#barely drawn anything this week
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Uuuuurgh. Yes. Blugh. Uuuurgh.
Art has been a bit non-existent from me lately due to a combination of a) deciding I was going to dunk my entire head in NaNoWriMo once more, and b) also coming down with an absolutely awful cold this week that has rendered me more sneeze than person. I'm still here, still floating about, and will make an art of some description happen in the not too distant future.
#personal#uuuugh#bluuuuugh#i am ill#nanowrimo 2023#it's sneezin' season#barely drawn anything this week#at about 47% of my word goal though eyyyy
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Oh circus children my beloveds,,
(Please click for better quality!!)
#drag's art#helluva boss#helluva boss blitzo#helluva boss fizzarolli#helluva boss barbie wire#blitzo#fizzarolli#barbie wire#i would do anything for them like actually đ#I've barely drawn for a week and did all of these in one go whoops
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rootbound
#trigun#trigun stampede#vash the stampede#meryl stryfe#I will now be passing away#I;ve barely drawn anything else this week. I wake up I work on this I go to bed#clip studio was throwing fits every time I tried to save
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how I felt when I got that outfit as link
#zelda#zelda tears of the kingdom#spoilers#i hope people who are avoiding spoilers can mute this#i dont know how tumblr muting works#link#tauro#fell into totk hole for 3 weeks#have barely drawn anything#also completed all the shrines#my art#totk#the legend of zelda
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answer the question locus
#rvb#red vs blue#sam ortez#locus#mine#*24#im trying to post more art again consistently. im getting out of the pit!!#(it might not seem like it but i have barely drawn anything the past 2 weeks. not even sketches lol)
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Self indulgence Sunday
#Iâm so sorry for BOMBARDING yâall with mark biddies#Iâve barely drawn anything in weeks and its all coming out at once#mark beaks#ducktales 2017#ducktales fanart#ducktales#artists on tumblr#fan art
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Day 4: Grief
@mcyt-yuri-week
#Sparrow scribbles#dsmp fanart#puffychu#augdhdhdhdhdh#Good grief Iâve barely drawn anything happy this week#This is more of a thumbnail than actual art piece#Might redo l8r might just delete#dsmpshipping#mcytyuriweekvalentines
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I get House actually bc if I fumbled two baddies like this I'd become a dictator too
#ive barely drawn anything in WEEKS send help#save me women. women. women save me#the dresses are based off one scene in gentleman prefer blondes btw#i almost drew marilyn in THE marilyn monroe dress but tbh i like the orange one better#anyways#jane fnv#marilyn fnv#fnv#my art#fallout new vegas#fallout#fallout fanart
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love ur art. miss ur art. Get super excited whenever u post because u inspire me to actually draw/practice. Keep up the good work. I wish the best in life for u
thank you anon i also miss my art
#asks#Anonymous#guy who's barely drawn anything the past few months#IM ACTIVELY TRYING TO SURVIVE A HEATSTROKE RN#anyway hope u have an awesome week anon
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would you guys forgive me if i made animation meme era comedy animatic redraws of the ferri fun circus
#Like classic ones. the one ive been cooking is the who broke it one .....#i have been executive dysfunctioning so fucking bad lately ive barely drawn anything in the last few weeks Bluhhh
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me: I'm literally not depressed I'm just nothing right now
the little symptom checker in my brain: *scribbling on note paper* anhedonia
#I realised one of the reasons though#I literally have not written ANYTHING creative or drawn or ANYTHING for at least two weeks#and I've barely been reading either#I lose touch of emotions when I'm not translating them into fiction or reading I think#but yeah it's not in a depression way at all that's markedly different#this is just Nothing#I suspect I'm mildly dissociating at all times right now because of sickness. this happens. it's fine#sickness I've undoubtedly caused myself but anywayyyyye
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i am home from my trip âŠ. but i have 2 exams + a project due this week as well as ANOTHER TRIP iâm going on this weekend bc a friend of mine is getting married âŠâŠ also my best friend gave me whatever bug she caught so i woke up with a sore throat. weâre thriving rn/s anyway uh art may still kinda be slow apologies in advance
#i still want to try to make myself keep drawing bc iâve barely drawn anything since i left#and the longer i go w/o drawing the easier it is for me to get into an art block#so iâm gonna try to make time for some sketches this week
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Me, who literally just sweeps for a living: ah nice the weekend I can rest and hopefully engage in some hobbies
Mom, who spends all day almost every day at home just sitting on her phone: could you sweep the apartment?
