens. Your eyes narrow enough at him that it looks like you were glaring at him. You were still too sulky. And now that you were running out of sugar, you were getting cranky too. You ought to drink your drink soon.

"Well, well, well, Suguru." Satoru says, nudging Suguru with his elbow and wearing that ever-present smirk. "Look who we have here, moping by the vending machines. Did Yaga–sensei finally ban you from missions, senpai?"

You glare at him over the rim of your can, letting the cold metal press against your lips but refusing to dignify his teasing with a response. The hiss of carbonation cuts through the silence as you crack open the soda with a force that sends foam fizzing up brutishly.

Satoru blinks at you, then shifts his gaze to Suguru, who seems to pick up on the same thing. A rare flicker of actual concern crosses his face.

“Wait, are you actually serious, senpai?” Gojo’s voice loses some of its usual playfulness. “Did he really?”

Suguru sighs, glancing at you with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Hey, don’t be too insensitive. Senpai looks upset.”

Satoru tilts his head, still watching you carefully. For a moment, there’s no teasing, just quiet curiosity, as if he’s waiting for you to break the silence and explain. But you didn’t speak just yet. Instead, you opted to drink the carbonated drink for a little bit. They just let you drink it and watched as you put it down. 

Suguru, ever the perceptive one, raises an eyebrow as he approaches. "Something wrong, senpai?" His tone is even, but there’s a flicker of genuine concern in his gaze.

"Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry about me." you mutter, though the tension in your voice betrays your words. 

You take a long sip of your drink, letting the fizzy sweetness settle on your tongue before sighing and lowering yourself onto one of the cold metal benches. The bench creaks slightly under your weight, the chill biting through your clothes, but you barely register it.

"Just... no missions for me for a while." you say, the words coming out slower this time, like you’re forcing yourself to say them. "Yaga’s decided I need to take a break for the winter." You pause, glancing down at the soda can in your hands, the logo on it blurry from condensation.

"He didn’t even ask me about it. That’s what I feel bitter about." you continue, a wry, humorless smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "He filed a leave on my behalf with the higher-ups. Said it was for my own good. And... well, it’s been accepted."

You huff out a short laugh, but it’s devoid of mirth. "Can you believe that? A forced vacation. Like I’m some kind of liability."

The words linger in the crisp air, heavy and bitter. For a moment, neither Satoru nor Suguru speaks, their usual banter replaced with an uneasy silence. Even Satoru’s trademark smirk falters slightly, his bright eyes narrowing in rare seriousness as he processes what you just said. Suguru crosses his arms, his expression softening as he looks at you.

"That... doesn’t sound like Yaga–sensei at all." Suguru says quietly, his tone laced with concern. "There’s gotta be more to it than that."

Satoru tilts his head, studying you carefully. "He’s probably just worried about you, senpai. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately."

You shrug, unwilling to acknowledge their words. Instead, you take another sip of your drink, letting the cold fizz distract you from the frustration simmering in your chest. “I suppose. But I would have liked to have a conversation about that. Maybe I’ll consider it.”

Liar. You thought to yourself for a moment. You never would have considered it. That’s why you take breaks, you foolish liar.

Suguru takes a seat on your other side, his presence calm and steady, like an anchor in the swirling storm of your thoughts. "He’s probably just looking out for you, senpai. Yaga-sensei’s strict about things, sure. But he’s not unfair. Maybe he’s seen something we haven’t."

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck as frustration ripples through you. "I don’t think I stick around long enough for him to notice anything about me."

"It’s probably because you’re always out in the field, senpai." Satoru chimes in, his voice lighter now as he presses a button on the vending machine with exaggerated care. "I think he notices that."

The quiet sincerity in his words catches you off guard, and for a moment, you blink at him, then at the can in your hand. "Possibly." you murmur, though your tone is uncertain.

Suguru smiles gently, a knowing look in his eyes. "Still, I get it. Sitting out isn’t easy when you’re used to being in the thick of it all the time, senpai."

You nod slowly, letting his words sink in. "It’s not just that." you admit, the bitterness in your voice softening. "It’s like... if I’m not out there, if I’m not doing something, I don’t know what to do with myself. It feels... wrong, like I’m slacking off or abandoning my responsibilities."

And I don’t wanna think about her. You want to say. I don’t want to go home either. I don’t want to suffer being alone.

Satoru pops open his own drink, taking a swig before glancing back at you. "That’s not slacking, senpai." he says, his tone uncharacteristically even. "Taking a break isn’t quitting. Yaga–sensei wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think it was important."

Suguru nods in agreement. "He’s not punishing you. He’s trying to make sure you’re okay. Sometimes, even the strongest of us need to step back and breathe for a bit."

Their words hang in the air, soft but unwavering, and for the first time in a while, you feel the tight knot of frustration in your chest begin to loosen—just a little. You sigh, slumping further down on the bench. You groaned.

"Kyoto missions are being handed out like candy. Even the Special Grade ones! And guess who’s getting them? The two of you."

Suguru snickered. “I doubt that it’s something enjoyable as eating candy, senpai.”

"Meanwhile, I’m stuck here with nothing to do but wait." You were pouting at this point.

Satoru snickers, leaning back. "Jealous, are we? Don’t worry, senpai.  I’ll bring you a souvenir from my next mission. Maybe a curse sword or something. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’s about to be Christmas anyway—"

"Satoru." Suguru says warningly, giving him a pointed look.

"What?" Satoru shrugs, still grinning as he holds his drink close. "I’m just trying to cheer senpai up, Satoru."

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I don’t need cheering up. I need to be useful."

Suguru leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now. "You are useful. Missions come and go, but pushing yourself too hard won’t make things better. Yaga–sensei’s just giving you some breathing room. It doesn’t mean you’re being left behind."

"Yeah, senpai." Satoru chimes in, his tone surprisingly genuine this time. "Don’t take it too personally. Even I need a break sometimes. Well, not really, but you get the idea."

You glance between them, your frustration still simmering, but their words start to sink in, just a little. Maybe they’re right—maybe this isn’t the end of the world. But for now, you still can’t shake the sting of being benched. You shake your head.

"Whatever." you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. "Just don’t rub it in."

Satoru smirks, nudging your shoulder. "No promises."

Suguru sighs, shaking his head. "Let’s just get you off this bench before you start growing roots. Come on—we’ll grab some food. Satoru’s treat."

You raised a brow as you looked at Satoru. “Oh? You’re opening your wallet?”

“If that would make our amazing beloved senpai stop sulking, the Gojo Satoru infinite wallet will appear.” Satoru says, pulling out his wallet with a maniacal laugh. “You can order as much as you can, senpai. I’ll pay for it. Just smile, okay?”

You looked at him for a moment before you ended up laughing. You finally nodded at them. Satoru pumps his arm out as he says yes. Suguru shakes his head at Satoru’s antics, but smiles. Reluctantly, you let them pull you to your feet. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem. Maybe.

Before long, the three of you walk toward a nearby ramen restaurant, the sounds of crickets beginning to fill the evening air. Satoru stretches his arms lazily behind his head, his glasses pushed up just enough to reveal the playful glint in his eyes. Suguru walks beside you, his steady presence a contrast to Satoru’s boundless energy.

“Where’s Shoko?” You asked, turning to Suguru. “I thought she would be with you two.”

“She’s stuck with the Reversed Curse Technique sensei.” Suguru says, his hands resting in his pockets. “Apparently she couldn’t get it right on a leg, so the sensei’s making her do it again.”

“Huh, I would have thought she would have gotten it right by now.” You furrowed your brows. “I sent her the scrolls on it.”

“Probably just some sensei trying to make it harder on Sho.” Satoru says, looking at you. “I mean, wasn’t it that way with our hand to hand combat sensei last year?”

“I didn’t like that guy.” Suguru admitted, shaking his head. “He wasn’t at all considerate of Shoko and made her suffer.”

“If he wasn’t a vassal of the Zenin, he wouldn’t have a job here anymore.” You retorted to the two of them. “He was also bad when he taught us.”

Suguru looked at you. “Hehhhh, so he taught you too, senpai.”

“Well, yes. But we didn’t learn much from him.”

"So, senpai." Satoru says, breaking the conversation away. "If you're not doing missions, what are you doing? Sitting around moping by vending machines? Because, honestly, it’s not a great look for you."

You roll your eyes back at him. "I’ll be training. I’ll be visiting my mother at her shrine. I need to  keep my edge. And I don’t want to be stuck at home. What’s the point if I’m not putting it to use? It’s not like curses are going to exorcise themselves."

Suguru hums thoughtfully. "Training’s not a bad way to spend your time. Besides, if Yaga–sensei’s forcing you to take a break, you might as well use it to focus on something else. A new technique, maybe. You’ve been talking about improving your cursed energy output, haven’t you, senpai?"

You glance at him, surprised he remembered. "Yeah, I guess. Still doesn’t feel the same without the real stakes."

Satoru lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "You’ve gotta chill, you know? Not every second of your life has to be spent on the front lines. Take a page from my book, senpai! Go and live a little! Relax, enjoy the quiet moments. You can’t win all the glory if you’re burned out."

"Easy for you to say." you grumble, shrugging off his arm. "Everyone’s different, you know that?”

Satoru’s grin falters for just a second, so brief you almost miss it. But he recovers it almost as soon as it happens. You blinked at that. "Sure." he says, his voice lighter than it was a moment ago. "But even I have to deal with Yaga–sensei breathing down my neck sometimes. Guy acts like I’m gonna self-destruct or something."

"Wonder why." Suguru mutters under his breath, earning a snicker from you.

By the time you reach the ramen restaurant, your mood has lightened, if only slightly. The warm glow of the lights and the faint smell of food wafting through the air feel comforting, a small reminder that life isn’t all missions and curses. 

Satoru insists on ordering for everyone which  was much to your dismay because he wanted to choose the desserts menu first, while Suguru sits across from you, watching him with a faintly amused expression.

"You know, senpai." Suguru says as Satoru bounds off toward the counter. "He’s not entirely wrong. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Least of all us kouhai. You’ve done more than enough between us combined. You deserve some rest too."

"That’s not what this is about, though." you say, picking at the edge of the table. "It’s just… I hate feeling useless. And I hate not doing anything too. It’s like I’m sitting on the sidelines while everyone else is out there making a difference, doing something."

Suguru leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "No one thinks you’re useless. You’re one of the strongest sorcerers here, senpai. Don’t let a temporary setback make you forget that. Yaga–sensei’s decision isn’t a punishment; it’s a reminder to pace yourself. You’ll be back out there soon enough."

Before you can respond, Satoru reappears, balancing a heavy tray full of abundant food with one hand like it’s a prize. You blinked as two other staff followed behind him, carrying just as heavy of a load on the trays they were holding. 

"Alright, feast time! And guess what—I got you your favorite." He sets the tray down with a flourish, smirking when you reluctantly take the plate he hands you.

"Thanks, Satoru." you mumble, trying not to sound too grateful.

