#because it's what he deserves dammit

[dazais-guardian-angel]

I hate to nitpick the Atsushi hallucinating scene in the new episode cause it was SO well done otherwise, but I'm still really sad that they cut out Francis being there. Like... it's not entirely necessary, I guess, but it just adds so much to his character and to the scene itself?

The Francis in Atsushi's mind is this looming, intimidating presence, because Atsushi did of course fight against him, he was his enemy at one point, but I think it undeniably says a lot that he's even included here at all.

I'm pretty sure I saw this discussed back when this chapter first came out, but while everything Atsushi's hallucinations say to him are framed as negative, putting him down, they can also be read as letting him know that the burden of responsibility for making such a huge decision isn't on him (hence why he decides to let Fukuzawa decide instead, because he can't make THE choice, but he can still choose to act to let someone else decide, and not simply do nothing), and Francis is no exception in this regard. Since he's naturally haughty and arrogant in his personality, this fake version of him doesn't at all feel out of character, coldly saying that "nobody expects anything of you", but again, I think this line especially can also be read as "you are not expected to do anything". In that way, it feels more reassuring, and maybe even dare I say kind -- the fact that Atsushi even considers him important enough of a figure in his life to think of what he would say to him in this moment means that he counts Francis among his allies now. Yes, they didn't get along at first when Francis lied and told him that he only wanted to revive Margaret just so she could kill Hawthorne (because god forbid he actually admit out loud that he cares about people, smh), and obviously because of the whole almost burning Yokohama down and trying to kill him and Akutagawa thing lol, but I'm pretty sure Atsushi changed his mind about him after he saw the state Margaret was in, and recognized how much Francis cares about her and wanted her to be alright. He probably still remembers him talking about his desire to bring back his daughter and save her and his wife, too. The guy still probably isn't someone Atsushi would want to hang out with and be buddy-buddy with during his free time lmao, but the airheaded vain old sport still has a good heart, deep down, and I think Atsushi has seen this by now, because he's a kind person, and so I think it speaks volumes that he unconsciously looks to him for advice here. Francis is just a really good and underrated character, and this is such a small but meaningful moment that shows his development so well, the only moment with him we've gotten or any of the Guild really in such a long time, so it makes me sad to see this cut 💔

I also just feel like not including him kind of weakens the impact of Akutagawa's appearance here?? Like, there's a progression of the order of people Atsushi hears/sees in this scenes: first, people from the ADA sans Dazai, who are all portrayed as on the same level, because he cares about them all equally, aside from I guess Kyouka (again, sans Dazai, the most important person to him). Then, there is Francis, and not to say that Francis is more important to Atsushi than the ADA, obviously not, but he's one of the last to appear because he used to be his enemy, and so he commands much more of a presence, has more of an impact -- but at the same time, like I said, it's complicated: he's not really his enemy anymore, but something between a rival and a friend, and so for that reason his words carry more weight. He is someone Atsushi, logically, shouldn't trust, after what he did to him in the past, and yet he does, because things have changed since the Guild arc, and he knows he can count on him to be there for him and the ADA now.

And then, after him, there is Akutagawa. Who is basically exactly the same as everything I just described for Francis, but times one hundred. Of course Akutagawa would be last. Of course, if there's someone Atsushi would simultaneously and paradoxically be both intimidated by and yet comforted to hear their advice because of their tumultuous history together, far more than Francis, it would be Akutagawa. The progression of ADA members > Francis > Akutagawa in that order gives Akutagawa's appearance much more weight imo than just going straight to him from the ADA members, especially with the specific framing of him standing in line behind Francis to judge/advise Atsushi.... it's just much more powerful, and I wish they'd kept it like this, for both Francis and Aku's characters.

[kurokoros]

something something it’s kind of fucked up that the narrative punishes Steve for assuming Nancy cheated on him, had Steve change for/because of Nancy, and abandon his (not actually that terrible) friends for Nancy, only for S2 to come along and reveal that Nancy only settled for Steve because Jonathan didn’t ask her out fast enough, and then she actually does cheat on Steve with Jonathan and

[karmaphone]

I've seen so much good meta but not nearly enough about Jupe & his former costars (including the chimp) like. I saw one person make a parallel between the incident and Jupe's design for his sons' constumes (a head which resembles the cameras and the body of a chimp. also worth noting that he didn't look at him directly- his head was obscured through a tablecloth.) but has anyone made the connection that he needed to reframe 'what really happened' through an SNL skit - one where the chimp was played by a human (once more playing to the theme of personification) and his wife needed to remind him that even trained animals are unpredictable IN THE MOMENT while dealing with a wild one. don't even get me started on the related themes of consumption like the chimp tearing off and/or eating his costars lips and that fact being revealed when Jean Jacket has had enough of her exploitation and eats them all instead of Lucky. or the fact that it's the consumption of the plastic heavily cartoonized (literally full of hot air) version of him that results in Jean Jacket's demise. Or the fact that Jean Jacket rained down change from the people she ate at the show and that's what let Em pay the well to take a picture of her (once more playing into the cycle of consumption)

[claudiaeparvier]

okay so I’m looking into VC characters and I hope I’m just reading too much into it but they better not give the David Talbot body swap situation to Daniel in the show

[tonycries]

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally. 

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could. 

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead. 

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above. 

Dammit. 

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless? 

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow. 

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head. 

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?” 

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now. 

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was. 

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all. 

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms. 

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on. 

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly. 

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue. 

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow. 

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors. 

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?” 

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door. 

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless- 

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap. 

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-” 

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them. 

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter. 

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age. 

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one. 

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real. 

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?” 

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too. 

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day. 

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter. 

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then. 

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know. 

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-” 

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.” 

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him. 

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.” 

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you. 

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed. 

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but. 

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?” 

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did. 

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-” 

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!” 

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you. 

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold. 

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.” 

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away. 

Gojo Satoru was deathly still. 

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary. 

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you. 

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid. 

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-” 

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too. 

Unmistakable. 

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away. 

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him. 

It was him. Alive. 

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion. 

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-” 

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue. 

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss. 

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions. 

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure. 

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.” 

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane. 

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric. 

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist. 

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip! 

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all. 

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds. 

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs. 

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”  

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing. 

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit. 

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.” 

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths. 

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones- 

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance. 

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there. 

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–” 

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now. 

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better. 

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach. 

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away. 

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable. 

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation. 

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager. 

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this. 

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs. 

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared. 

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you. 

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.” 

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.  

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length. 

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows. 

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”  

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy. 

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock. 

“Spit on me.” 

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes. 

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot. 

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside. 

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure. 

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet. 

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful. 

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins,  “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[on-leatheredwings]

request: “how damian would handle learning reader is dating somebody?”

Yandere! Damian Wayne / GN! Reader > romantic > tw/cw: possessive thoughts, yandere-typical behaviors > word count: 741

“So, remember when I told you I thought my chem partner was kind of hot?”

You both are poring over your books on one of Wayne Manor’s many balconies. Damian, on a break, looks up from playing with Alfred the Cat with her favorite fluffy wand. He and Alfred have identical pairs of glassy green eyes, now trained on you. Damian blinks, face impassive.

“... I do–”

“I finally asked him out!” you squeal. You hop out your seat and around in a circle, not caring to feign coolness. You were excited, dammit, and Damian has seen you do much more embarrassing things.

While you celebrate, Damian simply stares. You don’t notice his breaths deepening subtly, as he tries to subdue the burning acid that starts to run through his veins. You had been interested in your chemistry partner for weeks now, and he didn’t think much of it. You’re young. You’ll have crushes. They’ll pass. He’s learned the art of patience by now. Mainly, for the sake of any who catch your eye, and for the sake of his father’s chagrin. Damian Wayne is not above slander or physical harm. 

Damian Wayne also has a timeline. He knows when he’ll start to hint at his feelings for you. He knows when he’ll make you his significant other. When he’ll bring you to meet his family, although they are already aware of your place in his life. Damian even knows when he’ll someday propose. He has, quite literally, already planned out your nuptials. Stephanie had him make a moodboard on Pinterest, for goodness sake. 

Damian’s benevolent enough to let you choose the date… as long as it’s within a year of his proposal. He’s been so benevolent, and yet here you were, squealing over a date with some frivolous boy. 

Taking Damian’s silence as him being stunned, you continue waxing at length about your date. He admires the naive abandon at which you describe the events – one of your charming qualities. However, in his mind, Damian pokes holes in every sentence.

You met the boy there? Meaning, he didn’t pick you up? Embarrassing. 

He didn’t pull out your chair for you once you both reached the table? Insulting. 

You tripped on a stair, and the boy simply helped you up? Infuriating. If it were him, Damian would’ve picked you up and carried you to your next destination. 

“You can’t be serious,” Damian snaps, sneering against his better judgment. His blood has finally boiled over – he cannot sit here listening to this drivel anymore.

At his tone, you flinch. Your babbling ceases. Hurt flashes across your face, before you smother it away.