#like#yeah sweeping used to bw my favorite chore#back when I was the one staying at home and mom was the one paying the bills#and I hadn't spent Months sweeping for several hours every weekday#im literallt struggling with my JOB cause ive started Hating sweeping#im reaching sweep burnout#on top of it making my chronic pain worse#she'll do like the bare minimum while me and my bro are working and then give us a list of chores to do on our days off#we're paying the bills we're paying for food we're paying for anything she buys herself on a fucking whim#i literally spent five hundred dollars on Her trip to a music festival last month#im SLEEPING IN A CLOSET so she can have a bedroom#LITERALLY#im so tired and im wearing thin#i havent written or seriously drawn in ages#i haven't watched my shows or read new books#i just wake up and try desperately to have enough energy to go to work and then i come home and lose myself for the rest of the day#weekends are torn between resting to have more energy next week so hopefully itll be better or using the time to do the rhings i love
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the consequence of us
dbf! joel miller x female reader
summary: joel broke off your affair two weeks ago, and now he realises heâs made a grave mistake.
word count: 3.4K
content warning: age gap, joel is old enough to be her dad, reader is mid twenties but unspecified. Reader has cellulite, mentions of power play, Joelâs a bit of a creep lmao, possessive, obsessive behaviour, use of baby girl & daddy dynamic. Collaring, male masterbation, p in v, raw fucking, creampie, sorta rough sex, public sex, submission. (no outbreak)
Everyone has felt the eerie sensation once in their lifetime, the paranoid feeling of being stared at; only this time, you know you're being stared at. Everytime you bend down to pick up a discarded beer can off your fathers perfectly mowed lawn, with each soft handed gesture on one of your fathers older friends arms, every laugh that seemed a little too real.
But it was your intention, for him to notice you. Perhaps to show him that you could indeed live without him, despite the fact that two weeks ago, on his front porch you'd been weeping, grasping onto him as you beg him not to break things off with you.
The shameful memory of snot and tears mingling as you sobbed on your knees for another chance, like youâd even done anything wrong. Clinging onto the small silver chain he'd gifted you - a subtle everyday collar, one heâd promised with the intention of making you his, properly.
That someday he would make you his girl officially.
This evening, it seemed as though that girl had never existed, maybe it was all a figment of his imagination, of how he saw you, and wanted you to be. A sweet little girl dependent on him.
Joel had managed with teeth scraping against his bottom lip that this was for the best, that a sweet girl like you didn't need him invading your personal life, or that this was wrong, for a man twenty years older than youâlet alone the fact that he was your fathers best friend.
Now as he watches you standing next to your fathers friends, with a middle aged woman on his arm, he feels sick to his stomach. You should be doing this with him, the shameless flirting, touching and sneakily bending over for him when no one else seemed to notice. It's like now, you didn't care who saw. Any attention was yours for the taking, and that repulsed joel.
The sweet girl he knew wasn't some attention starved daddies girl dying to fuck every single one of his colleagues and friends, Joel was special, had been.
What was this then, revenge? An attempt to outshine the woman he had on his arm that was closer to sixty than he was. No doubt, his dateâSue. She was beautiful, but she was too outgoing, too loud, too chatty. She drank too many glasses of wine and clung onto joel like he was some kind of prized show dog. Much like that mangy purse mutt she had at her house. Joel didn't belong with Sue, in her middle class house and aggressive teacup chihuahua.
The only place he had ever felt himself belong was with you, a subservient, submissive and sweet girl, did anything Joel had ever asked, found pleasure in being submissive. Maybe he did ruin you, turned you into some kind of modern day sexually aware woman that knew that she was too good for him anymore.
Once again, you're bending over to reach into the large cooler in your fathers shed not bothering to pull down your dress, Joel's eyes were drawn to the sight like a hound. He felt himself growing stiff at the sight of your asscheeks barely covered by the tight dress, each curve, hill and cellulite dimple could be seen leaving nothing to the imagination besides one thing.
What colour panties were you wearing?
âExcuse me a moment, won't you?â He utters to sue under his breath, prying her clinging arm off of his own and approaching you across the lawn, swerving between guests. Before he could reach you, you've left the shed, three cans of drink in hand as you hand them out to your father and two of his friends.