As the three of you dig into your food, the conversation shifts to lighter topics—Satoru’s  latest antics, Suguru’s commentary on his poor decision-making, and a few inside jokes that make you laugh despite yourself. For a little while, you forget about the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Maybe Suguru’s right about this. Maybe this isn’t the end of the world. It’s just one time. You were sure that it would go by just as fast as it happened. You take a sip of your soup, trying to enjoy the warmth it pools on your mouth. 

And as Satoru leans back in his chair, telling some exaggerated story about a curse he fought, and Suguru trying to correct him about the facts, you couldn’t help but smile at them.

They’ll probably do fine with your missions. Everything will be fine. And so, now, ever so slowly, you think that maybe, just maybe, this break won’t be so bad after all.

══════════════════

YOU BEGGED GAKUGANJI TO LIE TO THE ZENIN. You received the message to come back home a few days ago, the annual winter banquet looming over you like a heavy cloud. The thought of returning made your stomach churn.

You didn’t want to deal with Naoya’s smug, incessant taunts, nor your uncles’ cold glares, each one assessing you like a potential threat or disappointment.

And you certainly didn’t want to endure your drunken grandfather pushing every eligible man in the clan in your direction, urging you to “secure the Zenin legacy.”

At least Gakuganji had relented this time after you wore him down with incessant pleas to be excused from the banquet. He had sighed heavily, grumbled about your stubbornness, and waved you off with a reluctant nod. That victory, however small, was bittersweet.

In the same breath, you decided not to visit your mother for the rest of December either. Word traveled fast, and if the Zenin found out where you were, they’d harass her endlessly until she felt cornered, forced to surrender you back to their grasp. You couldn’t let that happen. Protecting her from their influence was one of the few things you could still control.

So, you opted to stay in your own house. Alone. Indefinitely.

At first, the solitude was welcome, a reprieve from the expectations and judgment that seemed to follow you everywhere. But the days off began to pile up like a slow-moving curse, each one heavier and more suffocating than the last. The stillness clung to you, creeping under your skin.

And that craving to work, to go out and seek danger. To seek out curses. You could feel each and every one of them. There’s one from your apartment block, from a building growing bigger and bigger.

There’s another just a few miles away, eating away the anguish of humanity. But you know you can’t do much about it. Not when they would know your cursed energy. They would recognize it. That would ensure Yaga will hear about it. He would annoy you even more. And you don’t want that.

But just as much, you don’t want a break. You want to work. You need to work. The idle hours claw at you, dragging you into places you’ve been avoiding for too long. You like the chaos of missions—the distractions, the sense of purpose, the way they keep your mind too busy to wander.

Without the missions, the silence becomes unbearable. And in that silence, the nightmares return.

You see her smile again. That sick twisted, stupid smile that lingers in the dark corners of your mind. It’s the kind of smile that hides something cruel, something broken. You can almost hear the fireworks bursting overhead, bright and loud, masking the screams. 

The harmony of Christmas carols drifts faintly in the background, a jarring contrast to the chaos. Her voice echoes in your ears, sharp and cutting. Your body was shaking, but not of the cold. But shock. You were too shocked to even move as you watched her turn her back.

“What the fuck are you saying?” You asked her, your purple eyes turning watery. “You’re leaving me?”

"I don’t need you anymore." she had said, her words like shards of glass. "And you don’t need me anymore. So, let’s end it here, hm?”

Kaiko broke up with you that day.

And then she massacred hundreds.

The images come rushing back in vivid, relentless clarity: the blood, the chaos, the twisted wreckage of everything you thought you understood. You can’t stop replaying it—the devastation, the betrayal, the weight of what she had become.

You don’t want to face it. You don’t want to deal with that Christmas day again.

But in the silence, it finds you. It always finds you.

Tears started to fall from your eyes again.

“I hate this, I hate this too much.”

══════════════════

THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH SLEEP. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You always don’t sleep, you don’t want to sleep enough. Because you knew where it would lead. And you don’t want to end up there. Yet that’s where you ended up.

You wake up drenched in sweat most nights, the images from your dreams burned into your mind. No, not dreams. No no, they’re memories. You see them as clearly as the day they happened. You could feel your breath hitch over and over again, not believing you’d ever see it again. Not like this.

Namie. Her smile, her laugh, the way she’d always known just the right thing to say to pull you out of your moods. You see her standing there, in the middle of that cursed battlefield, her eyes wide with fear as she turns to you—too late. 

The curse’s claws tear through her chest before you can move, before you can scream. Blood sprays, her body crumples, and you’re left standing in the aftermath, paralyzed by your failure. You tell yourself it wasn’t your fault, but the words feel hollow. You were supposed to protect her. You were right there, and you couldn’t save her.

Then comes Kaiko. The guilt tastes different with her, but no less bitter. You see her face, contorted in anger and betrayal, hear her voice, venomous and raw, shouting your name as she lunges at you.

You remember the way her cursed energy crackled in the air, the sharp clash of your techniques, the moment her attack faltered and you struck back without hesitation.

She falls, her body collapsing in slow motion. Blood pools beneath her, a stark contrast to the pale, shocked expression on her face. She hadn’t thought you’d do it. You hadn’t thought you’d do it either.

But you did. The scene plays on repeat in your head every night. Namie died because you weren’t fast enough. Kaiko died because you were too fast. Over and over and over.

You sit on your bed, staring at your shaking hands. You tell yourself you’re strong. A sorcerer. Someone who can endure anything. But the truth is harder to swallow: you can’t handle being still. Because when you stop moving, the memories catch up to you..

Namie. Kaiko. The weight of their deaths pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You glance at the calendar on your wall, the faint tick of the clock echoing in the stillness. Red lines mark the days since your last mission, stretching across the grid like tally marks on a prisoner’s wall. The numbers blur together, each one a reminder of time slipping by without purpose. It feels like an eternity.

And with each passing day, the nightmares grow louder, clawing their way into your thoughts. The stillness that was supposed to heal you now feels suffocating, like a weight pressing on your chest. You begin to wonder if this break—this rest—isn’t meant to fix you at all. Maybe it’s the thing that will finally break you.

The days drag on, stretching endlessly, and your attempts to find relief grow more desperate. You try everything—everything—to distract yourself, to fill the void the missions once occupied.

You pick up a book, hoping to lose yourself in its pages, but the words slip through your mind like water through a sieve. You read the same sentence five times before giving up, the book tossed aside onto a growing pile of failed attempts.

You wander aimlessly around town, hands shoved deep into your pockets as you roam familiar streets with no destination in mind. But the noise of the city only irritates you, and the fleeting glimpses of laughter and holiday cheer feel like a cruel mockery.

You even try your hand at hobbies you’d long since abandoned—sketching, fixing the old record player collecting dust in the corner, even cooking—but nothing clicks. Each attempt feels hollow, like going through the motions of someone else’s life.

Nothing works.

The memories are relentless, clawing at the edges of your mind, refusing to be silenced. Kaiko’s smile haunts you. The fireworks, the screams, the carols—they play on a loop in your head, a cruel symphony of the past.

And the quiet of your apartment feels like a prison. The walls seem to close in on you, pressing closer with each passing hour. The silence stretched taut, oppressive, and the ticking clock became even more  unbearable.

You sit on the couch, head in your hands, the can of soda long forgotten on the table. "This isn't a rest. This is torture." you mutter to yourself, your voice hoarse in the stillness. "This isn’t peace. This is—"

You stop, unable to put words to the feeling, but the emptiness swallows you whole. The weight of it presses down on you, suffocating, as if the very air around you thickens, making it harder to breathe. Your thoughts race in circles, but nothing makes sense. You try to ground yourself, to focus on something, anything, but the more you try, the more you slip away from it all.

Tears fall, heavy and relentless, as if they were always there, waiting for the moment when the dam would finally crack. You rock yourself gently in your arms, the motion a desperate attempt to comfort yourself, to find some semblance of control. But it doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

The room around you seems to close in, the walls pressing in from all sides. The silence, the stillness, it all becomes too much. The space feels claustrophobic now, oppressive, like the walls are suffocating you. You can’t escape it. You can’t escape yourself.

Each breath comes in ragged gasps, as if you’re trying to hold onto something, anything, to stop the flood of memories, the flood of pain. The darkness that has always been there, lurking at the edges, now seems to take shape, swirling around you like a living thing, creeping up your spine, curling its fingers around your throat.

The nightmares that have only been whispers in the background are no longer just in your sleep. They are here, in your apartment, in the silence. They’re alive, moving through every corner of your mind and your space.

Your sobs echo in the emptiness, the only sound in the room, and for a moment, you wonder if this is it—if this is all there is. If the endless cycle of pain, of isolation, is what’s meant for you. You wonder if you’ll ever find a way out, if the break, this supposed reprieve, will ever end.

But all you feel is the suffocating silence. The crushing weight of memories that won’t let you go. The cruel reminder that no matter how far you run, you can’t escape what’s inside you.

One cold winter evening, as the sky outside turns a bruised shade of purple, you sit on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. A sitcom plays, its canned laughter grating against the silence of the room. You’re not even paying attention to the plot; it’s just noise, something to drown out your thoughts.

Then, the doorbell rings.

You freeze. No one ever comes to your place unannounced. Hell, hardly anyone knows where you live. For a moment, you wonder if you imagined it. But then it rings again, louder this time. Dragging yourself off the couch, you shuffle to the door, your brows furrowing in confusion. Peering through the peephole, your confusion only deepens.

There, on your doorstep, stands those three.

Gojo Satoru was smiling at you so brightly.

Geto Suguru greets you warmly and kindly.

Ieiri Shoko waves at you, a cigarette on her lips.

You couldn’t help as you stood there in your Sanrio pajamas,  blinking at them like they’ve just stepped out of one of your nightmares—or maybe one of your better dreams. The cold winter air brushes inside as you stand there utterly frozen. 

“Senpaiiiii, it’s cold!” Satoru snapped you out of it. “Please let us in already!”

“Cry baby.” Shoko snickered, looking at her friend. “Who told you to not put a winter coat on?”

“I didn’t know it would be this cold, Sho! Let me live!”

Suguru sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about this, senpai.”

"What are you three doing here?" you ask, your voice hoarse from disuse.

Satoru turns to you with a grin, his usual cocky demeanor firmly in place. He was cold, but he was going to smile at you regardless. He likes doing that for you, after all. He’s carrying a bag in one hand and waving with the other. 

"Nice place you’ve got here! We thought it was time for a little intervention. And talk about the heating system! Wow, really, if you just let us in—"

Your confusion deepens. "How do you even know where I live?"

"Yaga–sensei." Shoko says simply, lighting a cigarette as she steps past you into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. "He was worried about you, so he gave us your address."

You move to the side, giving enough space for Satoru to come in. Suguru could only shake his head as he asked if he could come in. You finally nodded. Shoko followed him inside, muttering a word of thanks. 

You glance back at Satoru, who’s already making himself at home, plopping onto your couch like he owns the place. He sets the bag down on the coffee table with a flourish. He takes the warmth of the room in with pleasure.

"And you’re welcome, by the way, senpai." he adds, shooting you a wink. "We brought snacks. And movies. And me, the best part of this little party."

Suguru, who’s been leaning casually against the doorframe, finally steps inside, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Yaga–sensei may have told us to go. But we figured you’d be holed up in here, overthinking everything like you always do. So we came to drag you out of your head for a while, if that’s alright with you.”