“... What?” you say defensively. Damian straightens to his full height, dropping the feathery wand entirely. He strides over to you, looking entirely striking. Two emerald eyes stare down at you.

“You were treated like garbage the entire time, and here you can’t stop gushing about it all.”

You stare at Damian agape. “Okay, I wasn’t treated like garbage–”

“Did he even pay for the meal,” Damian asks flatly. You bristle, frowning.

“We split it–”

Damian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. You fill with embarrassment, staring at your feet… Your thoughts are interrupted by two warm, calloused hands landing on your shoulders. Your head snaps up. 

“You deserve to be treated like royalty.” Damian’s eyes pore into yours intensely, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “And as your… friend, I would hope you would entertain only those who could be your equal.” 

So he says, but no one will ever have his approval. He will sway you against them no matter who they are. Because only he deserves you. Some days, he doesn’t even know if he does. Regardless, you and him are meant to be.

You are dumbfounded by the sudden gravity of the conversation.

“I– yeah,” you say, nodding shyly. Damian overtakes your field of vision at this distance… you know, you noticed how handsome he was long ago, but at this closeness, you can truly admire it. He’s quite the domineering figure, with his perfectly-cut jaw, elegant aquiline nose, and even brown skin. You cough, stepping back.

“... Yeah,” you say again. “Uh, thanks, Damian. Let’s go over these problems again, yeah?”

Damian bristles.

The look that was just on your face...

He blinks. If he was correct… Perhaps he had just accelerated his timeline. And if so, such a development would be more than welcome.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Touch Tank

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k (look it wasn't supposed to be this many- my characters got away from me)

Warnings: sheesh, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, creampie, Loki is very soft and worshiping, unprotected sex (be safe) I think that's it idk this is kind of mild compared to some of my other stuff- could be waaaay more raunchy lmao

Genre: fluff, smut

Summary: Loki is not the easiest person to get close to, but you're not deterred by his standoffishness. He deserves a friend in the tower and you're determined to be at least that much.

He's so pretty when he goes down on me // he tells me he's gentle when he wants to be // I think he wants to be gentle with me ~ Touch Tank by Quinnie

***

You rush down the hall, excited for your night out with a group of your non-Avenger friends. You make a point to see your other friends as often as you can to balance those relationships with your ones on the team. After all, living with the Avengers means that you see them all the time, but being an Avenger is not all there is to you. Walking into the main room you're surprised to see Loki sitting at the kitchen counter, just kind of staring at nothing.

"You alright Lo?" You ask him carefully. Your question seems to pull him out of whatever trance he was in.

"I'm fine." He says, though his face isn't convincing.

"Okay? Happy staring- I'm going out so- I'll see you later then." You frown heading over to the main elevator. Loki's not exactly close to anyone in the tower except Thor, and even that he'd argue is false but you always make a point to include him even when the others ignore him a bit. As you ride down to street level you can't help but wonder what has him so pensive up there by himself. On the street, waiting for a taxi to flag down, you can't get yourself to shake Loki from your mind so- reluctantly you dial one of your friends.

"Y/n!" Your friend's excited voice practically yells down the line.

"Hey! Listen, you know I hate to do this, and I wouldn't if it wasn't important, but I'm not going to be able to make it out tonight, something's come up. I'm okay, I just can't come. You guys have fun! I want loads of pictures and a play-by-play once one of you returns to life tomorrow yeah?"

"Aw we're gonna miss you!"

"Ditto! But I'll see you guys soon! Tell the girls I said hi!" You say.

"Of course! Take care, and call if you need anything!"

"Same to you!" You blow a kiss as you end the call and sigh. "Dammit Loki." You roll your eyes as you turn around and go back inside. You ride the elevator back up to the main floor where Loki is still sitting at the counter. You knock on the counter in front of him and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Aren't you meant to be going somewhere?" Loki's eyes narrow at you.

"I was, but I called my friend on my way down and she's actually not feeling too hot so we decided it'd be best to reschedule once she's feeling better." You shrug. You know better than to tell him you cancelled your plans because you saw him moping at the counter. He'd flip at the first possible hint of you pitying him, even though that isn't what this is.

"I see."

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" You offer.

"What?" He scoffs.

"Well- I was supposed to be spending time interacting with people tonight and that fell through but I'd feel kinda bummed if I spent the whole evening alone now after all the mental prep to be social so if you can be so terribly bothered to hang out for a bit I'd- value that." You say. Loki looks you over as he considers your words and then he sighs.

"I suppose I could spare a few hours, but only because I can't stand watching you mope around the tower the way you do whenever you're disappointed, it's pathetic. But this favor is a huge inconvenience to me I just want you to know that." He says and you have to fight the urge to smile. You know the show of bravado is for his own sake more than anything, and you're willing to let him have it, but it's funny to think of how much rationalizing he's doing to convince himself it's alright to spend time with you.

"Your sacrifice is both duly noted and greatly appreciated. I can offer you compensation in the form of a meal or freshly baked cookies." You say. Loki's eyes light up very briefly at the offer of cookies, he'll never admit it out loud but he loves your baking, he always eats almost half a tray when you make them.

"You know Midgardian food has very little appeal to me, but I suppose a batch of cookies will do." He says with feigned disinterest.

"Do you want them now or at a later date?"

"I have no interest in dragging this out, so now would be better."

"Alright, give me five minutes to change, I'll make you some cookies and we can throw on a movie." You smile at him. You change out of your dress and into a hoodie and shorts. Twenty minutes later you're sat with a tray of cookies and a few other small bites with some random sitcom on the TV.

"I don't understand the point of this. Is there even a plotline?" Loki scoffs.

"Yes but only a little one."

"A little one?"

"So there are a number of shows that you can throw on and watch out of order with little consequence. Like if you do watch every episode in order there is a throughline of like character development and life changes but if you jump into, let's say, season 3 episode 2, you'll just see some funny little antics that are mostly inconsequential and chances are will not come up again until maybe the finale where they recount all their little goofs over the years." You explain.

"Why?"

"Mindless entertainment? It's nice to have something to watch that you don't have to be aware of watching." You shrug. "Lots of shows have complex storylines and characters that need to be paid attention to in order to comprehend what you're watching. Sometimes you don't want to do all of that." You shrug.

"If you don't want to think about what you're watching, why watch anything?" He frowns.

"Pass the time, fill the silence, any number of things. Like we have one on but we're talking now so we're not really paying it any attention, but because it's a sitcom we're not missing anything vital because there's nothing vital to miss. And when this conversation lulls to a stop we'll just tune back in and pick up wherever it's at."

"Your Midgardian habits are very strange." Loki hums.

"What do you do when you're bored and want to be entertained without much effort?" You ask him.

"That specific phenomenon I'm not quite familiar with. If I'm bored, I read, practice spells, on Asgard there wasn't much time for boredom." He shrugs.

"Well, things are different on Midgard. And seeing as you hate everyone and everything about this place you may find yourself well acquainted with that specific phenomenon sooner than you might think." You say.

You gotta say you're pretty proud of your ability to interact positively with Loki. When he first started living here you never would've guessed you'd be watching movies and having silly conversations like this. He's always been rather closed off from the team but perhaps that's something you can actually work around.

*~*~*

"Loki!" You call when you catch him in the hall.

"What?" He rolls his eyes.

"Are you busy?" You ask.

"Why?" His eyes narrow suspiciously.

"Well I was meant to go to the aquarium with Thor today-"

"Thor is on Asgard." Loki says.

"Yes exactly." You nod. You weren't meant to do anything with Thor today, but it seems the key to the trickster god is minor deceptions.

"Did he forget you were going to this 'aquarium' today?"

"It would appear so. Which- I'm not mad about really but these tickets did cost money and I can't exchange them for another date so I was hoping you'd be able to replace him that way the ticket doesn't go to waste." You explain to him.

"You don't have anyone else you could ask?" He huffs.

"Not on such short notice." You shake your head.

"How short is short notice?"

"We need to be there in forty minutes."

"Oh you have got to be kidding me." Loki scoffs.

"If you come with me, when we get back I'll bake you a batch of cookies." You offer. It seems to be the easiest way to get him to do things. You watch Loki contemplate for a moment before he caves to his inner discussion although you're not sure there was much of a debate once you offered baked goods.

"Very well, I'll go so you don't waste your money, but you can't keep bringing your nonsense to me in exchange for cookies." He says.

"Of course not!" You smile knowing damn well you will be doing it again if you see fit. Loki will never admit to enjoying your company or wanting you to make him cookies, but considering he always accepts your offers and never truly complains when you're together, you know the irritation is only a front. "We'll leave in 15 minutes 'kay?"

"Very well." He says. You head back to your room to get yourself together and 15 minutes later you meet Loki by the kitchen.

"Ready Lo?" You ask.

"Yes let's get on with it." He says. You loop your arm through his as you leave the tower and you're surprised he doesn't protest the contact, but you won't bring it up. At the aquarium, you excitedly talk about all your favorite exhibits as you walk from section to section. "So what was the plan exactly?" Loki asks.