Joel scowls, snatching a cold can out of the cooler and watching you shamelessly across the front yard. He couldn't stop staring at you, your legs, the way your hips swing with every step. It was a fucking nightmare knowing that he had done this, created this confident vixen hell bent on torturing him. He couldn't grab at you, swiftly text you to steal you away for a few minutes for a quickie in the bathroom.
He had ended this, told you it was for good, for real this time.
You know he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of you, and finding your stomach, you approach his date later on in the evening after she's had a few drinks and is standing by her lonesome. âHi, we haven't met, have we? You're Susan?â
The older woman greets you with a look of complete indifference, a non subtle judging stare in her olden glassy eyes as she gives you a look up and down. âSue, actually, and you are?â
You reply with your name, giving her a sickly sweet and fake smile, standing tall and rolling your shoulders backwards, ready to cause some strife for the old hag. âSo.. you're Joelâs.. what exactly..?â
The disbelief in your tone had the woman feeling insulted, and the stiff look of her face gave that away. She seemed incredibly insecure, you noticed the way she had clung onto Joel since they got here. âWeâve been talking for a while, Iâve heard he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend soon.â
A small snort escapes your nose, and before the woman could drill into you about your reaction..
âOh you know.. He's just not that good with relationships you know? Totally a ladies man, he likes âem youngâor younger than you, anyway. So don't hope too much that Joel even likes you at all..anyway, it was so lovely meeting you.â
You hear the woman huff loudly as you abruptly turn and walk away, knowing that you caused an absolute shit fire for Joel to deal with tonight, but you didn't expect Sue to start screaming at Joel the moment you walked away from her.
He sends a glare to you, across the yard, his eyes dark and furious. You were the cause of this, he knew it. As Sue screams at him, he drags her away, down the street.
It's a while before Joel returns, but he comes back alone, explaining to your father what happened. âShe's having a moment, probably menopause or something.â
That was hilarious to you, and Joel catches you laughing, beelining straight to you. He grabs your hand, which you shake off, and he doesn't attempt to make another effort to grab you.
âThe hell was that? Are you gonna start causing issues for me now?â
With a faux innocent tilt of your head you shrug your shoulders. âI'm sorry, I was just being honest with her, is honesty a problem now, Mr Miller?â
He shouldn't have gotten hard over such a minor thing, being called Mr Miller instead of Joel, that doe-ish look in your eyes as you look up at him, he cant help the stiffness in his jeans return again. Of course you notice the tension, the way he becomes uncomfortable, but you don't dignify him by looking at the thick bulge in his pants, not bothering to show any interest at all.
That.. is what bothers Joel the most. Your disinterest.
His eyes are glued to your every step as you walk away, he subtly palms himself through his jeans and makes his way inside of the house with the intent to wash his face and try to calm down the raging hardness of his cock, but when he smells your perfume in the bathroom.. He loses any sense of control he thought he had.
It was the same perfume you'd spritzed onto your skin before sneaking out to see him all those times, the floral scent lingering on your warm velvety neck. He locks the bathroom door behind him, looking at himself in the mirror. âGet a grip, Miller. She's done with you, you're done with her.â
He quickly contradicts his hollow whisper as he picks up a pair of used black panties on the top of the laundry basket, ones he knew were yours, the soft lace g-string, with a silver love heart on the front, covered in small diamonds, ones he had pulled to the side more times to fuck your hole than he could remember.
It's a desperate and shameful act, he knows, but doesnât care. He desperately unzips his jeans and pulls out his thick, weeping cock from his jeans, stroking desperately. The other hand holds your panties and he looks at himself as he brings the lace material to his nose and smells it. They're used, and he pulls his cock faster as he shoves the material further into his face, a wet patch on your panties is all he can feel.
The smell of you has him groaning into the lace, desperately fisting his cock faster than he ever had. His knees buckle and he whimpers quietly as he starts sucking on the delicious soaking crotch of your panties as he doubles over the sink and spills a thick load, shooting across the basin.
Joel's sweating, taking one last inhale of your panties, before tossing them back into the laundry hamper, stuffing his softening cock into his jeans before turning on the tap to wash away any evidence of the violating act. He cups his hands under the running water and splashes some onto his face.
As he swings the bathroom door open, you're standing there with a shit eating grin. âAll good in there?â
âFine,â he utters, wondering if you knew, he couldn't meet your gaze after what heâd just done.