“I guess.” You blink at them, still processing their sudden appearance. "But I don’t need an intervention. I’m fine, you know?" you mumble, folding your arms defensively. 

Shoko snorts, exhaling a cloud of smoke from her cigarette. "Yeah, you look real fine, senpai." she says, gesturing vaguely at your pajamas, disheveled appearance and the mess in your living room. "When was the last time you left this place, senpai?"

You frowned at her, but before you could reply, Satoru interrupted her, waving her off. "Don’t worry about all that, senpai." he says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a container of something that smells suspiciously like takeout. 

"Tonight, we’re here to chill. No missions, no training, no brooding in the dark. Just us. And maybe a bad horror movie, if Suguru doesn’t complain too much."

"I always complain about your movie choices, Satoru." Geto mutters, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “They’re always so questionable!”

For a moment, you consider kicking them out. You don’t want to be seen like this whatsoever. messy, vulnerable, barely holding it together. But then you catch the genuine concern in their eyes, hidden behind Satoru’s little jokes, Shoko’s eager bluntness, and Suguru's tender composure. They came here because they care, when they didn’t have to. 

And maybe—just maybe—you need this.

"Fine, fine." you mutter, stepping aside to let them fully invade your space. "But if Satoru picks something stupid, I’m kicking all of you out."

"Deal, senpai!" Gojo says cheerfully, already rifling through your meager DVD collection. "This is gonna be great. You’ll see."

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel something other than the suffocating weight of your memories. It’s small, fleeting. But it’s there. It was there and it was there to stay.  A spark of something warmer, lighter. Maybe, with them here, you won’t have to face it all alone.

As the night goes on, your small apartment feels strangely livelier than it has been in the past few weeks. The place, once a sanctuary of silence and isolation, has been overtaken by a chaotic kind of energy that feels foreign—and a little unsettling.

The three musketeers, Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru, have sprawled out in your living room like they own the place. Once the movie ended, Satoru wasted no time grabbing the remote and flipping through your TV channels with all the grace and decorum of a toddler on a sugar rush. 

The sound of random commercials and sitcoms blaring in the background mixes with the clinking of ice cubes as Shoko leans back on your armchair, casually sipping a drink she definitely helped herself to from your fridge.

Suguru, meanwhile, has settled himself on the floor, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he watches it all unfold. He’s got that look, the one that says he’s aware of exactly what’s going on but finds it too entertaining to intervene.

"Did you really just switch to a cooking show, Satoru?" you ask, eyes narrowing in disbelief as you watch him channel-surf with zero sense of restraint.

"Yeah, I did, senpai." Satoru replies nonchalantly, glancing over at you with a grin. "What’s wrong with a little food porn? I’m trying to get inspired for the next big mission meal. I’ll make you a five-star ramen that’ll blow your mind."

You raise an eyebrow. "You? Cook? The same guy who couldn’t even make instant ramen noodles without setting off the smoke alarm?"

"That was one time, senpai!" Satoru protests, flicking the remote like he’s offended. "Besides, ramen's on a different level. You can’t just learn that, it’s an art form."

Shoko, from her spot on the armchair, rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her drink. "If by art form you mean you’ll burn water if left alone for two minutes then sure, go for it."

You sigh, rubbing your temples as the low hum of Satoru’s TV-flipping blends with Shoko’s quiet snark. Suguru’s chuckle is the only thing that cuts through the noise, and you glance at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You’re not helping, Suguru." you mutter back at him. “Honestly when you find yourself loosening up, you end up becoming a menace to me too.

Suguru just shrugs and smiles at you.. "Just enjoying the show, senpai." he says with that faint amusement still in his voice.

And then, as if the universe is trying to throw salt on your wounds, you glance at the time. Your stomach sinks, and the thought hits you like a freight train. They’re planning to stay the night, aren’t they?

“”Don’t tell me you didn’t have accommodations ready?” You direct the question to no one in particular.

But it’s clear from the smug glint in Satoru’s cerulean eyes that he knows exactly what’s coming. He’s like a kid who’s already picked out his spot on the couch for a sleepover. Shoko doesn’t even look at you as she casually lifts her glass at you.

"Yeah, pretty sure we’re all crashing here tonight. Hope that’s okay, senpai." she says, the words dripping with sarcasm.

"Didn’t even ask, huh?" you mutter under your breath, but there’s no real point in protesting.

Suguru gives you an almost apologetic look, though his smirk is still firmly in place. "You’re stuck with us, senpai. Might as well get comfy."

"Great, just great." you deadpan. "A full house. Just what I needed."

Satoru immediately perks up, sitting cross-legged on your couch like an overgrown child. "What are you talking about, senpai?" he says, his grin wide and unabashed. "You’ve got so much space in the living room! Look at this—practically a luxury penthouse." He gestures dramatically at the modest area, clearly exaggerating.

You narrow your eyes at him. "It’s not a penthouse. And what does it matter? You’re not staying."

He leans back against the couch, arms spread wide. "But I’ve never had a sleepover before," he says, with the kind of mock-innocence you know is meant to guilt-trip you. "C’mon, don’t ruin my first one."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink at him, surprised. "Never?"

Satoru shakes his head, that grin of his still firmly in place. "Never. Clan rules, remember? Strict schedules, separate quarters, all that fun stuff."

Something in your chest twists at that. You think of your own childhood, so eerily similar. "Neither have I." you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Suguru, who’s been observing the exchange with his usual calm, suddenly blinks in surprise. He looks between the two of you, and a flicker of understanding crosses his face. You sighed, crossing your arms at him.

"That’s right." he murmurs, almost to himself. "I forgot you guys didn’t grow up outside of clan culture."

The room falls into a brief, thoughtful silence. Shoko, for once, doesn’t break it with a sarcastic remark. Instead, she just takes another sip from her drink, watching the three of you with an unreadable expression. You shake your head at the situation at hand.

"Well…." Satoru says finally, his tone lighter, though his grin softens into something almost genuine. "There’s a first time for everything, right? And tonight’s as good a time as any. You’ve got your first sleepover buddies right here!"

You shake your head, exasperated. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but you like me anyway," Satoru couldn’t help but quip, winking.

Suguru sighs, shaking his head as he leans back against the wall. "He’s not wrong about space, though. We could manage, senpai."

"And mind you, senpai, you are outnumbered." Shoko adds lazily, her voice tinged with amusement. “Three to one is an ultimate defeat.”

You glance around your small living room, taking in the ridiculousness of the situation. There’s no way they’re going to leave. And maybe, just maybe, a part of you doesn’t want them to. You took a moment and then breathed deeply. You finally nodded.

"Fine, fine." you grumble back at them. "But if any of you snore, you’re out the door."

Satoru cheers like he’s just won a grand prize, while Suguru chuckles softly. Shoko smirks, flicking ash from her cigarette. As they start debating who gets the couch versus the floor, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of warmth settle in your chest. It’s new, unfamiliar—but not entirely unwelcome.

Satoru, flipping the remote like he’s discovered a new channel once again, grins even wider. "Trust me, senpai! You’ll not regret this in the morning. You’ve been moping around here for weeks. We’re here to enlighten you with our brilliant company."

Shoko chimes in, raising her glass in a mock toast. "To brilliant company."

Suguru chuckles. "It’s a rough job, but someone’s gotta do it."

“You three are just…” You smiled at them. “Head to sleep already.”\

Satoru was right in the end, as he always was.

You didn’t regret it one bit, the next day.

If anything, you still held this memory close to your heart.

══════════════════

YOU HAD GOTTEN ENOUGH SLEEP. But not enough, like before. And you were glad about it. The faint winter morning light filters gently through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. You stir slightly, still caught in the fog of sleep, your body reluctant to leave the warmth of your blankets as you sprawled onto the soft feather stuffed pillows. 

They had managed to rope you to sleep with them in the living room, almost truly like a sleep over, even when you wanted to sleep in your room. You had refused numerous times, but they kept going and asking. They weren’t giving up, so you had to defeat them in a coin toss. And they won. Hence, why you were here.

The quiet of the early morning lingers around you, comforting in its stillness, as the world outside remains frozen under a blanket of snow. It seemed like a good day to just laze around all morning. But just as you start to drift back into the comforting haze of sleep, the peace is shattered. An unmistakable voice, loud and intrusive, cuts through the silence like a knife.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" Satoru’s overly cheerful tone cuts through the quiet, followed by the sound of him banging a pan with a spoon. "Come on! Up, up, up! We’ve got plans!"

You groan, rolling over and pulling your blanket over your head. "What now, Satoru?" you mutter. “It’s too early.”

From the couch, Suguru grumbles something incoherent, his voice muffled by a pillow. Shoko, sprawled on the floor with a blanket half-draped over her, opens one eye, her expression murderous. 

"Satoru, you idiot." she growls, her voice rough with sleep. "It’s too early for your nonsense. Shut up and let us sleep."

"But it’s not nonsense!" Satoru protests, his voice rising an octave in indignation. "You’ll never believe what I found out!" 

He marches over to the window, dramatically pulling back the curtains and flooding the room with sunlight. You groan at the light, your eyes snapping open. It’s not even that early, well at least not to Gojo Satoru. 

But to you and the other two, it was still pretty early enough to be annoyed. The sun was still up, brighter than you all wanted. You rub your eyes, squinting at the sun. Shoko however did not fare better, and nor did Suguru.

"Ow, my eyes!" Shoko snaps, covering her face with her blanket. “Satoru, you fucker!”

Suguru throws a pillow at Satoru, who dodges it effortlessly. "Whatever it is, Satoru, it can all wait." Suguru says, his voice thick with irritation. "I’m serious, Satoru. Some of us value our sleep."

"No, it can’t wait!" Satoru announces, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. "I found out we’re right near a theme park! Like, walking distance. We have to go!"

Both Shoko and Suguru groan in unison, their reactions almost synchronized. It’s like they’ve done this a thousand times before, and honestly, they probably have. You can see the shared look of exasperation pass between them, as if they’ve collectively accepted that nothing in their lives is ever going to be normal with Satoru around.

"You woke us up for that?" Shoko asks, glaring at him.

"It’s way too early for a theme park, Satoru." Suguru adds, rubbing his temple. "They’re not even open yet."

"But they will be, Suguru!" Satoru says, crossing his arms and pouting like a kid denied candy. "Come on, what’s wrong with you guys? Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"It’s still asleep, out of the jurisdiction, out of sight, out of mind." Shoko deadpans, rolling over.

Satoru dramatically huffs, throwing his arms in the air. "You’re all no fun!" 

Shoko rolls her eyes dramatically. "You really have no shame, do you, Satoru?" she mutters under her breath, clearly amused but trying to hide it. "What, is this what you do now? Drag people out of bed like some kind of high-energy nightmare?"

Suguru sighed, leaning against the pillow he was hugging. "I can’t believe you, Satoru. Do you ever just… let people live?"

“Meh, meh. Sorry, I don’t talk to not fun people.” He drops onto the edge of your side of the air mattress and smiles at you. "What about you, senpai? You’re cool, right? You’ll go with me!"