"What?"

"With Thor, why were you bringing him here in the first place?"

"Oh! Well because there's a lot he still wants to learn about Earth so I've been trying to take him places where he can learn a number of things at the same time." You shrug.

"And how is that going?"

"We've done the zoo and a couple of museums already so I'd say not bad. Oh, we're by the jellyfish, you should see the touch tank!" You say.

"The what now?" Loki frowns. You grab his hand and lead him to the shallow tank of water off to one side.

"This is a touch tank. These are jellyfish, they're like 95% water and don't have brains, some of them are dangerous, but these ones are pretty harmless and you can touch them! Only on the tops of their heads though. Like this." You lift his hand up and push down all but two of his fingers and then slowly, you guide his hand into the water. "You have to be gentle." You tell him softly as you let his fingers touch the top of a moon jelly in the pool. You turn to Loki with a small smile only to find him already looking at you very intensely.

"I'm quite gentle when I want to be." He says quietly. You step back a bit and clear your throat, dipping your own fingers in to touch a jellyfish for yourself.

"Well I hope you want to be gentle with the moon jellies. This is one of my favorite things here." You tell him.

"So anyone can just walk up and pet the jellyfish?" 

"Yeah! Isn't it cool?"

"Sure." He nods.

"Wait till you see some of the other Jellyfish they've got here! They're insane!" You take his hand again and walk further into the jellyfish exhibit.

"They have more open tanks of creatures?"

"Oh- no all the other Jellyfish are in closed tanks." You giggle.

"Just as well, you said some are dangerous, no?"

"Well, yes, but aren't they just so beautiful?" You say looking at one of the tanks.

"Breathtaking." Loki says before he can help himself. He clears his throat, lucky you're so captivated with the floating water creatures that you don't even notice his eyes on you as opposed to the exhibits.

"Thank you for coming with me." You tell him.

"You bribed me."

"True- but you still could have said no. Especially since you're not even a fan of our, how do you say it? 'Mediocre Midgardian food'."

"Yes well, you pout when you're disappointed and it's incredibly displeasing to see. The whole tower suffers your moods. And while Midgardian food is mediocre yours is- the least. Plus I can rub this in Thor's face."

"I see you really weighed those pros and cons." You chuckle.

"I must. If I'm to disrupt my entire afternoon on such short notice." He shrugs. You roll your eyes and pull him through to the next exhibit but the smile on your face can't be hidden.

~*~*~

You hum to yourself as you enter the tower library.

"Good morning Loki." You say immediately spotting him on one of the lounge chairs. He's always in here, it's like his sanctuary and over the last few weeks you've found it easy to interact with him.

"It's 3pm y/n."

"It's morning somewhere Lo, time is arbitrary, don't be a grump." You shrug.

"What are you doing here anyway?" He rolls his eyes.

"Utilizing the insane collection of books we have considering there's only like 3 people living here that would ever pick up a book for from here."

"You've been coming here a lot lately."

"Why should you be the only one taking advantage of this big otherwise undisturbed room?"

"The best part of this room is that none of you come here."

"If you want to not run the risk of having to interact with anyone who lives here to might I suggest your room which has a lock on it." You smile brightly.

"Very funny." Loki scoffs.

"I thought so too!" You snap back. Loki gives you a dry look.

"Must you be so-"

"Charming? Witty? Adorable?"

"Not quite the adjectives I would've chosen." He says.

"Well next time finish your sentence." You wink at him.

"Are you trying to get under my skin?"

"Of course not! But it's pretty easy."

"Why must you bother me?" His eyes narrow.

"Maybe because you like talking to me more than you want to admit."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because you always do."

"Do what?"

"I'm sure you can figure that out." You say turning to leave the library.

"Do what y/n!?" He calls after you. "You didn't even get a book!" He shouts as the library doors close behind you. Loki frowns to himself for a moment and then decides to contact the only person he'd ever go to for advice on any subject. A looking glass spell slowly brings Frigga to life above his palm.

"Mother." He gets her attention.

"Loki?" Frigga picks up her looking glass with a smile. "Hello my darling boy. So lovely to hear from you. Thor tells me you're well."

"In the physical sense, yes." Loki nods.

"What troubles you my dear son?"

"I think Midgardian women might be more confusing than those on Asgard." Loki says.

"A woman? Do you feel for her?"

"Don't be ridiculous mother." Loki's words come out as a breathless chuckle.

"It is not ridiculous. She plagues your mind. Why, if you do not feel for her?"

"Truthfully I'm not sure." He frowns.

"Have you considered that you feel for her?"

"How would I know?"

"I believe the fact that you are asking may perhaps be a strong indicator already. This girl, do you see her often?"

"She lives here so yes." He nods.

"I mean intentionally darling." Frigga smiles.

"What?"

"Walking past her in the hallways is not quite what I'm referring to."

"Oh- well she's the least insufferable person here so- sometimes, yes. Though it's usually her bribing me to do things when her other plans fall through."

"What do you mean?"

"Well she invited me to this water creature house they call an aquarium a couple of weeks ago because Thor forgot he was meant to go with her."

"Are you sure Thor was meant to go with her?" She asks.

"I don't follow." Loki shakes his head.

"I wonder if this girl is playing tricks on my trickster." Frigga smiles knowingly.

"Do you overestimate her or underestimate me to believe I could be outsmarted by a mortal?"

"It is not a blow Loki, be calm my son. She plagues your mind when she is not there, she has made her way to a spot many people never have the pleasure of knowing within you. I believe she has stolen your heart and even you do not know it yet."

"What makes you think that?"

"In all your years Loki you have never once asked me about a girl. And this one seems to have you quite... wrapped."

"I resent that notion." He scoffs.

"What made you contact me?"

"Well she was-" Loki stops himself, his mother has already decided Loki is a goner, perhaps he shouldn't feed her any more information.

"She was with you Loki?"

"I spend a lot of time in the library. She came by and we had a short conversation that's all."

"What did she say?" Frigga asks.

"She thinks I like her more than I do. Or rather more than I will admit. I asked her why and she refused to answer."

"Well- what would lead her to believe that?"

"I have no idea." Loki scoffs.

"How is your relationship with her different than with the others?"

"I don't speak to the others. I only speak to her and Thor."

"Tell me about her."

"She is- happy, but not like Thor- his happiness is loud and aggressive she is- a calmer happiness. She seems to be crucial to the peace in this madhouse. Not for me, for everyone. She's also frustratingly smart, she has a comeback for everything and- it's nice to feel as though someone on this dreadful planet can match me- even if I find it vexing at times. Also she bakes- I don't quite enjoy Midgardian food but her treats are quite good though I refuse to tell her that-"

"I'm sure she knows." Frigga says with a soft smile.

"Why are you smiling like that."

"If you could see your face when you speak of this girl you would know like I know that your heart is no longer yours."

"My heart is very much still-"

"No darling. You may not realize but your mind has already given your heart to her. Follow your heart to her. Allow yourself to go there. It will do you good and you deserve it."

"Mother I cannot." He shakes his head.

"You can, and I suggest you do soon. If you do not tell her she has your heart you risk her unknowingly breaking it. Though I sense she is more aware than you may think. Certainly she's more aware than you are."

"You keep saying that-"

"There was no day planned with Thor. I would bet money she wanted to go with you, but you are a tricky thing. To catch fox you must think like one."

"What do I do mother? If you are right and this girl does have me, what do I do?" Loki asks.

"Be kind, be honest, be true. Don't wait too long." Frigga warns.

"Don't wait too long?" He frowns.

"Yes child, that woman will not wait forever for you to wake up."

"What if she is not waiting?"

"You misunderstand. I'm not saying she is waiting on you to come to your senses what I'm saying is that affections change one day she may not enjoy your time as she does now, someone serious may woo her and you miss your chance entirely, stars forbid it but something could happen to her or you. Do not get in your own way Loki, you have a tendency to do that."

"I do not get in my own way."

"Loki." Frigga says, leveling her son with an unimpressed look.

"I will consider your advice mother thank you." Loki cedes.

"Good. I will expect an update soon so be prepared for me to check in."

"Of course mother. Take care."

"You too my son." Frigga sets her looking glass down and Loki disconnects his end of the spell with a sigh. If Frigga is correct, Loki has much to consider, and rather quickly based on her warnings.

*~*~*

When the door to the library opens you don't bother looking up. The book you're reading is far too interesting to stop mid-page.

"What are you doing?" Loki jumps when he walks passed you. You look up momentarily, debating how badly you want to make a stupid joke.

"I'm practicing my backhand spring." You say flatly.

"You're sitting on the couch?"

"I'm also holding a book and yet you asked what I'm doing. I don't know what answer you expected honestly." You shrug.

"I just meant you're not usually sitting around in here."

"Is reading in the library that odd to you?" You chuckle.

"Well- no. I was just expecting the library to be empty." He says.

"Would you like me to leave?"

"Why would you offer to leave? You were here first."

"Yeah but I can read anywhere. Your hermit tendencies limit your spaces far more than mine."

"I am not a hermit." Loki rolls his eyes.