Fuck, you were evil for making him like this.
By midnight, everyone had gone home, stumbled off down the cul de sac to their houses, but you don't see Joel leave, which is strange. With your father inside of the house, and the lights shut off, you sneak out of the yard with your phone in hand, texting your friend with the intention of going to her house to drink, walking down the pathway down the street to where your car is parked.
Oblivious, you reach your car and are shocked to see Joel, leaning against the driver's side door. âWhere do you think youâre going?â The growl sends a shiver up your spine, a feeling you miss.
âOut,â Joel towers over you as he stands upright, no longer leaning against your car.
âLike hell you are.â There's an edge of possessiveness to his tone, and the way he stands over you. âYou need to explain yourself, all that shit you've been doing tonight.â
âI don't have to explain shitââ he cuts you off, his hand shoots out quickly to grab onto your hand. But you react without thinking and slap him.
His eyes snap shut from the force of your hand on his cheek, your hand now stinging from the contact. When he opens his eyes, his gaze is darker than before. He wraps his arms around your waist, grabbing a hold of you as he shoves you roughly against the side of your car door, you wince as your back makes contact with the cold metal. He stands flush against you, whispering in your ear as he cranes his neck downward.
âCareful. You shouldn't start somethingâ you can't finish baby girl.â
âIâm not your baby girl.â
God-if only you knew how much that struck a nerve within him. âDon't start that.â His voice is harsh, fingers digging tighter into the soft flesh of your chin.
âYou're nothing to me.â You insist.
He bit back, his temper flailing. âYeah? You really tryinâ to convince me that I ain't anythinâ to you, baby girl? That you don't care no more?â His thumb grips your chin harshly, jolting your neck up to look into his eyes.
There's a challenging look in your eyes, defiance, no sign of the devotion or submission he's so used to with you, he really has ruined you.
âMove Joel.â
He knew if he could just manage to get a peep out of you, a small whine or a moan out of you, that he could draw you back into him. His hand trails downward to your nipples, pinching softly, he knew it was such a sensitive area for you, which usually had your back arching.
You should have reacted, whimpered and squirmed or let out a small whine from those pretty lips that he was so used to hearing when he touched you like this. But you gave him nothing, no reaction at all, how did he let this happen? âWhy the hell are you beinâ like this? Why are you fightinââ me so hard?â
âBecause I realised something, Joel.â Stepping forward, you bring your hand down to his belt, grabbing onto the buckle.
âAnd what is it that you think you have figured out?â
âItâs you who needs me.â
He couldn't even deny it, how his stomach felt sick at the thought of you knowing. That somehow you knew that this went beyond physical for him too. When he's silent, you roughly shove him away by the buckle of his belt. Stumbling a few feet back, he hated how weak he felt right now.
âYouâre old, Joel. You love how it feels to have someone so much younger to pine over you, that's why things won't last with that old cunt, sue. Part of you needs me, joel, that why you were so fucking insistent on pushing me away.â
He freezes at your observation, words that are sharp, and true. Gritting his teeth, with his chest rising and falling, all he could do was breathe heavily.
âBut me? I have options, time too. To find someone who would be proud to show me off. But you won't, youâre scared Joel, and it's because you're insecure.â
He feared this, thinking about you with men your own age, how they threw themselves at you, fit and capable of taking you out and giving you everything you ever wanted. Joel was selfish for wanting you all to himself, for craving you, obsessing and unable to let you move on. Because as long as even a part of you still wanted him, he was worth something. The grey hairs didn't matter, nor did his softening belly or the developing ache in his worn knees.
He hated how much he needed you.
You grip his chin, the salt and pepper scruff tickles your palm. Forcing him to look at you. âSay it Joel.â
His entire body tenses as you try to force the admission out of him, try to cut him open and deflower his tightly wound emotions. âStop it.â He growls weakly, voice strained.
âAdmit it!â You shout at him.
Every part of him begged for him to let go of this stubborn defiance and tell you how he felt, that he felt afraid, even though all he'd known was keeping you at arm's length. âStop!â
With another harsh shove, you growl. âJust admit it!â
âAdmit what? That I'm insecure, that Iâm afraid of losing you? That every moment all I can think about is you, how much I fucking love you? What are you tryinâ to get out of me, huh?â
As his chest heaves, he can't help spilling out how he felt now, you broke the dam. âI worry that you'll find some other man to love you, touch you. That you'll come to your senses and realise you need someone your own age who is better able to take care of you.â
âSo you broke my heart? That's how you face those fears?â
âThe hell was I supposed to do?â With a defensive snap, he hated the weakness he felt now that youâd expelled the truth.
