#because he can't love a human forever

[cosmic-chelonian]

The fact that there are so many lore inconsistencies in Dr Who is sometimes a good thing actually because it means I feel justified in having headcanons that vastly and grossly contradict show canon. If the writers can ignore things they don't like why can't I.

[doverstar]

actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

Very cool and not heartbreaking at all for the PJO show to emphasize that Percy is an outsider not only because he's new to the whole demigod thing, but also because he doesn't know the rules of being a traumatized kid with all the daddy/mommy issues possible

[astralhope]

I love how Astral can be the most majestic, beautiful, ethereal person in the universe and in the same page...

... be the most silly guy.

Bonus:

Bonus 2, because he's just the cutest:

[lenaellsi]

if i have to read any variation of the sentiment "crowley doesn't care about the world, he only cares about himself and aziraphale" with my only human eyes ever again i will not be responsible for my actions

[sysig]

Promises promises (Patreon)

[softquietsteadylove]

I know you said you don’t love writing thenamesh as actual biological parents (totally respect that and agree, I especially agree that Thena probably wouldn’t be the most willing mother (although I live and die for TMTL AU)) ANYWAY! would you possibly be interesting in writing something where Thenamesh accidentally stumble into parenthood without meaning to?? Maybe a little orphan child in ancient times won’t leave them alone and they end up raising them? (probably begrudgingly on Thena’s part to begin with but she’s a secret softie especially when Gil is smitten and we all know it). No worries if you don’t wanna write something like that, just something I was thinking about!

Thena sighed, "I know you're there."

She didn't receive a reply, and she knew she wouldn't. She stood from where she had been - entirely against her wishes but at Ajak's behest - reviewing some of the senate's requests. The various war orders and border reports were draining her.

She stepped down towards the door of the room, the skirts of her white toga trailing behind her. She spoke again, "orphan."

He responded to more than that, of course. Sersi thought it was cruel of her to address a child that way, but he responded to it. A small head of blonde peeked out from behind one of the larger vases.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him with an expectant tone. She raised her chin to further look down upon the boy, "you know better than to enter the temple of Athena without permission."

Usually, she was loath to bring up the title of Athena in any way. But if she need be stuck with it, she could make use of it.

The boy shuffled out, his hands clasped in front of the brown burlap of his tunic. "I was looking for Gilgamesh."

The boy was positively enchanted by her Champion. Plenty were, of course, but this boy idolised Gilgamesh and the very ground upon which he walked. And Gil was equally charmed by the small child. She thought he entertained his obsession entirely too much.

But the boy enjoyed trailing behind Gilgamesh when he was walking between the forge and the acropolis, or watching him train fighters in the arenas, or even when he was in the orchards gathering fruit.

"Why do you think he is here?" Thena fixed her eyes on the boy. Most grown men would be sensible enough to cower, but the child stepped even closer to her.

He glanced behind him a few times.

Thena let out another breath. She was not a caretaker, she had no business with the boy steps away from clinging to her. But she unfolded her arms and knelt down to see him better. Children's heads were so small. "Speak."

"The guards," the child twisted his lips. "They tell me not to bother the gods."

They also were no gods of old, at least not how Athens imagined them to be. But Thena had no qualms letting them think that if it meant them keeping their distance, either.

"And if they are correct to tell you these things?" she raised her eyebrows. But the boy shuffled even closer to her. She sighed, "what did you do?"

This child was no angel, just like they were no gods. He liked getting into trouble, challenging those twice his size, proclaiming that he would be a fierce warrior someday. And sometimes that 'challenge' was him running up to someone and whacking them with his only possession: a toy sword, fashioned from wood (clumsily, by his own hand).

"They were being cruel," he spoke in defense of himself. His hands left his tunic to clench into tiny little righteous fists. "They were laughing at old man Socrates! One even threw his apple at him!"

Thena felt her hackles raise. She had no business policing humans; they were of no concern to her. But what did bother her was senseless cruelty to those more vulnerable than the strong. "And you decided to do something about this."

The boy's small shoulders fell again, though. "I told them I challenged them to a duel."

Thena tilted her head. His tunic was still fastened above his trousers with a rope, but there was no toy sword. "Where is-"

He sniffled, trying not to let his tears fall, "they took it and broke it in half."

That was why he had run to her. Well, he had been seeking Gilgamesh's comfort, foremost. But he had also known that if the authorities of Athens were the ones committing an injustice, only the gods would correct them.

Thena frowned at the child's tears dropping onto the stone floor. He wasn't her child; he was no one's. He was, like many others, a result of the many wars Athens had waged before, and were attempting to continue waging. It was exactly that which she was opposing, despite her title as their figurehead for war.