"Of course not." You hum.

"I'm not. I just have no desire to waste my time having unintelligent conversations with the uncultured morons that live here."

"Well don't let me bother you then."

"Not you, the others. And you can obviously stay."

"Why thank you for deeming me worthy enough to stay in your presence." You quip dramatically.

"It's not as if you care what I deem anyhow."

"True, that was sarcasm. Happy reading." You turn your attention back to your book and though Loki would like the conversation to continue he can't think of anything to say to justify pulling your focus from the book you're so clearly captivated by. You're in the library with your book for a few more hours and during that time Loki cannot help the way his eyes wander to you every so often, he doesn't even realize it's happening at first but once he does his mother's words that have been in his head for the past 2 weeks ring even louder.

~*~*~

"Y/n!" Wanda practically sings as she walks, no from the sound of it she's skipping, over to you at the kitchen island.

"Yes Wanda my dear?" You chuckle, setting your sandwich back on its plate.

"You know our coffee shop?"

"Around the block?"

"Yep!" She nods.

"What of it?"

"Well I heard through the grapevine that someone who works there has a crush on you."

"You heard- through the grapevine?" You quirk up an eyebrow at her.

"Cassie told me."

"How did you end up in that conversation?" You chuckle.

"Not the point, we should go down there!" She suggests excitedly.

"I'm eating a sandwich-"

"Not right now, tomorrow morning."

"You wanna tell me- who this mystery crush is? Because I'm not going anywhere if you don't tell me." You say biting your sandwich.

"It's Elliot."

"Oh he's cute-"

"Wanda." Vision calls as the main elevator arrives.

"Soooo we'll game plan when I get back?" She asks walking backwards.

"Fine." You shake your head and chuckle as she disappears in the elevator with Vision. You take a bite of your sandwich, presumably alone again, only to hear a throat clearing from behind you. You look over your shoulder to find Loki the source of the sound.

"Oh hi Loki." You say covering your mouth.

"Hello." He mutters.

"What brings you out of hiding today?"

"I'm not a hibernating bear you know."

"Of course not." You hum. Loki opens the fridge to grab something to drink, although it's mostly just so he can convince himself to bite the bullet and confess to you before this 'Elliot' from the coffee shop has an opportunity to turn your head like his mother warned him of.

"Do you have a moment? I know you're- eating but I'd like to talk- about something." He says awkwardly.

"Sure. I can use multiple senses at once. What's up?" You ask taking another bite of your sandwich. Loki opens his mouth a couple of times before he frowns. "Is something wrong Loki?"

"I don't know." He says, brows furrowed as he looks at the floor.

"You don't know if something's wrong? Are you dizzy? Dehydrated? Feverish? Do you need to sit down?" You sit up, concerned.

"No, I don't."

"You sure? You look kind of- constipated. I think you should sit down."

"I don't want to y/n." He grits out.

"Okay, calm down no need to get angry with me for caring."

"You said I look constipated!"

"Well you do! But only a little bit!"

"This is not going at all how I planned it?"

"What are you on about Loki?" You frown.

"Nothing it was just way easier to do this in my head."

"Easier to do what?"

"Never mind. Enjoy your lunch." Loki pivots and you almost knock over your barstool trying to stop him from leaving the kitchen.

"Not so fast god of mischief tell me what it is you're so panicked about."

"It's nothing y/n." He rolls his eyes.

"Nonsense. If it were nothing you wouldn't have made such a big deal out of it in the first place." You tell him.

"Yes, I over reacted, which is what I just realized and why I'm no longer interested in having this conversation." He says completely avoiding your gaze.

"Don't be a coward Loki." You snap.

"I beg your pardon?" His eyes widen.

"Don't be a coward. I've never known you to shy away from sharing your thoughts even when nobody asked don't tell me suddenly you're incapable of speaking your mind."

"I am far from incapable." He says.

"So spill it." You push.

"And if I don't?"

"Then you're not who I thought you were."

"Over a personal thought?" His eyebrow raises.

"It's the principle. What have you got to lose that makes you so fearful of your own voice?"

"Something I didn't even realize was important to me until recently." He says quietly.

"What's that?" You ask. Loki's eyes scan your face for a long moment, and if not for how close you are you'd swear he's holding his breath for how shallow it is.

"You." He whispers.

"I'm not going anywhere." You shake your head.

"I'm afraid you may take that back if you hear that which I refuse to say." He says.

"Is the reward worth the risk?" You ask.

"If I'm lucky."

"I'm disappointed that you see me as someone so easily run off Loki."

"That's not what this is." He shakes his head.

"No? It sounds like it."

"Do you see me as somebody that could be loved?"

"Of course I do. Thor loves you unconditionally. Your mother too from what I've heard."

"Do you see me as somebody that could be loved, by you?" This question is far more hesitant.

"Is that what you want?"

"In time, yes." He nods and a stray giggle escapes your lips.

"That's what you thought would drive me away?!" You shake your head. "Maybe you haven't noticed but I put quite a bit of effort into creating time to spend with you."

"Oh come on it's mostly coincidence, your friends canceling or Thor forgetting you had plans."

"You silly trickster. I chose to spend that time with you." You say.

"To be clear- does that mean you're as taken with me as I am with you?" Loki asks.

"You're taken with me?!" You blink at him in shock.

"Yes was I not clear about-"

"I'm joking Loki I just wanted to hear you say it directly." You smile.

"You vex me." He breathes out.

"And yet you like me anyway. Even more than I expected."

"Don't boast."

"How can I not?" You ask.

"I can think of a few ways to stop you."

"You can try Loki but I'm not so easily swayed." You taunt. Loki's hand comes up to your cheek and he kisses you. His lips are soft and he kisses you as if he's got all the time in the world. When Loki pulls away your eyes flutter open with surprise.

"How's that for sway?" He smirks.

"I'll admit that wasn't a terrible start." You breathe.

"Oh yeah?" Loki lifts you into his arms suddenly and you squeal in surprise as he carries you to his room. He lays you gently on his bed and kisses you again. "Not a terrible start is not enough." He hums trailing to your neck, peppering your throat with kisses and light nibbles. Loki pulls your shirt over your head. "Stars above you're beautiful." He mutters trailing his fingers delicately across your newly exposed skin.

"I'm not a flower you know." You giggle, the soft touches making you feel ticklish.

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"Nothing bad. You're just being much more gentle than I'd have expected." You tell him caressing his face. He pauses for a moment as you trace his features.

"Do you remember what I said at the aquarium?"

"About the hammerhead shark reminding you of-"

"No about being gentle you silly girl." He says with a disbelieving chuckle.

"Oh! Yes that you can be when you want to be."

"Precisely."

"I didn't realize it applied elsewhere."

"Do you not like gentle?"

"Gentle is good." You shake your head. "Just unexpected." You smile. Loki returns your smile and leans down to press kisses down your abdomen. He pulls your shorts and panties off together, kissing your calf ones you're freed from the fabric. Loki's eyes are on you as his lips glide up your leg, opened mouthed kisses until he reaches your thigh where he bites at the skin, just enough for you to feel it. With one last kiss to your hip, Loki buries his face in your heat. You gasp at the first feel of his tongue against your center. His movements are unhurried as he watches your reactions to his mouth. When he finds the rhythm that you react the strongest to he sticks to it, enjoying the whimpers and moans he pulls from you and the way your body grinds against him.

"Oh god." You pant, one hand tangling in his hair. When you feel two of his fingers slowly glide into your entrance and curl upwards your eyes shoot open with a whine that makes Loki hum against you. You glance down at him, surprised to see his green eyes peering up at you with something akin to adoration shining in them and despite the pleasure building in your belly all you can think about for a brief moment is how... pretty he looks. Of course, that train of thought is lost when Loki wraps his lips around your clit, focusing his attention on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Between his tongue and his fingers you don't have a chance of staving off the orgasm that washes over you soon after. Loki works you through it, only pulling away when your breathing starts to steady.

"You are a vision in the heat of release you know." He says a hand on your chin to guide your attention.

"No, I did not know that." You smile reaching up to undress Loki. You pull his shirt over his head, littering his chest with kisses as you undo his pants but don't pull them down. You slip your hand into the waistband of his underwear stroking his hard hot dick.

"F-fucking hell you might be the death of me." Loki breathes out shuddering beneath your touch.

"I sure hope not. I quite like you alive you know." You joke with a giggle. Loki grabs your wrist and shakily pulls your hand from him.

"Right, if this goes on I'll embarrass myself." He says with a slight chuckle shifting to pull his pants down enough to free himself. He lines himself with your entrance and slowly works himself passed your walls with short rolling thrusts, deeper each time.

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about you know Loki." You tell him, admittedly a bit winded as he fills you.

"Maybe not, but I'll admit it's not ideal for our first time together." He groans as he bottoms out.

"Don't get caught up in expectations Loki." You tell him.

"Only my own darling." He says. Loki holds still for a few moments, allowing you to adjust to his size, only moving when you begin to grind against him.