You sigh, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "If it’ll get you to stop acting like a five-year-old, then... sure. Why not?"

Satoru freezes, turning to look at you with wide, starry cerulean eyes. "Really?" he asks, his voice brimming with excitement.

You, now fully awake and regretting every decision that brought you to this point, look from one to the other, then back to Satoru. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, fine, you win. I’m up. Can you please just leave me with some shred of dignity before you turn my whole apartment into a circus?"

In an instant, Gojo Satoru scoots closer, practically glowing with abundant joy. He almost looked exactly like a puppy, happy about being given a treat for the first time. Oftentimes, you forget that he was also a clan kid like you, who never experienced these things as well as one regular person would. 

"You’re the best, senpai!" he says, his grin so dazzling it’s almost blinding. He leans in slightly, his face closer to yours than you expected, and the sudden proximity makes your heart skip a beat. “Ah, this is why you’re my favorite!”

You try to look away, feeling your entire face turn scarlet red. But his enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself smiling despite your embarrassment. You sighed at him, patting his shoulders. 

"Don’t make me regret this, Satoru." you mumble, your face warm. “We’re gonna have fun, but in a way we all would enjoy, okay?”

“Hm, as you say, senpai!” He replies, still heavily enthusiastic.

Suguru, still lying on the other side of the air mattress, lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Great. Now we’re all going, aren’t we?"

"Obviously, Suguboo!" Satoru replies, his grin widening as he hops off your side. "I mean, what’s a theme park trip without all my best friends?"

“Hey, don’t call me Suguboo.”

“But I don’t want to stop, Suguboo—” Suguru threw a pillow at him, hitting him on the face.

Shoko groans again, pulling her blanket over her head. "You owe me coffee for this, Satoru." she mutters. “I need a lot of it to get through the day.”

“The Gojo Satoru infinite wallet pouch is ready to serve you today!”

“It's better buy me the best of the best, Satoru.”

"Until then, let’s drink the one at home. So, I’ll go make coffee in the kitchen." you say with a sigh.

“Hm, thank you, senpai.” Shoko grumbles from her position.

You slowly stand up from your spot, every muscle protesting the movement as you stretch. You walk toward the kitchen, hoping the smell of freshly brewed coffee will help shake off the remnants of sleep clinging to you like a fog.

“Senpai—”

You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Satoru. You can hear the exaggerated whine in his voice before he even finishes the sentence.

“No, no, it’s fine.” you tell him, waving him off without looking back. “You guys are already causing enough chaos. Let me handle the coffee. I’ve got it.”

Gojo Satoru doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he pouts dramatically, his voice rising in that almost childlike plea that never fails to get under your skin. You could feel your eye twitch.

“But, senpai.” he whines again, his tone a mix of desperation and mock sadness. “You know I’m really bad at making coffee. Remember that one time I tried to brew it and we ended up with, like, coffee-flavored charcoal?”

You can’t help but snort, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, I remember. I also remember you trying to make me some instant noodles, and I still haven’t forgiven you for that disaster.”

Satoru’s pout deepens, and he stares at you with those wide, blue eyes, his expression pleading like a lost puppy. “Senpai, please. I swear, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even throw in some cookies or something later. But just let me make the coffee, okay? I promise it’ll be good!”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, seeing his exaggerated frown, the way his lip quivers in mock sadness. He’s laying it on thick, but for some reason, it’s hard to keep a straight face. You shake your head. He’s such a child.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to burn down my kitchen, Satoru?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"That was one time!" he insists, dramatically throwing his arms up as though to plead his case. "One time, and I learned from my mistakes. I’m practically a professional now!" He gives a nod to himself as if he’s convinced of his own greatness.

You roll your purple eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch. "Fine, fine." you relent, shaking your head in disbelief. "But if I end up with a cup of mud instead of coffee, you’re cleaning up the mess."

Satoru’s face lights up immediately, his eyes sparkling with what can only be described as pure glee. Ah, he can smile like that too, you think to yourself. “Deal! You won’t regret it, senpai, I promise!”

As you make your way toward the kitchen, you hear him behind you, his footsteps almost skipping with excitement. "You’ll see! This is going to be the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had! I’m practically a coffee connoisseur!"

You try to hide your smirk as you enter the kitchen, already bracing yourself for whatever absurdities Satoru is about to bring to the table. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Satoru.” you mutter under your breath.

Satoru pauses just before entering the kitchen, looking at you with mock seriousness. “Senpai, I’ve mastered the art of coffee. I’ve trained under the world’s finest baristas. You won’t even recognize the quality!”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest. “Yeah, sure you have.”

Satoru steps into the kitchen with far too much confidence, already reaching for the coffee beans like he’s about to perform a magic trick. You know this is going to be interesting. You watch him closely. 

"This is gonna be amazing." he mutters to himself, as if trying to convince both of you.

You shake your head, standing back to watch the chaos unfold. Whatever happens next, you’re almost certain it’ll be more entertaining than your original plan of quietly making the coffee yourself.

As Gojo Satoru makes the coffee, he starts buzzing around and chattering about which rides to hit first, you can’t help but feel a little less annoyed about the early wake-up call. His excitement is ridiculous, sure—but it’s also kind of... endearing. 

Well, you’ve known that the moment you met him. But seeing it over and over again, it always made your heart ever warmer towards him. He’s different from every other clan folk you’ve met. And you were glad for that. You need more kind people in those spaces.

The soft morning haze still lingers, casting a gentle glow through the kitchen window as Satoru practically dances around your kitchen, his enthusiasm infectious but undeniably over-the-top. He’s already rattling off every possible ride and snack the theme park might offer, his words spilling out in rapid bursts like a hyperactive child who's had one too many sugar rushes.

"I swear, the rollercoaster is gonna be insane! I saw it on their website! And they’ve got this new cotton candy that’s like... blue and pink and it’s literally out of this world! Oh, and the haunted house? Don't even get me started. It's supposed to be the scariest thing ever! I’m telling you, we’re gonna have so much fun, senpai!” 

He continues talking for a little bit more, moving around the kitchen like a whirlwind, pulling out everything he needs with too much flair—coffee beans, a grinder, and what you can only assume is the most complicated brewing setup you’ve ever seen.

You stand by the counter, watching the chaos unfold with the kind of resigned amusement that only Satoru can provoke. You cross your arms and lean against the countertop. “Did you wake up on a sugar high, or is this your normal level of insane?”

Satoru spins around with a bright grin, his hair still slightly messy from sleep but somehow looking perfect in that way only he can manage. “Who needs sugar when life is this exciting? Also, if I don’t make this coffee, I’m pretty sure your day will be cursed, senpai. It’s like a public service.”

You can’t help but snort at his dramatic flair, though you can’t deny the faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Right. And I suppose the curse you’re talking about involves caffeine-fueled chaos?”

"Exactly!" Satoru says, as though it’s the most logical thing in the world. “I mean, what’s life without a little chaos? You need this, senpai.”

You can only shake your head as he starts brewing the coffee. The machine whirs to life with a hum that cuts through the air, and Satoru, ever the perfectionist (or at least pretending to be), stands over it like a chef preparing a Michelin-starred dish. His face is a study in concentration, except for the occasional exaggerated eyebrow raise as he checks to see if you're watching.

He adds the coffee grounds with a flourish, as if it’s some kind of secret recipe, and begins to press buttons and twist knobs, making it all seem far more complicated than it really is. He’s making it harder for himself.

"Don’t you think you're taking this a little too seriously?" you ask, still leaning against the counter. “It’s just coffee, not a rocket launch.”

Satoru doesn’t even glance at you as he nods, clearly in the zone. “Senpai, the key to a perfect cup of coffee is precision. It’s an art form. I’ve mastered the art of brewing.” He shoots you a look, clearly proud of himself. “You’ll see.”

As the scent of coffee starts to fill the room, you watch him continue to move around with far too much energy. His arms are wide, gesturing as though he’s explaining some life-changing revelation. “I’m telling you, the theme park’s going to be insane. They’re bringing in a whole new section for kids! You know what that means? More rides for us!”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying how contagious his energy is, even if it’s borderline exhausting. “Right, because you’re so mature.” you tease, though you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “How does that even make sense? You’re literally going on rides for children.”

He pauses for a beat, then grins wider, as if proud of his reasoning. “You can’t blame a guy for wanting to have fun! Anyway, once this coffee’s ready, we can start planning. You’ll be wide awake and full of energy. Trust me, you’ll need it.”

You watch him for a moment longer, his utter absurdity and boundless enthusiasm filling the space like an electric current. The coffee machine hums away in the background, and you can feel the sleepiness start to melt away despite yourself. 

Maybe, just maybe, a little chaos in your day wouldn’t be the worst thing. After all, with someone like Satoru around, it’s never really quiet anyway. But maybe, just maybe, that’s for the best. It would keep the nightmares away, even for a little while.

"Did you know they have this crazy roller coaster that does a full 360 loop?" Satoru exclaims, pulling up images of the park on his phone and shoving the screen into Suguru’s face, as he drinks the coffee.

Suguru, still lying on the couch as he drinks the coffee, swats lazily at Satoru’s hand without even opening his dark purple orbs. "Satoru, please.”  he says in a gravelly voice. "It's not even 7 a.m. The park won’t open for hours. Go entertain yourself until then."

"But if we wait, the lines will be insane." Satoru whines, dropping dramatically onto the arm of the couch. "And if we don’t go early, we won’t get to ride everything!"

"Sounds tragic, really." Shoko mutters from her spot on the floor, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she peeks out from under her blanket. "Really, I don’t know how we’d recover from such a loss."

Satoru ignores her, spinning on his heel to face you. His glasses are perched lazily around his neck, and his azure eyes sparkle with an almost childlike glee. You drink your own coffee in silence. You didn’t want to look at him, but when your own lilac eyes and his own orbs met, you were done for.

"Come on, senpai." he pleads, clasping his hands together. "You already said you’d go. Convince these two party poopers!"

You rub your temples, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. But then he turns those eyes on you, full of such unbridled excitement that it catches you off guard. It’s rare to see Gojo Satoru like this, unfiltered and genuinely animated and fully eager, and something about it makes your earlier irritation melt away.

You sigh, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. "Fine, fine. I already said I’d go, didn’t I?"

Satoru freezes for a moment, then lights up like a firework. "You’re the best!" he exclaims, bounding toward you. He stops just shy of your position, crouching down so he’s at eye level. "No, really. You’re the absolute best. I knew you wouldn’t let me down!"

His face is close—too close. You can see the flecks of light in his cerulean blue eyes, the faint curl of his grin, and the way his energy practically radiates off him in waves. It’s overwhelming, and before you know it, your cheeks are burning.

"Stop looking at me like that, Satoru. I’m trying to drink the coffee." you mutter, turning your face away.

Satoru tilts his head, his grin morphing into something softer, more amused. "Like what?"

"Like that." you snap, though your voice lacks bite. You feel like a flustered mess, and his teasing only makes it worse.

Behind you, Suguru sits up, his hair falling messily over his shoulders. "This is exactly why I said no sleepovers. In fact, never again." he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "I forgot how exhausting the two of you can be together."