Footsteps approached, heavily and loudly. The boy nearly leapt in fear and scurried to hide himself behind her, even tugging at her dress like a tapestry to hide his feet.

She glanced somewhat over her shoulder in the direction of the little head of blonde hair, getting tears and snot all over her pure white robes.

"Goddess Athena!" the guards greeted her before all else. Their heavy armour and leather skirts made sound with every breath they took. "Forgive our intrusion."

She said nothing.

"We were pursuing a street urchin, and we fear he may have run in here." The captain of their group stepped forward, the adornment on his helmet distinguishing him from the others. "We wish not to disturb you. But we cannot let a stray mutt wander into the hall of gods."

Thena looked at each of them. She owed them no words, and they had no right to ask them. Her lips twitched. "You have a splinter."

The guard seemed embarrassed, rubbing at his arm. "Forgive me, O-Warrior. I was struck with a splintering old board."

A child's toy, now no doubt sitting broken in the streets. Thena looked at the others. "Which of you ate the apple?"

They looked between themselves, confused. "My Lady?"

"One of you was eating an apple," she continued, raising her empty palm. They knew what that meant, stepping back. "And threw it at a harmless old philosopher."

Their faces went pale. It brought some joy to her, but she kept her face even. Their fear was the best part of her day. Rather than deny the wisdom of the Goddess of War, they knelt. "We beg your forgiveness, great Athena."

She drew back, her blade in her hand in a second. She took a harmless swipe over their heads, although the tops of their helmets fell unceremoniously to her floor like feathers from a startled bird.

The men trembled.

Satisfied that her message was received, she retracted her powers like a cat closing its paws. "Be gone from my sight."

The men obeyed, scurrying away, abandoning the remains of their rank, leaving them to explain what had happened to their uniform. If she ever did see them again, she would not be so kind as to let them go with their dignity.

"They will not bother you again," she said more quietly. The boy was strong; he had stopped trembling. And he had, at the very least, the wisdom to let her face his multiple foes.

He sniffled one last time before stepping away from her protection. "They always do, eventually."

Then next time, she would have them begging her for their lives. She kept her eyes looking out the door as she patted the boy's head. She wouldn't have been able to read the expression on his face regardless. "Gilgamesh should be done in the forge by now. He may even take you to the great hall. I believe they are making the baklava today."

The child's eyes lit at the promise of sweets. "Can I have some?"

She did her best not to smile, lest she encourage his youthful impertinence. But she may not have been entirely capable of suppressing it. "Tell them Athena herself demands it."

The boy didn't even look twice at her, running towards the door and nearly slipping in his old, worn sandals.

"Heracles," she called after him. He turned at the sound of his name. "Return with Gilgamesh. We will show you how to strike someone properly."

The boy beamed. His cheeks were ruddy and his teeth were small and uneven, and yet they fit his cherubic face. "Yes, Thena!"

He had heard Gil address her casually too often. If he called her that, what if others thought it acceptable? But she couldn't bring herself to be angry with the boy. It was far too difficult to hold a grudge against something so sweet and innocent.

Technically, the senate decrees still needed seeing to. But she had more important things to think about. And before young Heracles returned with Gilgamesh in hand, she had some whittling to do. She wasn't Phastos, or Sersi, by any means, but even she could carve a sword out of some spare wood.

[oozeandgoo-art]

old drawing I never posted. i like these two freaks, I should draw them more

[joons]

"[Elvis] always appreciated compliments rendered him, the gifts he received or the considerations extended to him. Only when he thought an ulterior motive was behind the act, did he withhold his feeling."

!!!

[tenok]

.

[kittyloops]

is there a reason that the only reason i'm looking forward to this hangout is for it to not exist anymore

[medicinemane]

I still argue that bleeping someone like Gorden Ramsey is bullshit so that people who love and find swearing fun can pretend that they didn't just hear him call someone a fucking donkey, because there was a bleep... like they don't know the exact word he used, like they didn't think it, and like they didn't have fun with it

Cause I bet you... any amount of money you want honestly, that if you asked Gorden Ramsey not to swear he just wouldn't... I don't think they ever bleep anything in shows where he's helping kids cook

No, people find swearing fun, it's entertaining... they just don't want to admit they like it because it's naughty

And to be clear I'm directly pointing to this and pointing to 'unalive' and drawing a line between them for how we got here

[monstersflashlight]

Thinking about Naga (a constrictor preferably) fucking a human for the first time, unprepared for how hot and nice her pussy feels like. It makes him a blabbering, pussy-drunk mess as he ruts into her, moaning about how warm and tight she feels against him 👀🤎

Naga boyfriend that was not prepared to how it would feel to fuck a human. He expected everything about you: how soft your skin was, how pretty you looked when you were gasping for air when he constricted around you, how hot would you feel after a few hours under the sun with them... Everything was expected, minus the feel of your pussy around his hemipeens.