When you don't have an answer Joel is becoming more desperate for you to feel something for him, to let him know that there's still some space in your heart for him after all hed done.âBaby girl..â he whimpers, voice cracking with emotion..
âDonât,â you protest weakly.
Joel realises that you donât need him like this, all self doubting, you need your daddy.
He cages your body between his own and the car. âToo damn bad, because Iâm touchin you, you ainât rejectinâ me, you ain't gonna ignore me.â He leans his head down to your level. âAnd you sure as shit aint ever fucking leavinâ me.â
As he slams his hips against yours, finally a pathetically small whimper leaves your lips.
There it was, you were giving into him, that pretty sound he hadn't heard from you in weeks. âThere's my pretty girl,â he whispers against the soft flesh of your neck.
âDon't fight me baby girl..â his lips on your neck have your back arching away from the car, leaning flush against Joelâs chest, but he doesn't want you to have any semblance of control. Roughly, he spins you around and shoves your body against the car, his chest flush against your back.
His hands unzip his jeans, pulling out his thick cock for a second time this evening, lifting your dress up to find you weren't wearing any panties at all, his eyes barely able to process the sight of your bare sopping cunt under the haphazard dim street light. âYou knew what you were doinâ to me baby, wearing this tight dress and no panties.â
The palm of his hand smacks your wet lips, using the slick to coat his cock as he pumps it a few times.
His cock is thicker than you remember and you whine at the protrusion, forcing his cock inside of you as he forces you against the side of your car. A yelp leaves your lips and he quickly covers your mouth with his large hand. âShh baby girl.. Daddy is gonna take you in the middle of the street, as a punishment for your actions. Don't want nobody to hear, do we?â
Frantically, you shake your head no, and he shakily praises you. âThat's a good girl.â
Without any warning at all, he slams his cock into you, pushing your face into the car as he rams into you ferociously, fucking into you so deep that your eyesight starts to blur. âThink you can leave me? No body ainât ever gonna fuck you like I do, baby girl.â
You squeal into his hand as he fucks you harder than he ever had, proving to you and himself that he was worthy of you. As your legs begin to tremble, Joel brings his other hand to pinch your nipple, and the orgasm crashes over you in waves, the feeling is intense and your body is limp between Joel and the car. Tears leave your eyes as your cunt clenches around Joel.
Joel's muttering under his breath. âThat's it baby.. Make daddy feel so good. I'll kill anyone if they ever try to take you away.â
His thick cock pushes so deep inside of you for a final time as the tip twitches and he cums inside of you. Growling into your ear as his forehead rests on your shoulder.
Hesitant to pull out, he thrusts a few more times into you, making sure most of his cum stays inside you.
Pulling your dress down, he stuffs his cock back into his jeans and turns you around, wiping the steady tears off your cheeks. âNow go on back inside, alright? Weâre going on a date tomorrow, a real one. Take you to a fancy place where weâll sit down anâ eat. Just us. Daddy ainât gonna leave you again, so that means you start wearinâ your collar again.â
Numbly, you nod, unable to form coherent words after the encounter. Pleased, he kisses your forehead, then gives your ass a light pat to send you on your way back inside your house. He stalks you down the street, making sure you get home safely, before retreating into his own house.
He watches you from his bedroom window as you turn on the dim lamp, and put on your silver collar just as heâd asked. He had his baby back, hell would freeze over before anything came between you, if your father found out.. Joel would handle him when it came to that.
No matter what that entails.
#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal x you#possessive joel miller#stalker joel miller
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Sun Eats Moon
Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader
Word count: 9.1k
Part two: Earth Kills Moon
Part three: Moon Starves Sun
Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.
(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)
You wanted to quit the second you read the name.Â
You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.Â
It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.Â
You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?
It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.Â
"Is everything alright?"Â
You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.Â
Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."Â
The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.Â
He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.Â
Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.Â
It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.Â
You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.Â
He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.Â
"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."
His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.Â
Nothing.Â
Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.Â
"I look forward to working with all of you."Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
đ€
If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.Â
He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.Â
But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.Â
Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.Â
"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.
Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.Â
"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"Â
"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."Â
You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.Â
đ€
The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.Â
You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.Â
He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.Â
You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.Â
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.Â
Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.Â
đ€
You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.
Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.
He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.Â
You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.Â
It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.Â
"What?" Because you must have misheard him.Â
"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."Â
You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.Â
You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.Â
"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.Â
He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.Â
Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.Â
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.Â
đ€
It was something minuscule.Â
Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.Â
"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector,"Â Higuruma says, over whiskey.Â
The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.Â
"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."Â
He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."Â
When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.Â
Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.Â
Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.Â
Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.Â
Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.Â
He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.Â
You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.Â
"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-
"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"Â
Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.Â
The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.Â
When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.Â
đ€
You don't have proof it was him.Â
It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.Â
But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.Â
In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.Â
At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.
There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.
Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.Â
You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.
Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.
Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.Â
âAre you hurt?â Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.
You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.
âThat's good,â he says anyway.
You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.Â
You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.
âTake my advice,â he says just before he leaves, âgive in.â
He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.Â
âIt'll only get worse from here if you don't.â
Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.
You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.Â
Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.
Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.
Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.Â
You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.Â
It's worse than anything you could think of.Â
Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?Â
This wasn't bullying.Â
This was abuse.Â
Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.
You were so tired.Â
Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.Â
"Why?"Â
Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.Â
"Get lost."Â
They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.Â
"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.Â
"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"Â
It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.Â
"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"Â
You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.Â
"Anything, right?"Â
You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.Â
"Get on your knees."Â
You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.Â
"I-I-Gojo you-"Â
"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"Â
He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.Â
To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.Â
You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.Â
"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.Â
"Gojo I-"Â
"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."Â
You look down at the grass. Green, soft.Â
"Satoru."Â
His eyes flash in satisfaction.Â
"Open up, pretty girl."Â
The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.Â
You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.Â
"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.Â
"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"Â
If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.Â
"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.Â
You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.Â
"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."Â
But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.Â
"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"Â
If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.Â
He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.Â
He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.Â
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.Â
So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.Â
"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."Â
His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.Â
(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)
"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."Â
 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.Â
"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.Â
"My laptop...it's broken."Â
You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.Â
Satoru only scoffs.
âthat old thing?â You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.Â
(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)
âI'll just get you a new one, baby.â
He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.Â
The sunset is pretty today.Â
đ€
It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.Â
You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.Â
"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"Â
You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.Â
"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."Â
She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.Â
"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.Â
Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.Â
"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."Â
Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.Â
Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.Â
You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-
"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.Â
The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.Â
It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.Â
đ€
By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.Â
You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.Â
Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.Â
He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.Â
"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.Â
"Thank-"Â
"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."Â
He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.Â
There are theories that the Moon once had color.Â
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.Â
When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.Â
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.Â
Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.Â
You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.Â
Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.Â
"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"Â
You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.Â
You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.Â
"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."
On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.Â
Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.Â
"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.Â
You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.Â
He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.Â
Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.Â
"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."Â
He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-Â
Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.Â
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.Â
He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.
You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.Â
Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.Â
"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"Â
He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.Â
"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.Â
You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.Â
"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "âwould do anything for you, pretty girl."Â
He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.
You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.Â
"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.Â
"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your âToru's right here. Just where you need him."Â
His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.Â
"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.Â
"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.Â
You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.Â
You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.Â
"I love you."Â
You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.
"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.Â
Fuck three weeks.Â
You needed to get out, now.Â
đ€
The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.Â
His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.Â
Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.Â
Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.Â
And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.Â
His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.Â
"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"Â
His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.Â
The door shuts with a click.Â
"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.Â
You take one back. He puts his hands up.Â
"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"Â
He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.Â
"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.Â
He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.Â
When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.Â
"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."Â
"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.Â
"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.Â
He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.Â
"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."Â
 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.Â
You go to move.Â
Satoru's faster.Â
Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.Â
"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.Â
It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.Â
"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"Â
"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.Â
You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.Â
Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.Â
When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.Â
You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.Â
"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."Â
He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.Â
"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.
 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.Â
"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."Â
"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.Â
"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.Â
"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.Â
"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"Â
His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.Â
He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.Â
Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.Â
"That's-"
"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.Â
He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.Â
"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.Â
It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.Â
"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.Â
Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.Â
Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.Â
He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.Â
"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"Â
You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.Â
"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."Â
You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.Â
Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.Â
It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.Â
"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.Â
"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."Â
"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"Â
"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."