"You forgot because you’re just a party pooper." Satoru quips, standing up straight and stretching his arms over his head. "Come on, you two. Get up already! We’ve got a theme park to conquer! Sho, drink the coffee!"

"You’ve got a death wish, waking people up like this. On a Sunday, no less." Shoko says, dragging herself into a sitting position. She looks at you and smirks, her sharp gaze catching the faint redness in your cheeks. "And you. Blushing over Gojo Satoru, senpai? Never thought I’d see the day."

"I’m not blushing!" you snap defensively, though the warmth in your face betrays you. “It’s just hot, yeah, it’s just….”

"Sure, sure." Shoko says, standing up and stretching lazily. "I’ll let it slide since I’m getting Satoru’s black card paying for everything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get up and drink the coffee, Sho!”

Suguru lets out a long sigh, standing and brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if I hear one complaint about how tired you are later, Satoru, I'll convince senpai to leave you stranded at the park by yourself."

"Deal!" Satoru chirps, already darting to the kitchen to grab snacks for the road. "This is going to be amazing, you’ll see!"

As the sun starts to warm your face, the faint glow of early morning sunlight breaking through the coolness of the winter air, you find yourself inexplicably smiling. You can’t help it—no matter how ridiculous it all is, no matter how absurd Satoru’s plans seem, something about this feels right. You finally finished your coffee.

“Maybe this break is exactly what I needed.” you admit, glancing up at the sky. “Not just the time off, but… well, this.” You gesture to the group, already well into some new debate about which roller coaster will give them the best thrill. 

Shoko gives you a knowing look, her eyes slightly squinted in amusement. “Oh, so you’re finally admitting you’re not completely immune to chaos, huh?”

You shrug with a smirk. “I’m just saying, if I have to be dragged into a theme park against my will, at least it’s with the most entertaining people possible.”

Suguru shakes his head with a chuckle. “You know, I thought you were the one who was going to drag us into your chaos, senpai. But look at you now, following his lead.”

Satoru turns around mid-step, his energy never faltering. “Of course! It’s a lifestyle, people! Living on the edge, embracing the madness! You can thank me later when you’ve experienced true joy.”

“And I’ll thank you later when I recover from the exhaustion.” you mutter, but you can’t help but laugh. 

Even if it’s a little chaotic, maybe it’s exactly the kind of break you needed. You’d never admit it to Satoru, but the thought of having a day without responsibilities or missions, without constantly running from one problem to the next, feels like the small escape you’ve been craving.

As the group heads toward the train station, Gojo Satoru still chattering about all the fun things you’re about to experience, you realize that despite all your reluctance and doubts, maybe this chaotic, ridiculous, and loud is exactly what you needed after all.

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T EXPECTED TO FEEL SO FAMILIAR THE MOMENT YOU STEPPED INTO THE GATES OF THE THEME PARK. You used to come here often, with….them. Each time you have the time of day from the week, they would suggest coming here.

It wasn’t too far from Kyoto Jujutsu High, so it was pretty easy to make your way here and then back home in a quick succession. But you haven’t been back since. So, you were surprised that it would still feel familiar and all at the same time, feel different.

The noise of the theme park surrounds you like a warm, chaotic hug—the laughter of children, the shrill screams of riders zooming by on roller coasters, the sugary scent of cotton candy and funnel cakes hanging in the air.

It’s a whirlwind of bright colors, flashing lights, and energy, but you feel strangely detached, standing on the sidewalk in front of the entrance.

It’s been so long since you’ve been to a theme park—six years, maybe more—and the memories that rise to the surface aren’t the happiest. The last time you were here, you were with Namie and Kaiko, and everything seemed so simple. 

You can still remember the sound of their laughter, the way their faces had lit up when they’d seen their favorite ride, the way they had dragged you to the food stalls for overpriced snacks. It was carefree. Happy. But that’s not how you feel now.

The moment stretches on as you find yourself lost in thought, staring at the entrance like it's miles away from you. Before you can sink further into the old memories, you feel a soft presence next to you—gentle, like the calm after a storm.

Suguru stands beside you, not crowding you, but close enough to show that he’s here. He watches you for a moment, his sharp gaze taking in your distant expression. You didn’t even realize how far you had drifted from the group until now.

"Hey, senpai." he says, his voice soft and steady. "You alright?"

You blink, slowly turning toward him, and suddenly realize how out of it you must have looked. It’s hard to hide things from Geto Suguru; he’s the one who always seems to notice when you’re not quite there. You try to brush it off, offering him a small, tight smile.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking," you mutter, hoping that will be enough to convince him.

But Suguru isn’t fooled. "Thinking about what?"

You hesitate, your thoughts still clinging to the past like sticky cobwebs, but you push them away. You can’t stay in that space forever, not here, not today. You didn’t want to dampen the mood.

And you highly doubt that it’s wise to bring up Kaiko. Geto Suguru would at least have a rough knowledge about who she is. But still, a part of you was protective of her. Even with what she had become, you loved her. You still did. You always will.

"The last time I came to a theme park, it was with my own team, in Jujutsu High." you admit quietly. "I guess it’s just... weird being here without them."

Suguru doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he stands there for a moment, looking at you with an understanding that makes your heart do a small flip. Then, without skipping a beat, he asks you with a small smile.

"What’s something you’re looking forward to today? Something you can enjoy here, just for you, senpai?”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the question. It’s simple—too simple, but somehow it feels like it’s exactly what you needed to hear. Your thoughts trail back to the rides, the sweet treats, the nostalgic excitement of being at a theme park. You hadn’t thought about what you wanted. It had all been about avoiding the past.

"I... I guess I used to love roller coasters, I suppose." you admit, a little sheepishly, as you glance around at the bustling theme park. "And the food, of course. They have some good sandwiches here. But, of course, it's so overpriced, but it always tastes amazing."

Suguru’s lips curl into a soft, almost amused smile as he watches your face light up, just a little. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you, taking in the subtle shift in your demeanor. Then, with a flick of his hand, he gestures to the chaos around you, as if presenting it like a gift. 

“Well, what better place to indulge, huh?”

You chuckle at his nonchalant presentation of the madness around you. It’s comforting, somehow. It’s like he can see exactly what you need without saying a word. It’s one of the reasons why, in all the chaos, Geto Suguru feels like the calm center. He can be a safe zone. You think you could consider him as one.

"Then let’s make today about you, senpai." he says, his voice warm and steady. "You like roller coasters, right? Go get on one. You can even scream as loud as you want." He pauses for a beat, his eyes twinkling just a bit. “If you want, I’ll go with you.”

A laugh bubbles out of you at the thought of getting on a ride and screaming your head off. You didn’t think you could feel even a little bit of excitement today, but there it is—a lightness that you didn’t know you were missing. You shake your head slightly, but there’s a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Scream as loud as I want, huh? That might not be pretty, but sure, I’ll take you up on that.”

Suguru’s smile widens at the sight of you relaxing, just a little. His presence is so calm, so steady, that it feels like the weight on your shoulders lightens just from his quiet support. You find it oddly comforting, like the world is allowed to be a little less heavy for just a moment.

"You don’t have to hold back, you know." he continues, his voice soft but insistent. "Let go for once. It's just you, me, and the roller coasters. It’s about having fun. You’ve been too serious for too long." He gives you a knowing look, his expression sincere. “I get it. Sometimes you need someone to remind you how to laugh.”

His words are gentle, but they carry more weight than you'd expect. Suguru has a way of making you feel seen, like he knows the quiet battles you fight even when you don’t say a word. The tension in your chest eases, and for the first time since arriving, you feel something like hope stirring inside you. 

You realize how badly you’ve been craving a moment like this—something simple, something that doesn’t feel like a mission or a responsibility. It’s just a day, just a small escape. And you were grateful, grateful that you don’t feel this heavy weight on you. Even just one day.

“I might just take you up on that, Suguru.” you say, your smile widening as you meet his gaze. "But if I scream my lungs out, I’m blaming you."

Suguru chuckles softly, a warm, genuine sound that fills the space between you. "Deal. But I’ll be right there with you. We’ll make it a proper scream-fest."

With that, you feel your shoulders relax further, the weight on your chest lifting. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve been missing the little joys like this. The chaos, the laughter, and Suguru’s quiet support. You realize that sometimes, it’s the simplest things, the smallest moments, that make all the difference.

"And hey, senpai." Suguru adds, leaning in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper, as if he's sharing a top-secret plan. "If you feel embarrassed, we can have Satoru with us. I’m sure he’ll scream worse and be scared worse. He’ll never live it down. Or better yet, let’s get him on a bungee ride. I’m sure he’ll look absolutely terrible on camera while he screams.”

You blink at him, and for a moment, you actually consider it. The image of Gojo Satoru flailing around on a bungee ride, his usual air of invincibility replaced by sheer terror, is just too funny to ignore. The mental picture has you snorting a little, despite yourself.

“You’re actually a menace.” you reply with a grin, shaking your head. “But that does sound like something I could get behind.”

Suguru’s grin widens, his purple eyes sparkling with mischief. “I thought you’d like that idea. It’ll be hilarious. Can you imagine the look on his face when he realizes he’s about to jump off a platform, all while trying to look cool?”

You can't help but laugh at the thought of Satoru trying to keep up his cool guy persona while the bungee cord yanks him into a wild, screaming freefall. “You know, you’re right. He would try to act like it’s no big deal, and then probably end up screaming like a baby.”

Suguru chuckles, clearly enjoying the idea just as much as you are. “Exactly. He won’t know what hit him. And then we’ll never let him live it down. We’ll put the footage on a loop in the dorms. Great cinematic masterpiece!”

At this point, you're grinning ear-to-ear, the tension from earlier all but forgotten. “I’m so in. I’m going to bring it up next time we’re all together.”

Suguru laughs, giving you a playful nudge. “I knew you’d come around. Best part is, he won’t even see it coming. Just wait until you hear him scream. You’ll thank me later.”

The way his laughter seems to light up the space between you makes your heart skip a beat. His words, the way he’s paying attention to you in a way that feels so... personal, warm you from the inside out. 

It’s not just about the theme park or the roller coasters anymore, those are little trivial things. It’s the small things—the way he cares without making a big deal about it. You don’t have to carry everything alone. Not when he’s around.

You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks redden under his gaze. "Thanks, Suguru." you murmur, looking away, not quite able to hold his gaze for too long. "I needed that."

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich, like a warm breeze. "Anytime, senpai. I’m always here for you."

You give him a small, bashful smile, feeling a flutter in your chest as you turn toward the rest of the group. Satoru’s already waving at you from the front of the line for a roller coaster, looking far too excited for someone who’s supposed to be exhausted from sleeping late last night.

You could believe Shoko’s own demeanor to be more true to life, as she grumbles drinking her mocha frappe beside Satoru in the quiet. You glance back at Suguru, who’s still standing beside you, his calm demeanor making you feel a little more grounded.

"Alright." you say, finally feeling a bit more you than you did when you first walked into the park. "Let’s do this. But I’m not going on the bungee rides, no matter how much you try to make me."

Suguru raises an eyebrow, his smile still soft. "We’ll see about that, senpai. I can be pretty persuasive, after all."