"Move, Loki, please." You groan. Loki lets out a breath as he starts a steady rhythm. He's immediately a string of groans and curses in your ear as he fucks you, his sounds mingling with yours beautifully.

"Gods you feel even better than I could've imagined." He pants out between thrusts.

"Don't stop baby. God you feel so good." You moan, grinding up against his hips to meet his movements. Loki reaches between your bodies and his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the bud that turn your quiet moans to loud whines.

"Come on darling, I want to feel you cum on my dick. Please y/n- let go for me." Loki coaxes, kissing at your throat again and it doesn't take long for your body to tense with the feeling of another orgasm. Loki groans deeply as your walls tighten around him from your release.

"Did you like that Loki? Feeling my pussy clench from cumming for you? You're close aren't you? Come on baby, cum for me."

Loki's thrusts speed up a bit, then falter, and stall altogether moments later as you feel the heat of his release inside you. Loki kisses your shoulder gently as he comes down from his orgasm, your fingers stroking his hair a comfort he wouldn't have thought he'd enjoy.

"You know- I know you were trying to get me to stop boasting but if boasting always ends with us like this I'm inclined to do it more often." You say after a few moments of silence and Loki chuckles against your neck.

"Boasting is not a prerequisite my darling." He says sitting up. Loki conjures a damp cloth and gently dabs first your face, then your neck, and carefully between your legs before helping you into his shirt.

"Well what is?" You ask.

"There isn't one you tricky girl." He chuckles pulling you into his chest.

"How am I the tricky one here?"

"You caught the fox, I think that's worth some tricky points."

"What fox? Are you the fox?"

"Mhm." He nods.

"Well- then that's by far the best thing I've ever caught." You smile up at him.

"The fox isn't complaining either." He hums and you cuddle closer to him. This hadn't exactly been your original gameplan with Loki but this is way better than any outcome you could've expected.

***

[shybluebirdninja]

Babe, You Got This

Summary: Logan might have faced wars, claws, and immortal enemies, but nothing prepared him for his wife going into labor.

Pairing            : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff

You’re lying in bed, feeling the occasional twinge in your belly when it hits you like a freight train: Oh shit. Your water just broke.

“LOGAN!” you yell, holding your breath because, damn, this really hurts.

From the kitchen, you hear a clattering of pots. Logan comes bursting through the door, spatula still in hand. “What? What?! What happened?! Is it—oh hell. Oh hell, darlin’, you good?”

You clutch your belly, sweat already dripping down your face, but for some reason, you’re the calm one here. “Yeah, babe, it’s happening. Baby time.” You manage a half-grin through the pain.

Logan, on the other hand, is losing it. “SHIT. Okay, okay, lemme grab the—wait—no, wait, do we have a hospital bag? Where’s the car keys? Where the hell are my pants?!” He’s pacing now, full-on panic mode, mumbling to himself about “damn doctors” and “how the hell did this happen.”

You just sit there, biting your lip, trying not to laugh because watching the big, bad Wolverine freak out is kind of hilarious. “Logan, babe, breathe. Just get me to the car. We’re fine.”

He’s running in and out of the room, still holding that damn spatula, and when he finally finds the car keys, he throws the spatula behind him like it’s a grenade. “Okay, okay, darlin’, we’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna—DAMMIT, I SHOULD’VE BEEN THE ONE PREGNANT!”

You blink. “Uh, what?”

Logan’s face is pure desperation. “I mean it! Shoulda been me. You don’t deserve this, I do! You’re too young for this shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this pain. I—dammit! Why can’t I be the one carrying the damn baby?!”

At this point, you’re wheezing, both from pain and Logan’s completely ridiculous freak-out. “Babe, that’s… not how it works.”

But he’s already on another train of thought, trying to hoist you out of bed with a mix of adrenaline and sheer terror. “Screw biology. I heal fast! I could’ve popped this kid out in, like, two hours tops! No pain! Why’d I go and knock you up? What the hell’s wrong with me? I’m a monster!”

You giggle in spite of yourself, even as a contraction tightens your entire body. “Babe, stop. I’m fine. Let’s just… go.”

Logan’s still mumbling apologies as he half-drags, half-carries you to the car. When he finally gets behind the wheel, the dude’s sweating more than you are. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and he’s muttering something about “never gonna let you get pregnant again” and “damn doctors better not mess this up.”

He glances at you. “You okay, sweetheart? I mean—fuck—this is my fault. You’re—dammit, I’m sorry, babe.”

“Logan, chill. Focus on driving.”

The next five minutes are pure chaos. Logan speeds through red lights, honking at random pedestrians, cursing every car in his way. “GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE ROAD! I GOT A PREGNANT LADY HERE, MOVE YOUR ASSES!”

You try to calm him down, but honestly, the sight of him panicking over your labor is too good. He’s shouting at no one, eyes darting between the road and you. And then, out of nowhere, the tough guy starts tearing up. Full-on tears.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I never wanted you to hurt. I should’ve… I should’ve done somethin’. Maybe I coulda—oh, goddammit, why couldn’t I carry the kid?”

You laugh, despite the pain. “You? Pregnant? Can you imagine?”

“Don’t even joke about that!” he barks, but there’s a hint of something in his voice—like maybe he actually wishes he could.

When you finally get to the hospital, Logan’s a sweaty mess, practically carrying you through the doors while yelling for help. “HEY! HEY! My wife’s havin’ a baby! Somebody help her!”

The doctors rush you into a room, and suddenly it’s all systems go. Except… Logan doesn’t look so good. He’s pale, eyes wide, muttering something like, “I can’t believe I did this to her,” and—yep, he’s down. He collapses into a chair, one hand clutching his chest like he’s just been shot.

“Logan? Logan!” you call, but he’s already half-unconscious, mumbling apologies.

A nurse rushes over to him, placing an oxygen mask on his face while he’s laying on a hospital bed right beside yours. “We’re gonna take care of him,” she assures you.

For the next twenty minutes, it’s you, the labor pains, and Logan passed out next to you. Every once in a while, he mutters something from his semi-conscious state. “Should’ve… been me. So sorry, babe…”

When it’s finally time to push, Logan snaps awake like he’s missed the most important game of his life. “NO! I’m here! I’m here, darlin’!”

The doctor gives him a side-eye, trying to keep him calm. “Sir, are you sure you want to be in here? You’re not lookin’ too—”

“I’M STAYIN’. NO WAY IN HELL AM I LEAVIN’ HER SIDE.”

He grips your hand, tears streaming down his face. You can barely concentrate through the pain, but you manage to laugh when he whispers, “I’m so sorry, babe. I should’ve been the one. You’re too good for this.”

And then, the baby’s out. Logan’s crying—like, ugly sobbing. “He’s beautiful, darlin’. Oh god, he’s beautiful. Oh God… he’s so damn perfect.”

And then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Logan’s eyes roll back, and he drops like a brick, passing out cold on the hospital floor.

The doctor sighs. “Well, there he goes.”

You laugh softly, exhausted but deliriously happy, as they haul Logan onto the bed next to yours, leaving you to marvel at both your baby and your overly dramatic, ridiculously tough husband, who fainted at the sight of his son.

[seiwas]

I reached fuxkinf 30 tags 😭

the way he’s shaking oh my god kit he’s so nervous i actually feel like crying just — that whole interaction, the laugh, the tears; everything is so vividly thick with emotion oh my GOD

And he cracks a small smile thinking he might cry too?! OH baby i am 😭😭 then he fucking says it ‘you told me to do it scared’ GOOOOOD KIT THAT FUXKING CALLBACK 😭😭 WHAT IT MEANS 😭😭 how he’s listened to you all this time, how he’s carried that lesson with him for YEARS 😭😭

So he’s asking u to marry him scared. That you’d say no. That he’s stutterz godgodgodgodgod *head in hands*

and when reader asks have you asked me ? And he’s like, he was gonna have a speech THEN GETS CHOKED UP ABT IT ARE U SRS RN I THINK IM IN LOVE W HIM 😭😭😭😭 and he’s like ‘maybe ill have to save it for later’ oh GOOOD he rlly would do that. I think he’s just so the type to prepare these things and have it all he thrown to the side in the last minute 😭

And its so real so true. You not needing anything else but just him asking it. To hear him say it. Ih god the devotion

And and and an ddint even get me started when he takes your hand, still shaky, runs his thumb across ur ring finger 🥺 dont eeeeven get me started there ill cry aksmdkdnn and he says ‘ok ill do it’ oh my fod biggest dork ever i love him

GET ON WITH IT HAJIME 😭😭😭😭

Then he kisses where the ring would be 😭🥺😭😭 then looks up at you even while youre scared 😭😭😭 will you marry me murmured into your knuckles oh my god ig my gohs skisbssinsiensincjrnd im gonna pass oUTTTG

Holding himself uprigjt to kiss u properly? Oh i would rusjsjdjdjdjdndn

And their banTER AFTER. How he places the rinf on you. THE BAAAANTERRRRR

His eyes are so soft that you knkw theyre for you <- ARE U KIDDING ME RN . RU FUCKING KIDDING ME RN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 im waging wars for him . Flinging myself across the ocean

KIIIIIT I LOVED THIS SO MICH as you can tell lol im barely coherent but like . I loved this so much i have no words

you told me to do it scared

Iwaizumi was sixteen when he lost all of his fear.