"No-I-I-can't-"Â
He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.Â
"I'll make sure it takes this time too."Â
Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.Â
He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.Â
You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.Â
He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.Â
"I love you."Â
You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.
Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.Â
"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."Â
"Not ever again."
There are theories that the Moon once had color.Â
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.Â
If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.Â
How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.Â
#yandere jjk#yandere#yandere gojo satoru#dark content#dark jjk#dark gojo satoru#x reader#gojo satoru#reader insert#afab reader#bullying#harassment#forced relationship#tw: dubcon#tw:noncon
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âËâżË° rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader reevaluate their living situation now that sheâs carrying a little baby in her tummy.
warnings: babydaddy!rafe, pregnancy, soooo much fluff, crying (mostly happy tears! no worries), rafe is so reassuring :(
a/n: introducing rafeâs condo to my blog.. but tanneyhill will forever be my go-to :( also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the second tag of this post: ââËâč⥠pogue!sweetheart!reader & babydaddy!rafeâ
âwhy do you look so sad, baby?â rafe joined you outside, bringing you a cold glass of water as he urged you to sit down on his lap. you were growing teary-eyed again, your gaze falling on the pink and white camper in front of you. taking a small sip, rafe held onto the glass for you while you wiped at your tear stained cheeks. âitâs just,â you sniffled, âi know we canât raise a baby here, but this little thingâ itâs all iâve ever known..â you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. rafe studied you for a moment, stroking the side of your face.
âiâve been meaning to talk about that actually,â rafe cleared his throat, âwhat if we didnât go house hunting?â his words drew your attention, a hum falling from your lips. âand stay here? i would love that,â you shook your head, âbut i know itâs for the best. we barely fit in there ourselves.â rafe laughed. âyeah, i know.. someone is always bumping their head when we have sex.â your cheeks heated as you slapped his arm playfully. âwell to be fair, it was just me in there before you came along,â you sighed, âi canât even imagine that now.â you pecked his cheek.
âat first, i thought maybe we could check out some houses on figure eight..â your eyes widened, your lips parting to reject his suggestion. âbut,â rafe interjected, âi know thatâs not really your scene.â he reassured you. âso i want to propose something else,â both of you looked at each other, âiâve been working on this blueprint, mâthinking we just get our house built out here. you could design the kitchen however you want, whatever would be best for you and your baking, we can put the nursery together, do the whole thing yâknow. go the whole nine yards.â you swallowed thickly, tears pricking your eyes.
âyou have a blueprint?â you smiled, your vision becoming blurry as rafe nodded. âyeah, you wanna see?â you whispered a âyes, please!â before he guided you inside. he reached for a spot you couldnât reach in your cabinet, unraveling the blueprint in question. âsee, right here? i thought youâd like the kitchen to have big window facing the backyard, oh, and right here!â he pointed a finger, âwe could have shelves built into the walls for the babyâs room, we could even have a reading nook for bedtime stories..â your heart felt so full right now, you swore it could burst at the seams.
âwhatâs this empty space right here in the backyard?â you held up the paper, pointing to a spot where a little white heart was drawn. â..that would be where your camper goes.â your head shot in his direction, your eyebrows knitting in confusion. âwhat do you mean?â you put the blueprint down, turning around while he caged you between his arms. âi think we should build the house just right out front, you donât have to move anything, relocate the camper, none of that. i could start getting the brush cleared out as soon as next week.â you blinked, your brain trying its best to piece everything together.
âyou thought of all of this in the two weeks since we found out?â your hands snaked up his chest until your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe embraced you, his eyes shutting at the sweet scent of your perfume. âi told you, you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. iâm taking care of everything.â you breathed him in, both of you rocking softly as the wind chimes sung outside in the light breeze. you two stayed in a comfortable silence, the image of watching the sunset together on the porch of your own house with a baby on your hip flooded both of your minds.
âitâs perfect.â you looked up at him, smiling when he pecked the tip of your nose. âthe three of us, huh?â rafe loved the way that sounded rolling off of his tongue. âmhmm,â you let out a shaky breath, âthe three of us.â
#â€ïžâ âč works#âËâč⥠rafe#âËâč⥠babydaddy!rafe#âËâč⥠pogue!sweetheart!reader#âËâč⥠pogue!sweetheart!reader & babydaddy!rafe#outer banks#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#rafe outer banks#obx#rafe obx#obx smut#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine
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