You blush, rolling your lilac eyes, but as the group starts to move toward the ride, you feel lighter. It’s a small step, but a step forward nonetheless. Today, you’re going to enjoy the little things. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll let yourself have a little fun along the way.

As you walk toward Satoru and Shoko, you could tell that there was going to be chaos on the ride ahead. You could feel Suguru’s quiet presence beside you, as he follows you and the warmth in your chest spreads, gentle and comforting.

Maybe this can be a day for new memories with them. Not just old ones you’ve been keeping too deep inside. Maybe you could have more in this life than the grief too big to carry in your heart.

The moment you and Suguru start to fall in step with the rest of the group, Satoru was already bouncing on his heels, antsy with excitement. His cerulean eyes are practically sparkling as he spots the first ride beside the booths.

It was a towering, twisting roller coaster that loops and plunges in ways that make even the most adrenaline-junkie riders second guess their life choices.

“Come on! We’re going on this one first!” Satoru says, grabbing your wrist before you can even protest. His grip is firm but playful, and he tugs you along like you’re a piece of loose paper in the wind. “We’re going to have so much fun here!”

You stumble slightly as he pulls you forward, and your heart skips a beat at how sudden and strong his pull is. You knew he was enthusiastic, but you didn’t expect him to not be afraid of that. It was worse than a regular roller coaster you enjoyed.

"Whoa, Gojo Satoru—slow down!" you manage to get out, trying to keep your balance as you hurry to keep up with his eager steps. His energy is so contagious that it's a bit overwhelming, and you’re already feeling a little winded just from trying to keep up with him.

Satoru looks over his shoulder at you, giving you a wide grin, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh? You scared, senpai?" he teases, slowing just a little, but not enough for your liking. “I thought you were a roller coaster person!”

"I am!" you reply, more defensively than you mean to. "But I don’t need to break into a sprint to get on a ride, Satoru!" You wince, realizing you’re practically out of breath already. “You’re just too fast for me, that’s all.”

He chuckles, slowing his pace just enough to let you catch up, though you can still see the excitement bubbling in his gaze. He turns fully toward you, flashing that trademark grin. “Sorry, sorry! I just really want you to have fun! This ride is amazing, you’ll see! It’ll make you forget all about whatever you were thinking about earlier.” He winks, as though this is some grand plan to distract you.

You can’t help but blush at his playful confidence. It’s hard to ignore the way his presence takes over a space, even when he's just trying to drag you onto a ride. “You’re way too much sometimes, you know that?”

Satoru laughs, his hand still holding yours tightly as he walks backward in front of you, his gaze never leaving yours. “What? I’m just being enthusiastic! You’re gonna love it. I promise.”

You try to resist, but his energy is infectious, and despite your initial hesitation, you find yourself smiling. You glance over at Suguru and Shoko, who are walking a few paces behind, Suguru shaking his head with a small smile, clearly used to Gojo’s antics by now.

"Satoru," you say, pulling back just slightly, trying to dig in your heels. "I’m not sure I’m ready for that huge of a ride right off the bat. I mean, I—"

But before you can finish your sentence, Satoru is already gripping your hand a little tighter, his signature grin plastered across his face. Without hesitation, he begins turning you toward the massive roller coaster queue, practically dragging you along. 

“Nope, no backing out now, senpai! You said you’d scream, so let’s scream!”

"Wait, Satoru, seriously—!" you protest, stumbling a little as he pulls you forward with alarming enthusiasm.

"Suguru, help!" you call out, half-laughing and half-panicking, like a kid being dragged along by an overzealous parent.

Suguru, who’s been watching this whole spectacle with an amused smirk, laughs out loud. "Alright, alright. I’ll come with you, senpai." He gives you a knowing look, one that says he’s not about to let you go through this alone.

"Good. Thank you." you mutter, slightly relieved, though you're not sure how much that’ll actually help. Suguru’s calm presence is certainly reassuring, but there’s no amount of support that could fully prepare you for the monstrous roller coaster looming in front of you.

Satoru, in all his glory, turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “Don’t worry, senpai. You’re gonna love it. And if you scream like a little kid, I won’t judge... much.” He chuckles, then starts tugging you forward again. “Come on, let’s make this fun! Just think about the view from the top!”

“You’re both insane,” you mutter, though you can’t hide a reluctant grin. You can tell you’re probably not getting out of this one, not with Satoru’s unshakeable confidence and Suguru’s good-natured support. Maybe this would end up being more fun than you expected—though you’d reserve judgment until after the ride.

Suguru gives you a small smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Hey, it’s all about enjoying the moment. Besides, if you scream, we’ll have some great footage for the bungee to laugh at later. Let him have his fun here."

You pause, shooting him a sideways glance. “You guys really have it out for me today, don’t you?”

"Of course," Suguru replies with a teasing tone. "You look like you could use a good scream."

"You're going to pay for this." you warn both of them, but you can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes. Maybe, just maybe, this chaotic day was exactly what you needed after all.

“I’ll take three tickets, please.” he says confidently, practically bouncing on his feet as he hands over the money. “And they’re both with me!” 

He gestures to you and Suguru with exaggerated flair, and for a moment, you can’t help but roll your eyes, though you can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. His enthusiasm is impossible to resist.

As the three of you board the ride and take your seats, Satoru buckles in beside you with exaggerated care, flashing you a playful wink. "See? I told you we’d have fun."

Suguru takes your hand and smiles at you. “It’s going to be okay, senpai. We’re here with you.”

You chuckle nervously, glancing at the massive drops ahead of you. “You know, you’re really making me regret agreeing to this.”

Satoru tilts his head, his glasses slightly shifting as he grins. "I’m just here to help you face your fears, senpai.” He gives you a look of mock seriousness. "If you scream, I won’t judge. Promise."

You snort, shaking your head. "I’m not scared. I just don’t like being dragged into things at full speed."

The ride jerks to life hard, and before you know it, the cart lurches forward. You feel your stomach leap as you zoom forward on the track, the wind whipping through your hair.

And for a split second, you forget everything, the past, the hesitation, the weight of your thoughts. It’s just the rush, the dizzying sensation of the roller coaster twisting, turning, and plunging.

And there, right next to you, Satoru and Suguru’s faces are lit up with the brightest, most carefree smile you’ve ever seen. Their bright purple and cerulean orbs are wide with excitement, and you can’t help but laugh, the sound drowned out by the noise of the ride. 

You scream as you plummet down one of the steep drops, still holding onto Suguru’s hand. The other free one is trying to reach for Satoru’s, who catches yours as he laughs against the drop. The rush of adrenaline flooding your veins, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel free.

As the ride slows and the ground levels out, Satoru turns toward you, his grin wide and unashamed. "See? Told you you’d love it."

“You really are gripping my hand hard, senpai.” Suguru butted in too, grinning. “You sure you aren’t scared anymore?”

You look at him, laughing, feeling the aftershocks of the ride still coursing through you. “You’re impossible. Both of you.” you say, though your tone is affectionate, and your cheeks are flushed, partly from the ride, partly from the fact that he’s just too damn charming.

Satoru just beams, squeezing your hand briefly before letting go. “Impossible is my middle name, senpai.”

Suguru laughs. “Wah, Satoru. That’s the worst thing you could have said. Corny as shit.”

“Hey, it was great!”

And for the first time in a long while, you find yourself really laughing, your worries forgotten, at least for now. Maybe it’s not about the past at all. Maybe it’s about moments like this, moments of pure, unadulterated fun.

With them by your side, you realize you might just start looking forward to more of them. For the first time in a while, you think you could smile with the utmost tenderness from your heart.

══════════════════

THERE WAS STILL MUCH TO EXPLORE. The sun is high, and the day stretches before you, bright and full of promise. The chaos of the theme park no longer feels overwhelming; instead, it’s just... fun. Y

ou’re laughing, you’re present, and the weight of the past feels just a little lighter with every ride, every bite of food, and every moment spent with the group.

The roller coaster was only the beginning, and now, you find yourself happily floating through the park, trying out different attractions with Satoru dragging you from one to the next like an excited child.

While Suguru keeps a steady, slightly exasperated pace beside you. His protective, calming energy balances out Satoru’s manic enthusiasm perfectly, and you can’t help but appreciate how easy it is to be around him, even in the middle of all this chaos. 

Shoko had taken the liberty of following you guys and disappearing, with Satoru’s black card in hand and buying at the gift stores. She was enjoying herself as much as everyone else too. When she wasn’t doing that, she was taking pictures and videos on her phone. Satoru excitedly tells her to send the videos over to him later. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru’s antics are far from over.

“Look at this!” Satoru exclaims, his voice nearly drowned out by the noise of the park as he rushes over to a nearby cart with trinkets. "I have to get this! It’s a giant plushie version of a panda! It's practically begging me to take it home!"

Before anyone can protest, Satoru’s already handing over wads of cash to the vendor, grinning wildly as he tosses the plushie over his shoulder like it’s no big deal. The panda plush is almost as tall as he is, which makes it even more ridiculous, but Gojo doesn’t seem to care.

Suguru, who has been following along at a slower pace, shakes his head with a smile that’s half exasperation, half fondness. "Satoru, that thing’s the size of a small child. You really think you’re going to carry that around the park?"

Satoru doesn’t miss a beat. "It’ll be my new best friend!" he declares dramatically, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. "You don’t get it, Suguru. It has character. It’ll make the trip ten times more fun!"

By this point, you also needed a break. So you found yourself joining Shoko as the two continued to argue. You and Shoko, who have been happily munching on snacks while observing the aftermath of their ridiculous skirmish, exchange a glance. 

Shoko takes another bite of her cotton candy and grins. "At least they’re both having fun, don’t you think?" she says, her tone dry but amused. "And if you’re being honest, you kind of like having them around like this, don’t you, senpai?"

You blush at her words, suddenly self-conscious. "I... I mean, who doesn’t? They’re both good people. And good natured too!"

Shoko raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint never leaving her eyes. "Right. One’s a man-child who thinks a giant stuffed panda is a necessity and the other arguing about how that isn’t a necessity with the passion of a thousand suns. Hm."

You laugh, a little embarrassed but also entertained by how spot-on she is. "Okay, maybe they’re both a little much sometimes.  But it’s hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm. Satoru’s—well, he’s fun. And Suguru keeps that well–balanced, don’t you think?"

Shoko gives you a knowing look, her smile a little softer now, and you realize she might have noticed something you haven’t quite put into words. You shift uncomfortably, but before you can think too much about it, Satoru comes running back over to you, holding the giant panda up in the air like it’s some sort of victory flag.

"Look at this thing! Isn’t it amazing, senpai?" he says, practically bouncing with excitement. "I’m going to name it Taro. And no, Suguru, you can’t stop me."

Suguru sighs dramatically but can’t quite hide his smile. "I’ve given up at this point." he mutters, taking a french fry from your food box. "Do whatever you want."

You giggle at the dynamic between them. It’s like watching a child and his ever-patient older sibling, and it’s oddly endearing. You’d never had a sibling, but looking at them, you wondered if this is what it was like. 

"Well, Taro looks very... Gojo Satoru coded, don’t you think?" you say, reaching out to pat the plushie’s oversized head. "You two are practically made for each other."