He doesn’t really remember exactly what it was that the two of you were talking about, or when, but he remembers how his voice echoed in the alleyway home — the shortcut, he called it.

Iwaizumi remembers rambling and he remembers that you let him; you were never one to cut him off. He was a good listener, as it could be especially hard to get a word in around people like his group of friends, but you?

Around you? He couldn’t shut up.

He was rambling on and on about something — he forgets what, but it was big for his sixteen-year-old self. Nerve-wracking.

“Are you done?” he remembers you asking, side-eyeing him as you walked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m done.”

“Great. What are you even worried about, Hajime?”

(He still doesn’t know what. It turns out that you were right, and it was so insignificant that he can’t even remember what was bothering him to this day.)

“I don’t know. Rejection. Failure—“

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Yes, because Hajime Iwaizumi is known for failing.”

He furrowed his brows. “Don’t be mad that I’m nervous.”

“Scared, Haji.”

“I’m not—“

(You gave him a look and he shut his mouth.)

“So what?” he asked then, dropping his hands in his pockets. You never really knew why he was so good with you, why he talked so much — you never dared question it. “How do I get over it and just do it?”

You smile, shaking your head.

“You don’t get over it. You do it scared.”

“What?”

“Fake it ‘til ya make it, Haji.”

(Iwaizumi doesn’t remember what he did, but he knows he did it terrified; he did it well, too. Passed the test, won the game, cleared the hurdle, got the job. Whatever it was.)

Iwaizumi was sixteen when he lost all of his fear. He’s twenty-eight when it all comes crawling back.

By now, he’s more than a decade older with a bunch of fearlessness under his belt, from spiders put back outside to funny noises in the yard. He’s carding his fingers through your hair on the couch you both picked out, and he hasn’t been this scared in a really, really long time.

(Probably not since you told him that he just needed to do it.)

Iwaizumi is scared because, for the first time in the three months he’s been carrying your ring in his pocket, he really wants to fucking give it to you.

He’s always wanted to — no shit, it’s why he bought it — but tonight is the first time he wants to ask you. He doesn’t just want to picture it on your finger, he wants to feel it against his hand when he holds yours.

The same movie you’ve seen four times plays on the TV. You’re leaned right against him; your eyes are heavy, you’ve yawned a few times.

Half of him wants to do it, half of him knows it’s late.

It’s just — it’s you in his shirt, in his sweatpants, in his arms. He has been yours for way too long to not have done this sooner, but neither of you have ever been in a rush to do anything.

Until now, half past midnight on your long weekend and all he wants to do is plan a wedding.

Iwaizumi can’t even sit in his imagination for long, because soon enough you’re sitting up with a look of confusion and you’re lifting his hoodie up, putting a hand over his heart.

“What?” he says, half a breath and half a laugh.

You look … concerned. He can’t tell whether he thinks it’s cute or distressing. “You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Hajime, your heart is racing.”

“Is it?” he asks. He sets his hand beside yours. “Nope, don’t feel it.”

You roll your eyes, yanking his sweater back down as you sit at his side. “Well, something is making you two steps away from arresting right here. Spill before I call an ambulance.”

“It’s nothing, seriously. Watch the movie, will you?”

“But I’m nosy, damnit. Don’t you know me at all?”

God, so fucking well. Somehow, not well enough. Tell me more. Tell me everything I already know.

“It’s nothing!”

“Hajime,” you say, and finally your voice is stern. “Whatever you want to say, you know I could never be mad at you for it.”

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath. The box in his pocket feels like it’s made of fucking lead.

“I—“

“Stop. It.”

(He does. He stands up instead.)

“Okay, wait,” you start again, “I didn’t mean leave.”

“Give me a second, damn,” he groans, dusting off his pants, checking it’s still there. Of course it’s still there, but if it wasn’t, this would be bad.

Iwaizumi knows you deserve a thousand flowers and a candle-lit beach, and maybe he’ll give you both. But he’s neck-deep and the water is rising; it’s now or within the next hour, really.

“Hey, are you alright? You’re pale,”

“I’m fine,” he reassures you. Iwaizumi kneels in front of the couch.

“Hajime,” you say again, face contorted in worry. “Seriously, are you—?”

You don’t just trail off, you jump off the road.

In one of his hands is a box. A small one, fitting for a ring. His other hand rests on your knee.

“Are you—“

“—dead serious? Yeah,” he says, sounding way less strong than he looks. “I am.”

He opens the little box, showing you what’s inside. It’s in your colour, a pretty diamond glistening beneath the warm light of your table lamp and the movie. You swear you even mentioned that shape once, probably years ago.

“No,”

“Yeah,” he says, “yes.”

“Are you serious?” you whisper, feeling your tears jerk to the surface, rimming your eyes. You rest a hand on his.

He’s shaking.

“Hajime,” you laugh, wiping a hand under your eye. “You’re shaking.”

He sighs.

“I know,” he nods. Iwaizumi cracks a small smile — he thinks he might cry, too. “You told me to do it scared.”

Your brows furrow and unfurrow in the matter of a few seconds. Yeah, you did say that.

(You were sixteen and talking about less major things, but you did say that.)

“So I’m doing it,” he finishes. “Scared.”

“Scared of what?”

He shrugs. “That I’d stutter when I ask you to marry me. Or that you’d say no.”

You smile. “Have you asked me?”

“Not yet. I was gonna make a speech, but I,” he slows. He stops — he has to, he’s getting choked up. “I might have to save it for later.”

“I don’t want a speech, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. Iwaizumi takes your hand in his shaking hold, his thumb swiping over the top of your ring finger. “I’m gonna do it now.”

“Get on with it, Hajime.”

You’re unmistakably excited.

Iwaizumi kisses where the ring will be if you tell him yes. Scared and all, he looks up at you.

(He speaks the words you’ve been waiting for into your skin. Will you marry me? murmured into your knuckles.

You don’t even tell him yes. Not coherently, anyway.)

You throw yourself into his chest and he has to hold himself up against the coffee table behind him to kiss you upright.

“Yes,” you answer again, over and over. “Even if you were scared to ask.”

“It just means I love you, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, taking your hand and moving it back in front of him. He slips your ring onto your finger. “Just scared on the off chance you were gonna spit in my face—“

“Shut up,”

“Hey, don’t talk to your fiancé like that.” Iwaizumi hesitates, looking up from the ring to your face. His eyes are so soft that you know they’re for you. “That has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Fiancé,” you repeat. Husband to be.

“Yeah. That does sound pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“Just imagine how I think fiancée sounds, honey.”

“And look — you didn’t even stutter.”

“Oh, come o—“

“Careful what you say, now. Happy fiancée, happy life, Hajime.”

“I don’t think that’s the saying, but okay.”

note; tagging @shotorus because this is your man :3 happy late birthday sel!

[mochirizu]

hey chat what if clementine was real

quick clarification!! there's a running gag in ouaw that torbek is in a supposedly failed ish relationship with a cardboard cutout so i was like 'hey what if she was real and not made of cardboard and they were happy' because dammit he deserves it

[kennahjune]

No Upside Down steddie AU where Steve gradually meets the members of Hellfire (-Eddie) in and out of school and they all come to befriending him really fast because “Steve Harrington is actually a good dude”

But Eddie fucking hates it.

And this only spurs Hellfire on because they think him getting mad over Steve Harrington is fucking hilarious.

Jeff who takes a foods class in third period and Steve does to and then the teacher pairs them for a baking project and Jeff gets to go to Casa Harrington. And he realizes rather quickly that Steve really likes baking and cooking and actually knows what he’s doing and that he’s not just taking the class for an easy A.

Brian (I’ve named him Brian, yes), meets Steve in Art class. Like Jeff, he thought Steve was taking it for an easy A but when seats are changed and they sit together he realizes that, no, Steve’s actually kind of good at drawing (particularly scenery). They get to talking about one of Steve’s sketches and the rest is history.

Gareth doesn’t officially meet Steve until later, but he does see him out with the kids at the arcade. Gareth works at the arcade and there’s this particular group of kids that just irks him— turns out they’re Steve’s gaggle. He watches in begrudging amusement while Steve rounds them up like a pro.

Then Gareth officially meets him after Hellfire one day. It’s fucking windy and he’s just leaving to school to go home when the papers and sheets he was holding are fucking torn from his hands. Steve grabs the papers— there after some kind of sports practice— and makes sure Gareth has them secured in his bad before leaving with a dorky finger-waggle wave.

And Eddie just downright refuses.

And then the school year ends and Steve graduates. And he’s convinced he doesn’t have to see Steve again.

Until, of course, Mike Dustin and Lucas join.

Jeff, Gareth, and Brian are all ecstatic to share their own run-ins of Steve Harrington to the three boys who so clearly idolize him. Gareth happily recalls how Steve “tamed” them in the arcade every time he came in.