He expected you to be similar to female nagas, but the first time he was inside of you he wanted to cry about it. He wanted to be inside of you forever, to fuck you with one and then the other, fill you up so much you couldn't hold it in anymore. He wanted to fuck you so much and so hard that you couldn't think about anyone else but him, ever again. Because he couldn't. He wouldn't be able to be with anyone else after being with you. He wouldn't be able to taste any other female and not feel like you are the best he's ever had.

From that point on, he insists on fucking you at every change he gets. He tries to make it good for you, and he does, but what you love the most about it, it's how hot he gets when he's inside of you. How hot he looks all blabbering and pussy drunk as he ruts into your pussy, grinding against your G-spot until your eyes turn white and he keeps telling you how good, how pretty, how wonderful your pussy is. And when he wraps his tail around you and squeezes, all while still inside of you, you can't contain yourself from squirting all over his dicks. He looks at you mesmerized, he didn't know you could do that... And now you've created a monster. Even more so.

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you��re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[temporarytemporal]

cling to me

I know I said I was going to distance myself from this piece of media because of all of its terrible connections, but these two characters seem to have taken root in a permanent place in my heart, and I can't let them go.

Anyway, here's some character design notes below the cut for the one person out there who's obsessed with these characters as much as me.

Early DSMP: the era of childhood innocence

Bandanas: They sport each other’s bandana’s (they’re hidden in the design for every era). I love character designs with complementary colors (and I love how red and green are also cranboo’s colors)

Disks: Early on, cat and mellohi represent the peaceful moments ctommy shared with his favorite people, but they went on to be a symbol of victory and independence from the people who have hurt him.

Flowers: Ctubbo collects flowers and tries to memorize the meanings and symbolism tied to each type of flower. He also collects them for his bees.

L’manberg: the era where children became soldiers

Horns: Ctubbo’s horns start to grow in here.

Pogtopia: the era of an exile and a secretary of state / spy

You can tell I joined the fandom at the end of this era because I don’t have many notes here or for the l’manberg era.

Exile: the era of an exile once again and and a president too young

Hair: Ctommy’s hair starts to grow longer as he neglects taking care of himself.

Clothes: Ctommy’s clothes are tattered; one shoe is destroyed and he took to wearing cw-lbur’s (f-ck ccw-lbur btw!!) trench coat.

Bandages: Ctubbo’s wrapped in bandages from his recently earned firework burns. He’s gone blind in his right eye, and he’s missing the ring and pinkie finger on his right hand.

Compasses: They share their matching ‘your tommy’ and ‘your tubbo’ compasses

Hog Hunt: the era where one sought to kill the blood god while the other sought refuge there

Stolen goods: Ctommy’s has his antarctic empire outfit plus all the goods he stole from ctechno like the turtle helmet, golden apples, and the axe of peace.

Bedrock: Ctommy wears his counterpart piece matching techno’s from his ear.

Prosthetic: Ctommy’s right foot had to be amputated after he loses it to frostbite in the trek to cemeraldduo’s cabin. Ctechno gives him a simple prosthetic.

Disc Finale: the era of mended relationships and a final stand

Headband: Ctommy begins to wear a devil headband to fit in more, as he’s one of the few humans on the server. The devil horns were chosen to resemble ceryn’s real ones.

Patchwork: Ctommy learns to sew, and he fixes his tattered clothes from exile.

Post Revival:

Devil horns: Ctommy’s devil horns (plus a tail) become real after revival, and he gets a white streak in his hair.

Prime cross: The bad things that have happened to them both that they survived strengthen ctommy’s faith in prime, whereas they weaken ctubbo’s faith.

Sweater: Ctommy makes himself a sweater from friend’s wool.

Mechanical inventions: Ctubbo pursues his passion for engineering more as he makes mechanical bee drones and studies nuclear physics. He also makes himself prosthetic fingers, and he upgrades ctommy’s prosthetic foot.

Marriage ring: Ctubbo marries cranboo platonically and wears the ring on his horn. He also founds snowchester so he can have a place to protect his loved ones and raise his son. He grows out his hair to avoid eye contact for cranboo and to cover his scars.

Body type: Ctubbo gets chubbier and gains some muscle as he gets a bit happier in life.

Post DSMP:

The prison break and everything after it never happened. These are my OCs, and I make the rules because every actor/writer who played a part in their creation either abandoned them or turned out to be a terrible person. Cbenchtrio live happily ever after and begin their journey of healing while cdream rots in prison forever.