Satoru beams at you, clearly thrilled with your approval. "Right? I knew you’d get it!" He gives the panda a dramatic hug, causing you to laugh even harder.

Meanwhile, Shoko, who's been quietly watching the exchange, takes another bite of her food before leaning toward you with a grin. “So, do you think this is a sign that Gojo Satoru’s never going to grow up?” she asks, a little teasing. “Our very own Peter Pan!”

You laugh and shrug. "I mean, who needs to grow up when you’ve got a giant panda plushie and a whole theme park to play in?"

Shoko nods sagely, as if this is the most reasonable thing in the world. "True. At least it keeps him entertained."

As you continue walking, Satoru and Suguru continue talking animatedly ahead of you, Shoko nudges you gently with her elbow. “But hey, senpai.” she says, her voice a little softer now, “I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s not easy for you. But you’re doing okay.”

The kindness in her voice catches you off guard, and you blink, surprised by the sincerity behind her words. "Thanks, Shoko." you say quietly. "I think I needed this. This moment, today."

“Good.” she says with a small, warm smile. “We all need to have some fun once in a while. Besides, Satoru wouldn’t let you get away without a little chaos. It's his specialty."

You laugh again, the sound light and free, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like you can breathe a little easier. Maybe you’ve been taking life too seriously. Maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to be a little reckless and carefree every once in a while.

And with Satoru pulling you toward yet another ride with Taro under his arm, you realize that you’re actually happy. Maybe this is what you’ve been missing—moments like these. Moments with people who understand you, who bring out your laughter, who make you forget the darker parts of your past, even if just for a day.

As Satoru hands you a churro, his grin wide and infectious, you feel your heart lighten. Maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to enjoy the chaos after all. You and the others continue enjoying the park, the laughter and chaos of Satoru’s little antics here and there providing a comforting backdrop, you find yourself starting to lose track of time. 

The once bright winter sun’s starting to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden light. You’re just about to take another bite of your churro when you hear a familiar voice call out to you from behind.

"Senpai….is that... you?" The voice sounds amused, a little teasing, and you immediately recognize it.

You turn, still holding the churro in your hand, and blink in surprise when you spot two very familiar faces making their way through the crowd. Iori Utahime is the first to wave, her expression a mix of surprise and slight exasperation as she spots you. 

Kusakabe Atsuya is also trailing behind her, looking as stoic as ever but with a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he spots you crowding with the Tokyo trio. You blinked and then smiled widely, waving at them.

"Utahime! Kusakabe!" you say, a little surprised but smiling nonetheless. “What are you guys doing here?”

Utahime smirks, crossing her arms as she gives you an exaggerated look. "I could ask you the same thing, senpai. But I guess it’s not surprising you'd be here.”

“Hm, I still live in Kyoto, no?”

“Yeah, I know. But considering all the hype Gojo Satoru’s been making about it, it’s a different loudness to behold." She tilts her head toward Satoru, who’s still clutching his giant panda plushie, clearly oblivious to the attention it’s drawing.

Satoru perks up at the mention of his name and waves the plushie in the air like a victory flag. "Hey, Utahime! Kusakabe!" he calls, completely unapologetic about the chaos he’s caused. "Come join the party! You guys have to ride the roller coaster. It’s amazing."

Utahime raises an eyebrow but doesn't seem all that surprised by Satoru’s little antics. "I'll pass on the roller coaster, thanks. But the food smells good, so I'll gladly join you for that." She glances at the churro in your hand and adds, "You’ve got the right idea, senpai."

You chuckle, holding up the churro in silent offering, and Utahime eagerly accepts. "Nice to see you’re indulging. It’s pretty good, this churro!" she comments with a small grin, then turns to Kusakabe, who’s silently surveying the park, arms crossed as usual. 

Kusakabe shrugs, clearly indifferent but still managing a rare, approving glance your way. "I’m just here because she dragged me along. She said it’s not good to hide away in the dorms all day.”

“I’m going to say she’s right.” You smiled at him. “You do hide away often, still practicing.”

“You’re not making a scene, are you, Gojo?" Kusakabe asks, his tone flat but carrying just a hint of sarcasm.

Satoru’s grin widens even further, and he walks over to Kusakabe, putting an arm around his shoulders in the most obnoxious, over-the-top way. "Making a scene? Me? Never!" Satoru says, practically vibrating with energy. "I’m just making memories with senpai and my friends, my man. This is what it’s all about!"

Kusakabe doesn’t even flinch, though you catch the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Right, right." he mutters dryly. "Making memories... with a stuff toy named Taro."

Satoru holds the panda up proudly. "Taro is my companion for the day! You can’t argue with that!"

You find yourself laughing, the sight of Satoru’s overenthusiasm, Kusakabe’s dry humor, and Utahime’s grin at the churro making the day feel even more perfect. It’s strange, but for once, you don’t mind the noise, the chaos. It feels... easy. Fun. Like this is where you were always supposed to be. Somehow, it was like the old days again.

"Okay, I’ll admit, senpai." Utahime says after taking a bite of the churro. "This place is pretty fun. I didn’t expect it to be so fun. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you till now.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, smiling. "See? I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Especially on the food.”

“Oh, I think it’s the best part!” She grinned at you.

“Right?” 

“Utahime–senpai!” Ieiri Shoko called out on the other side of the park cross, smiling as she held a shopping bag on her shoulder and another in her hands. 

Utahime blushed and smiled widely, waving back as she came rushing to her. “Shoko, you’re here too!”

You blinked, turning to Suguru. “Does she……”

Suguru laughed at your assumption. “I would have thought you would notice it first, senpai.”

Kusakabe chimes in with his usual deadpan humor, his arms still crossed. "I don’t know about you guys, but I was hoping for a more relaxing day. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind."

"Relaxing?" Satoru repeats with a dramatic gasp, as if the very word offends him. "Who needs relaxation when you’ve got theme park rides, food, and Taro here to make everything better?"

Kusakabe sighed heavily. “I can’t believe my day off is going to be spent like this.”

You smiled at him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t mind, Atsuya.”

///

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT YAWN AS THE PARK GREW DARKER. You can feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones after hours of running around the theme park, riding everything from roller coasters to bumper cars, and indulging in far too many snacks. Your feet are sore, your eyelids are heavy, but there's a sense of contentment that you can’t shake off. Despite the chaos and noise, you’ve enjoyed yourself more than you thought you would.

Utahime, who had been tolerating Satoru’s antics all day, is clearly at her breaking point. She glares at him as he laughs, still carrying around that ridiculous plushie, and mutters something under her breath about "never going anywhere with him again." 

Shoko, ever the voice of reason, is beside her, trying to calm her down, though it’s clear she’s also amused by Utahime’s exasperation. You can think that the supposed crisis was averted when Shoko took her to go shop at more stores with her.

They were holding hands too, which made Utahime feel a little bit more at ease.  Kusakabe had gone off to follow them, when Satoru indulged in more rides. 

Geto Suguru, with his usual composed demeanor, is also enjoying the calm—his serene expression only interrupted by the occasional glance in your direction on his right side, already starting to feel the weariness of the day.

Unlike Gojo Satoru who had a boundless energy in him, you were already too tired to do anything except sit down. You had made your way over there, feeling like your legs might give out at any moment. As you sit down, your exhaustion catches up with you, and you rest your head on the back of the bench for a moment, just to steady yourself.

Without thinking, you lean toward Suguru, resting your head gently on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the soft weight of his presence beside you. It’s comforting. Safe. The world around you fades into a blur as your eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion finally pulling you under.

The sound of Satoru’s voice breaks through the haze of sleepiness. "Hey! Where’s everyone gone off to?!" he calls out, his usual loud, boisterous tone cutting through the air. You can hear the faint sound of him approaching, his footsteps getting closer.

Suddenly, you feel Suguru’s shoulder shift slightly, and you crack open one eye, only to see Satoru was standing in front of you, his mischievous smile wide. He’s about to say something when Suguru, with an almost imperceptible shift in his expression, raises a finger to his lips.

"Shh…." he says, in a voice low enough that only Satoru can hear. “Senpai’s falling asleep.”

Satoru blinks, surprised for a moment, before his smile softens and he looks down at you, still leaning against Suguru with your eyes closed. He crosses his arms, tilting his head, clearly trying to contain a grin. "Look at you two. So cute." Satoru comments quietly, his voice teasing yet soft. “Oh? Is senpai drooling?”

“Shhhh….let senpai sleep already.”

Suguru’s dark purple eyes flick up to meet Satoru’s infinite blue, and there’s a brief, silent exchange between the two of them. Suguru doesn’t even need to say anything. Satoru already knows. He looks down at you again, then back at Gojo with a small, barely perceptible nod.

Satoru, never one to back down from a playful moment, smiles even wider, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. He lets his finger trace against the edges of your hair. He smiles. 

"You know, you look really cute when you're asleep like that, senpai." He leans in closer, but not too close, his voice soft enough so you won’t hear him. “Get some sleep.”

Suguru glances up at Satoru once more, his calm demeanor never shifting, and he simply says, "Satoru, please.." His tone is polite, but there’s an edge of finality to it that even Satoru recognizes.

Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, clearly enjoying this more than he probably should, but he obeys, taking a step back. "Fine, fine." he mutters playfully. "But I swear, if I had a picture of this, I’d have it framed."

You barely hear him, still drifting in and out of sleep. There’s a soft, comforting pressure on your head from where your hair rests against Suguru’s shoulder, and the rhythmic sound of his breathing calms you, making you feel like you don’t need to worry about anything for a while.

You feel a smile tug at your lips, the warmth of their presence wrapping around you like a blanket, and you let yourself drift deeper into the comfort of the moment, surrounded by the quiet affection.

And then it happened.

Satoru looked up as soon as Suguru did.

The soft shift of your sleeping form caught their attention. You stirred slightly against Suguru, instinctively curling in a little tighter, your body seeking warmth as a chill swept through the room.

Suguru’s expression softened, his eyes tracing your movements, but it was Satoru who spoke first, his voice unexpectedly quiet. “It’s snowing.”

The faint glow of the streetlight outside caught the flurry of snowflakes falling from the sky, dusting everything in a soft, peaceful white. The world outside felt miles away from the cozy warmth of your shared space, but the beauty of the moment lingered between them.

Satoru’s usual playful demeanor faded for a moment as he watched you shift again, his gaze softening. It was rare for him to be still, his mind always racing with a thousand thoughts, a thousand plans. But the simplicity of the scene made him pause.

Suguru glanced at the window, then back at you, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while, huh?”

Satoru chuckled under his breath, but there was a softness to it that didn’t quite match his usual carefree tone. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s nice to just... be here. For once.”

The snowfall outside grew heavier, the world outside becoming a blur of white. The silence between the three of you stretched on, comfortable and warm, until Suguru shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you. He adjusted the blanket, making sure you were tucked in tightly.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit.” Suguru murmured. “No need to rush back into the chaos.”

Satoru nodded, his grin returning as he looked at the falling snow. “Yeah, I think we all could use a little more of this.”