Eddie sits in brooding silence.

And then Lucas joins the basketball team. And sure— Jeff’s on the volleyball team— but basketball jocks are so much worse than volleyball jocks.

Mike and Dustin, however thrown out of orbit they were at first, seem to settle in eventually and learn to plan around it. They think that anything that makes Lucas happy is a good thing (even if it did take a bit of a talk with Will for them to realize).

But Eddie? Eddie can’t stand it.

Which is why he refuses to move the date for the final campaign.

But Eddie doesn’t even get to introduce Vecna before Steve Harrington himself is all but breaking down the fucking door.

Eddie has this whole argument in his head that quickly dwindles when he sees the pure anger in Steve’s eyes (and also because Steve is really fucking pretty holy shit).

Steve tells Dustin Mike and Erica to pack up and get to the game before he drags them and you know what?

They listen.

Including hard ass Erica Sinclair.

And then idk Steve and Eddie get into a whole fight about.

But Steve makes it very clear that he doesn’t appreciate Eddie making Lucas feel like he can’t be happy doing DnD and basketball because that poor boy deserves nice things dammit.

And Eddie sleeps on it over the weekend before hunting Lucas down first thing Monday morning to apologize.

Lucas forgive Eddie (against Eddie’s protest because let the man grovel) but makes Eddie also apologize to Steve.

Which Eddie does by showing up to the Harrington Estate.

Eddie apologizes and they get high together and the rest is history.

.

I might actually make this into something, it’s already pretty fleshed out but eh

[little-cereal-draws]

These three because I love this ship so much

*Penelope and Diomedes flirting with each other yet again* Odysseus: And you two are sure you're not dating? Penelope: 100%. Diomedes: Of course not! Why would you think that? Odysseus: I wonder why that possibility would even cross my mind, Diomedes. I fucking wonder.

-

Diomedes: Two years ago, I married my best friend. Diomedes: Penelope is still mad about it, but me and Odysseus were drunk and thought it was funny. -

Odysseus: Hey, babe, remember how I had to go to the pharmacy to pick up my ADHD meds? Penelope: Yes? Odysseus: Well, it turns out they're all out for the next five days. Penelope: Fuck. Odysseus: It's gonna be a fun week! Penelope: I'm going to Diomedes's house. Odysseus: Nuh-uh. Through sickness and health, motherfucker. -

Penelope: Having two partners is both amazing and complicated. But all our problems are solved with communication. Diomedes: It’s my turn to cuddle Odysseus. Penelope: FIVE MORE MINUTES DAMMIT! -

Diomedes: H-how do you ask someone out? Odysseus: Well, first- Penelope: Don't ask him, he asked me out in a McDonalds parking lot. Diomedes: ...And you said yes? -

*Odysseus is telling a story* Penelope: Wow, Odysseus, this story has everything! Action! Adventure! Romance! Diomedes: Romance? Penelope: I'm in love with him. -

Penelope, holding a rock: Diomedes just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock". Odysseus: If you don't marry him, I will. -

Diomedes: It's pretty cold outside... wanna hold hands? We should stay close. Odysseus, blushing: Okay. Penelope: It's fucking summer. -

Odysseus: If I say I love you, will you say it back? Diomedes: Yes. Odysseus: I love you. Diomedes: It back. *Later* Penelope: Why is Odysseus crying face-down on the floor? -

Penelope: Ooh, somebody has a crush Odysseus: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Diomedes. I just think he's cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about him. *Later that night* Odysseus, very much awake: Uh oh. -

Penelope: Did Diomedes just tell me he loved me for the first time? Odysseus: Yeah, he did. Penelope: And did I just do finger guns back? Odysseus: Yeah, you did. -

Penelope: You don't need my blessing to go kiss Diomedes. In fact, I was pretty sure you were already kissing Diomedes! Odysseus: Nope. Penelope: In that case, as the archbishop of Odysseus's fully awakened gaydom, I give you my blessing to immediately leave and rectify that as soon as possible! Go now, my child, and kiss Diomedes right on the lips!!! -

Odysseus: Thank you all for coming. Penelope, wearing a hospital gown: When I heard you couldn't get laid, I dropped everything and came straight here. Odysseus: Well, I couldn't imagine anyone else being part of the "Fuck Odysseus Task Force". Diomedes: Yeah, I interpreted that in a different way. -

Odysseus: *looking through his closet* Has anyone seen my top? Diomedes: Penelope’s in the kitchen. -

Diomedes: *sucking on a popsicle* Penelope: Pfft, you practicing for when Odysseus gets here? Diomedes: *takes a huge ass bite out of the popsicle* Penelope: *Concern* -

Diomedes: *is wearing silk pants* How does this look? Odysseus: Like its slips on and off really easily. Diomedes: Odysseus: No, I didn't mean it like that- Penelope: We know what you meant. -

Penelope: Can you please just apologize to Diomedes? Odysseus: Fine, but I have to warn you that this may make me a nicer, better person and that is not who you feel in love with. -

Diomedes: Hi, sorry I’m late. I was doing a couple of things and got distracted. Odysseus: I’m “a couple of things”. Penelope: I’m “got distracted”. *Penelope and Odysseus high five* -

Penelope: That shirt looks great, Odysseus. Odysseus: Thanks. Penelope: But I bet it would look even better on Diomedes's floor. Diomedes: Are you hitting on Odysseus... for me? -

Diomedes: Hey, Odysseus? Can I get some dating advice? Odysseus: Just because I'm with Penelope doesn't mean I know how I did it.

[rxzennia]

hibernation/ brumation

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 winter dormancy.

in his five years of being your boss, aventurine hasn’t ever seen you send in a request for leave. but here he is, staring at your application for a month-long vacation.

a month? isn’t that a little too long?

you didn’t even stick a little comment about where you’re going or what’s happening, dammit! he wants to know so bad, but he feels like he’ll either overstep his boundaries or come off as clingy if he asks.

he’ll approve it, of course!

he wants you to not hate your job, and part of being a good boss is letting his subordinates take the leaves they’re entitled to

and you deserve a nice, long break, anyway

but the curiosity is killing him inside. what will you be doing? will you still hang around the IPC?

he really, really wants to barge into your office and wrench an explanation out of you

and also, how dare you try to take leave right into the holidays! rude

he wanted to take you out to dinner! to fancy places! he was prepared to have a schedule full of you!

totally not dates or his attempts to spoil you

he totally isn’t thinking of doing it so that you’ll spoil him in return

he’s found out that you respond to him if he rants at you

and that you get very soft and careful with him if he presses the right buttons

he digs that so much it’s unreal

there’s something about having you, of all people, treat him tenderly

perhaps because he’s seen firsthand what kind of monster hides in your scarf

or… what kind of monster hides beneath your silent, icy exterior

it just hits different when someone like you treat him so gently

and he knows for a fact that you’ll never abuse that power you have

he absolutely loves that. 100%.

“guess who’s here!” aventurine announces as he enters your office without so much as a knock, “hard at work, my favorite secretary?”

“out, please.” you hiss, sparing him barely a glance from your computer, “i’m concentrating.”

since when did your complaints stop him

he saunters over and sits himself on your armrest anyway

your scarf lift him up and set him down on the couch opposite to you

he finds his way back to your chair

you put him on the couch again

he comes back to your armrest

is he a cat obsessed with a particular box (namely, your chair) or something

you give up

“what is it?” you relent, scooting over so he can fit onto your seat, too, albeit barely

this man does not hesitate to invade your personal space

“where are you going for a month, hmm?” he asks with a playful smile, “can’t even tell me?”

oh, so that’s what this is about

but why is he resting his face in his hand and looking at you like he’s trying to flirt?

“hibernation.” you keep typing without giving aventurine much of a reaction, “not exactly, but close. brumation.”

wait. wait, what?

it doesn’t take a genius to know that aventurine is currently flabbergasted. “you… hibernate? like sleep hibernate?” 

“no, i hibernate awake.” you mumble sarcastically, but he catches it even if your words are muffled

“c’mon, i’m just checking!” he throws his hands in the air as if protesting your attitude

“yes, i sleep, for the most part.” you scoot over a little more and lift him up, setting him down in your lap. “but i’ll be awake here and there.”

you rest your head on top of his and continues to work, effectively caging him in

he realizes you’re much more like a snake than he thought

not in an alarming way

you’re coiling around him, but, like, in a friendly danger noodle way

“will you?” he chuckles; maybe his plans aren’t entirely foiled, after all, “for how long?”

you look at him. “a few minutes up to an hour?” 

you’re only getting up for water and/or changing sleeping positions

never mind, his plans to try to spoil you is, in fact, foiled

he pouts. he had the entire thing planned out already! all five days that you’ll be off!

he looks like a kid who’s about to buy the last donut but you beat him to it and buy the donut right in front of his eyes.