[sanemistar]

i won’t let you go — satoru gojo

contains ★ satoru x gn!reader, established relationship, angst to fluff, petnames (baby, love, babe, etc.), 1k wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

ever since you and satoru have started dating, you heard a lot of gossip and side talks from people around you about how he's never been faithful to any of his past lovers, how he lets them go after less than six months, saying that he no longer finds them interesting, that he's done being with them, how he's never truly loved and probably never will be able to love anyone. that he's a selfish man who's nothing but a player who toys with people's hearts then tosses them away when it's all over. and you’re no exception, as it’s only a matter of time before you meet the same fate as them.

he'll let you go and forget about you as if you two have never met, because satoru gojo is incapable of loving anyone.

however, you pay no attention to these words. and even if what they say is true, you still refuse to believe that it's anything but mere nonsense. and decide to fully trust satoru like you always do.

because the satoru you know and love, the man you're dating right now, your loving boyfriend, is deeply and madly in love with you. the way he kisses you ever so passionately, how he whispers the sweetest of love words to you all the time, and how he holds you in his arms tightly every night as you doze off to sleep listening to his heartbeat. no way he's leaving you, is it? you're certain of that. after all, he's promised that he'll always love you, that he'll never leave your side no matter what, that he'll never let you be alone without him. because he can't live without you.

he finds comfort in you, you're his home as he claims. and you feel the same way about him, you can't live without him either.

although, you try your best to brush these thoughts off. you can't help but wonder if it's true that he'll let you go the same way he did with the ones before you, that he'll break all these promises about being together forever.

unaware, you let these thoughts consume you as you slowly drown in sorrow.

your head starts spinning as you begin imagining the moment he breaks it down for you that he's leaving, that he no longer wants to be with you, that he's done with you. and your stomach is instantly clenched in a knot. you feel a painful pang in your heart as it gets heavier and heavier by the second.

just when you’re about to get completely lost in your thoughts, you feel a soft touch on your shoulder. you turn around and it’s none other than satoru. he cheekily smiles at you, but his cheerful expression quickly changes into a concerned, panicked one the second you start crying.

“…toru.” you sniffle as you start sobbing uncontrollably, hot tears begin to overflow out of your now red eyes like how water flows from an overfilled cup. he rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb caresses your skin delicately as he leans in. he presses feather like kisses on your face and eyes, gently kissing your salty tears away.

“why’s my baby cryin’? what’s wrong, love?” he questions, his tone is a mix of tenderness and concern. a worried look is shown in his ocean blue eyes, it pains him tremendously seeing your teary eyes and sad face, he simply can’t stand it.

you blink, eyelashes wet from crying so much. and you pause momentarily, hesitant to let the words come out of your mouth.

“i just… thought about you possibly.. leaving me alone and..” you utter in between your sniffles, lips slightly twitching. satoru doesn’t let you continue and cuts you off mid sentence.

what you don’t know is, satoru needs you far more than you need him. you're the only one who loves him for who he is as just an ordinary human and not the strongest, you allow him to be himself freely without any restrictions, he doesn't have to fake anything around you. and most importantly, you’re the one who’s introduced him to love, you’ve shown him what it’s like to truly love someone. so leaving you has never been an option to him. the thought has never crossed his mind, not even once.

"babe listen, ‘kay?” he speaks tenderly as he rests his other hand on your cheek, cupping your face in his big hands as he brings you closer to him. eyes pierced on one another, locked in an unwavering gaze, as if you're staring into one another's soul.

“no way i’m leavin’ you, not now, not ever. so don't think about that anymore, 'kay? we’re stuck together for life." he reassures you, the tone of his voice is so soft and sweet, yet affirmative and serious. he then slightly brushes his nose against yours and it tickles you a little before his hands let go of your face, only to pull you in his arms instead. your eyes widen for a split second before you rest your head gently against his broad, well toned chest. your hands grip the back of his shirt tightly, holding onto him for dear life as you steady yourself listening to his calming heartbeat. his slender fingers delicately run through your hair while pressing a series of quick, loving pecks on the top of your head.

he smiles the moment he feels you relax in his embrace. to satoru, you being in his arms as he feels your warmth against his skin is everything he’s ever needed. as long as you’re here with him, that’s more than enough for him, he doesn’t need anything or anyone else.

“i won’t let you go.” he whispers ever so softly against your ear, his voice rings in your ears like a sweet melody. and you hum quietly, smiling against his chest as your eyes slowly shut in relief. you let yourself trust him once more as his earnest words wash over the little doubts that have been there.

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