You didn’t wake, lost in the warmth of the moment, the sound of the snowfall outside blending with the quiet of the room. For a moment, everything felt like it could stay this way forever—still, serene, and untouchable. They wanted it to.

The night stretched on, and the snow continued to fall. And in that quiet, the weight of everything outside seemed to fade, leaving just the three of them, comfortable in each other's company, wrapped in warmth, surrounded by the calm embrace of winter.

Everything was great, that last Christmas.

The next year, you thought about these memories.

And just as much, you cried too much about it too.

Because you were alone again, without them to lean on.

But you would never know about it now.

[mangosrar]

call it what you want.

matt sturniolo x fem reader. enemies to lovers!!

WHEW YALL HEY. it’s been a while but i’m super excited to be back. love u ❤️‍🩹

warnings: suggestive. arguing

this will be multiple parts!!!!

pt2

"im not a child anymore! i cant move 2 inches without them being on my ass about something" you exclaimed as you paced up and down the living room.

nick sat on the couch, gawking at you as you ranted. you sighed before stopping and pointing a finger at nick.

"and you know what, they dont do this to my brother, nooo he can fuck all the girls he wants but i mention one guy im not even dating and suddenly im going off the rails" nick just stared at you with a questionable expression on his face.

you knew he wouldnt understand, his parents were so lenient, so the fact you were going on a 20 minute tangent about how strict yours were was completely futile and you may as well be speaking in a different language.

you dropped your hands and whined before stomping over to the couch and plopping down next to nick.

"i mean, how could i win nick? they want me to be happy but i wanna be happy with a hot boyfriend" you said as you turned your head to look at him, he just looked down at you with a sympathetic but mischievous look.

"im worried my advice is going to get you in trouble" he cringed. you pulled your head back and furrowed your eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

"i mean... you need to rebel y/n, find someone whos completely foreign to them" you stared at him, thinking for a second.

it wasnt like you wanted to, but the fact that their heads would fall off if you found someone who was the complete opposite of your parents and their expectations, brought you a little bit of complete fucking joy.

it was like a lightbulb moment, your eyes widened, and a cheesy grin pulled at your lips as you practically leaped off of the couch and continued your pacing.

"i need someone who is all mean and mysterious, or maybe a guy who drives a motorbike or plays the drums" you rambled looking at nick for approval but being met with a flat expression on his face.

"seriously y/n?" he questioned.

"whatever im just brainstorming" you waved him off.

"whoever he is needs to be nonchalant, he needs to smoke and drink, maybe dabble in partying every now and again, he needs to have tattoos and long hair. i mean be honest, if you came home with a guy like that, i think your mom would drop dead" he explained, letting out a small laugh before leaning forward slightly.

and as if god himself was listening, matthew sturniolo appeared in the doorway, in all of his long haired and tattood glory, sipping on a can of root beer, watching you intently.

both you and nick snapped your head towards him as he stood there with a stoic expression.

"what do you want weirdo?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

he squinted at you before sticking his hand out besides him in question.

"your in my house y/n. the real question is what do you want" he spat.

truth was you and matt had never gotten along. despite your decade long friendship with his brothers, there was always something about him that you couldnt stand and apparently matt felt the same way towards you, so the two of you started an unspoken hatred for each other one day and it has stood strong ever since.

neither of you were sure why it started, but matt always hated the way you thought you were better than everyone else, how you could never admit when you were in the wrong, or the way your scent stuck to everything so he could always smell you around the house, but mostly he hated the way his cock would jump when you looked up at him with those big doe eyes, even when you were spitting insults at him.

"i want you to stop listening to our conversation and get the fuck out of my face" you bit back, turning to face him and crossing your arms, keeping your hard stare fixed on him.

"please, you love it when i get in your face y/n. and you know what, have a little more compassion, your parents are wonderful people." he scoffed as he took a step towards you, keeping his eyes trained on yours. he was clearly trying to get under your skin, and it was working.

"they dont even like you matt, i wouldnt be so up their ass" you smiled sarcastically. he just laughed before taking another step towards you.

"and i cant stand their bitch of a daughter so were even" he spoke lowly, shooting daggers at you. there was a few seconds of silence where you and matt were just glaring at each other. wordlessly throwing insults and screaming at one another, before nick cleared his throat, causing the bubble around you both to pop.

you and matt turned to look at nick who was standing up from his seat on the couch, with an expression that you couldnt place. you could feel the heat radiating off of matt, in the midst of the bickering you hadnt realized how close he had gotten, you hadnt realized how good he smelt, or how him looking down at you like a disobedient child made you want to drop to your knees there and then.

nick opened his mouth to speak, his eyes jumping from you to his brother, who was stood not even a foot away.

"back to the topic at hand...why dont you date chris?" nick said like it was the most obvious option.

"you cant be serious..." matt trailed off, looking at his brother.

"no way nick, hes like my brother, plus my parents like him" you explained, ignoring matts comment, moving away from him and taking a seat back on the couch, folding your legs up underneath you.

"fake it, be in a fake relationship with him" you werent sure what planet nick was living on, but he was not helping in any way shape or form.

you just rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the realization this was never going to work. there was a pregnant pause, all 3 of you, thinking completely different things, before matt broke the silence.

"ok so let me get this straight, you wanna piss off your parents, and show them your all grown up, by finding a guy in a biker gang..... as a scare tactic?" he asked, sending questioning looks between you and nick.

"not a biker gang matt" nick replied flatly, shaking his head at him.

"so just someone with tattoos, and long hair?" he spoke, placing his drink down on the coffee table and crossing his arms over his chest.

you shrugged and nodded your head at him. why was he so interested.

"so you just wanna use someone, to make your parents mad?" he furrowed his brows, desperately trying to get this right, but you were sure he was trying to make you feel bad so you didnt go through with it, just so you would stay miserable. or so you thought.

"call it what you want matt, i dont care what you think, this is none of your business" you spat.

you watched matts eyes wander from yours to his brothers who had been suspiciously silent. they were exchanging glances, like they were speaking some sort of wordless language, and it was concerning. usually, matt wouldve threw an insult back at you, but his expression didnt even waiver.

pulling your eyes away from matt, you turned to nick with a confused expression, and studdied his face, watching as his eyes lit up and he grinned, before turning to face you with a look in his eye that you couldnt decipher.

"before you say anything, just hear me out"

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[onlinedolly]

cw: incest, p in v, mentions of cum

you already knew he didn’t like him, it didn’t take a lot to read your fathers face these days. he sat in a large chair, overlooking your boyfriend through a pair of readers. you’d went on a date previously, and despite your grown age, your dad still gave you a strict eleven o clock curfew, your boyfriend making it his mission to be in good graces with your father as he drops you off.

“w-well i’ll get going now,” your boyfriend stutters out as he leans down to give you a nervous kiss on the cheek. you can feel your father’s, erwin, eyes bore into the back of your head.

with a slam of the door you turn around with a pout already expecting what’s coming, “he’s an…interesting fella.” erwin speaks out, a edge in his voice.

“you don’t like him,” you pout out, stomping your foot against the ground and crossing your arms across your chest.

“i didn’t say that.” he says nonchalantly, looking back down at the book he’s reading.

“you don’t have too,” you slink into the living room, sprawling out against the couch next to him. “just be honest.”

he looks up from his book, his eyes scanning the expanse of your body before he sets the book on the table, “i don’t approve if that’s what your asking.”

you sigh out, a bit dramatic, as you sprawl yourself out more, “you don’t approve of anyone!” you whine out, but when erwin gives you a stern look you shut up immediately giving him a look back of remorse.

“that’s correct,” he nods his head like you said the most obvious thing in the world, “i don’t think these guys are good enough for you.”

“why not? they’re all nice enough.” you roll your eyes, sitting up with your knees tucked under you.

erwin leans forward at this, elbows resting on his knees as he shrugs, “they’re boys.”

“they’re grown” you state matter of factly, as erwin stands, sitting close next to you as he brushes some hair away from your eyes.

“they’re still boys, baby.” he hums, petting the back of your hair, “i’d only approve of a man.”

he was sitting closer to you, knees knocking together as you gasp at the way he whispers out the last part of his sentence. something about the way he spoke felt dirty, taboo almost as he leans in to place a kiss to your cheek.

“a man?” you whimper out under his touch, thighs clenched together. “like who?”

okay, let’s get this out of the way and say you’ve always been attracted to your father. it was a deep rooted thought that had lived in your brain, how handsome he was, sharp jaw and hooked nose. so with him this close you it made a fire light from deep within you.

he presses another kiss to your temple, running his hand up the curve of your thigh and he whispers in your ear, “someone who gets you baby girl. someone like me.”

it felt like something had burst inside of you, red hot lust, as you looked at erwin. your fathers eyes hooded as he leans into press his lips to the corner of your mouth. this was a long time coming, you’d thought. you weren’t oblivious of the way your father looks at you, up and down regularly taking you in like he was a starved man. his lips felt hot against your skin as he kisses you again, the other corner of your mouth. before finally leaning in and placing a kiss to your lips.

the kiss was soft and hot, an immediate reaction as you kiss him back with passion. the kiss is deep, immediate tongue as teeth clink together. you run your fingers through your fathers hair, messing up the usual gelled style. he works his way down from your lips to your neck, open mouthed as you felt his drool wet your neck.

“be a good thing and lay down.” he speaks, moving your body so your sprawled back on the couch and he climbs over you, placing his leg between yours making them part. “i’ve needed this for so long.” he speaks honestly, leaning down to kiss from your neck to your collarbone.

“dad—“ you gasp out, legs spreading even wider as you hear his belt unbuckle. his cock springs out and it’s large and heavy as it hits against your thigh and you almost mewl looking at it.

unbeknownst to your father you weren’t a virgin, but your never seen anything this big. you shuddered, not sure how you would take it all. to that he laughs, running his hand through your hair as he harshly grips your face between his larger hand.

“don’t pretend to be scared now baby, i know what little whores like you get up too.” he laughs and you look at him in disbelief. whore? so he knew. this whole time. you shudder at the thought of him knowing, how your late nights out at a friends or after school activities were facades he saw right through. he brought his hand down to push your shorts and your panties to the side, relishing in the slick covering your bare cunt.

before you know it, with no prep work, he’s pushing himself inside of you. it’s ripping you open as he bullies himself inside your cunt, your drooling around him as he bottoms out inside you with a grunt.

“better then i ever imagined baby— fuck.” he moans, beginning a slow pace, nice enough to get you used to him.

“needed you so long, dad.” you’re already rambling out, blissed in the way your walls form around him.

“did ya baby? is that why you brought them home? those—“ he thrusts hard then, enough to send a yelp out of you. “boys.” he says it as if it’s a fact, as if the reason you entertained anyone of the male sex was to curb your desire for him, and you suppose that’s not inherently untrue, especially when your moaning with his cock ramming into you at a rough pace.

he was close to cumming, you could tell in the way his body twitched and you panted at the thought of him cumming inside you. he answers your prayers, stuttering his hips as he feels you with seed. it sends you into your own orgasm, clenching around him as your body shakes.

he’s grunting, howling like an animal as he fills you up, it feels endless until he stops and he’s pulling out of you. placing a kiss to your forehead, “no more boys, hm?”