“you can visit.” you say, and you see him light up almost immediately. 

though, you don't think there’s much worth visiting, but whatever makes him happy

when aventurine visits you during your well-deserved vacation, he’s pleasantly surprised. you’re sleeping so peacefully, despite the fact that you usually rarely sleep at all.

you’re curled up into half a ball under your blankets and your scarf

and letting out little snores

is this what you look like when you’re asleep? 

so adorable. if only you’d let him see it often…

but he doesn’t know the frequency of your brumation period

as far as he knows, it’s once in five years, but he has no idea if it’s more than five years

you’re not covering your face, either

aeons, he loves seeing your unobscured face

you’re so beautiful under your scarf

especially the patches of scales along your neck, they glitter in white gold under the light

he wishes you wouldn't try to cover them up

during your entire month, he’s going to be in your room whenever he’s free

he will totally try to sleep next to you at night

what? it’s not like you haven’t shared a bed before!

it’s just that you’ve never been asleep by each other's side!

you will cuddle into him if he tries to hold you

and you will get fussy if he tries to get out of the hug

if only you were as honest when you’re awake

aventurine has been trying to catch you in your small conscious windows, but he’s having not much luck with that. though, this isn’t exactly a gamble, so “luck” might not be the right word here.

he’s so busy; he’s drowning in work 

your temporary replacement isn’t very good at their job

or maybe he’s just used to the way you do things and now everything feels wrong

he wants you back already 

because nowadays he barely has an hour to spend with you apart from bedtime

he hates it

what do you mean by he can’t sit next to your sleeping form while he signs papers?

horrible, very horrible

but eventually he does catch you when you’re awake

you’re drowsy and you’re dragging your blankets and your scarf with you around your room

the cutest thing he’s ever seen in a long while

he watches as you clumsily pour yourself some water, spilling some on the table because you can’t line up the jug and the glass properly

and he watches as you sluggishly flop onto your couch after you’ve downed the water

“had enough of the bed?” he asks, sitting down next to you and brushing a few strands of hair away from your face

“hnnnnnngh,” you grumble and turn to face away from him, you just want to go back to sleep

then you remember this is your boss’s voice

and you reluctantly mumble, “it’s too warm…”

do you even know what you’re saying? you’re melting his heart

“oh, that so? it’s too hot over there?” aventurine snickers softly, his hand caressing your face, the cool fabric of his glove making you sigh in delight. “you’re so lovely.”

he recognizes the amount of trust you have in him to let him visit you when you’re sleeping, and it’s doing things to his stomach. you’re so lazy, so barely aware of your surroundings, but you trust him to be around you while you are in this state.

there is an urge, and he acts on it. he nuzzles against your cheek, rubbing your noses together and planting a small kiss on your forehead. he’s been dreaming of holding you like you’re his greatest treasure, but he’s never mustered up the courage to do it. 

maybe someday he will tell you, and then he’ll be allowed to adore you openly the way he’s always wanted to.

“my favorite snake,” he whispers to himself, feeling a shudder of affection throughout his bones, “sleep well. i’ll look forward to taking you out when you rise.”

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Burn

My heart always hurts when I watch the cutscene where Astarion burns under the sun. Dammit Larian Studios

Summary: You chase after Astarion when he runs away from the rising sun and remind him that you chose him.

You watch as blue lines crawl across his skin, steam rising as the sun eats away at him once more, now that he is free of the parasite. You hear the panic and sadness in his voice as reality sets in — he is no longer immune to the sun, condemned forever to live in the shadows. His ruby red eyes lift to meet yours as his skin scorches, an apology falling from his lips and he rushes to find shelter before you can say anything.

“Astarion!” You shout, watching his fading figure. He doesn’t look back, of course he doesn’t, he doesn’t have the time to when all he can think about is how his skin is searing. Your other companions remain rooted but your legs find an extra burst of energy and soon you find yourself hot on your lover’s trail, desperate to find him.

“Astarion!” You call out, panting from the exertion. Running like that just after defeating a Netherbrain was not a good idea, and you can feel your head spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself and lean against the nearby wall, getting as much air into your lungs as possible.

“Astarion,” you gasp, forcing yourself to keep moving, telling yourself that the vampire was suffering more than you were. You stagger onwards, barely remembering where you last saw him and pray that he hasn’t gotten far.

You make your way to a stack of crates hidden behind a docked ship and find a figure huddled in the corner, shaking. You stumble towards the figure, fingers hastily fumbling for the clasp of your cloak which you throw around the figure’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Star,” you breathe, relieved. You feel his arms slide around your waist tentatively, cautiously hugging you back.

“Why are you here?” He whispers. The scent of your lifeblood fills his nose, causing fangs to peek out but he holds himself back, holds the hunger back.

“For you, of course.” You continue to hold onto him tightly. “I’m not leaving you alone, not ever.”

“Why?” He can feel you, feel your warmth, your touch, but a part of him still nags at him, trying to convince him that this is all just a dream, that you want nothing to do with him, not when he is confined to the darkness. He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in the fact that you’re here with him, that you came for him when you could be out in the new dawn with the others.

“Why? Because I love you, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t want a future without you.” Your fingers ghost over the burns, an ache in your heart when you see how badly the sun has burnt him. Even as the sun scorched him, he still took the time to apologise, to look you in the eye, to tell you of how much he enjoyed the journey.

“Even if it means being unable to live in the day? Being unable to feel the sun on your skin?” The words cause a lump to form in his throat. He wants to push you away, tell you to find someone else, someone better. You deserve so much better than whatever he can give you, you deserve to be able to live with the sun warming your skin, you deserve —

“Yes. I know what it means to be in a relationship with you, I know it means never seeing the sun again, never feeling its warmth, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” The fierce fire he fell in love with back then burns in your eyes, daring him to deny you your choice and he feels himself falling for you all over again.

Your devotion to the people you care about, the lengths you would go for each of them, the love you had for those around you. He had once found all these traits foolish, but now they were his saving line, the reason you were currently kneeling by his side, tenderly caressing the rough burnt skin of his cheek as you firmly declared your intent to remain by his side for the rest of your life.

You pull the cloak over his head and shoulders, ensuring they cover as much of his skin as possible.

“I look terrible, don’t I?” He gives a hollow laugh.

“And yet still so beautiful. It’s not fair how you can pull that off.” You chuckle, tilting your head to offer your neck to him.

“Drink up,” you say with a smile so bright it blinds him. “Then we’ll head back to Elfsong Tavern and discuss what to do next.”

He tugs at the cloak around him. It smells of you, the scent deep and warm. He buries himself in it, grateful for the protection it provides and gently rests his lips against your bare neck. His fangs prick your skin, and then dig deeper as blood begins to flow into his mouth. The cracking blue lines on his skin start to fade, his usual pale likeness coming back as he drinks your precious lifeblood, savouring every drop freely given.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your neck.

“Anytime,” you murmur back, holding him close. It always brings a sense of comfort, feeling him in your embrace, breathing in his scent. You hold him for a while longer, basking in the feeling of his cold undead skin against your warm living skin until the others find the both of you.

Your group makes its way back to Elfsong Tavern while shielding Astarion from the sun’s rays. The walk is filled with a quiet yet comfortable silence, exhaustion from the day’s fight and thoughts of the future that lay ahead setting in.

Everyone files into their own rooms, leaving you and Astarion standing in the corridor, facing one another.

“You really mean it?” He asks. He has to confirm, he has to make sure that he is making the right decision to entrust a part of his future to you.

“Mean what?” You tilt your head quizzically.

“That you don’t mind staying with me.” He shifts his weight from one leg to another, playing the corners of the cloak over his head.

“I mean it. We’ll find a way to get you walking in the sun again, and if we cannot, then I don’t mind spending the rest of my life in the shadows.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “You’re all I need, you’re all I want in this future of my choosing. I hope I’m in the future you choose as well.”

In the future he chooses? He…oh right. Cazador is dead, there is no master to tell him what to do, to control his every move. He can decide what he wants to do next, where he wants to go, who he chooses to spend his time with.

And he wants to spend it all with you.

“Of course you are, my love. There’s no one else I’d rather have.” He flashes his usual smile, eyes softening at the way you light up upon hearing his words.

“Then…let’s start planning it, together.”

“Together.” He agrees, liking the way his new future sounds. Even if he had to skulk in the shadows for eternity, maybe such a life wasn’t so bad with you around. He would have you to wake up to, be able to hold you, be loved by you, even if he had to burn under the sun.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 14: Kinich x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7622

Warnings: Afab!reader, brat taming, hair pulling, bdsm elements, blowjob, piv, creampie, mentioned choking

A/N: I like Kinich a lot, actually. That's it. Send tweet.

⭐

Kinich had always thought you a rather strange one, but the full extent of your oddity is something he discovers quite by accident. 

You’re talking to someone whose name he does not know and doesn’t care to learn when he walks into the outpost. He was only there to pick up a few supplies, a simple errand that should have seen him in and out, but instead he finds himself dully watching the back and forth exchange with a mild pang of interest. 

Quickly enough he ascertains that you seem to be upset about something. 

Shortly thereafter he manages to piece together the situation enough to understand what’s going on. You were angry because the person in question — a gruff looking man from the People of the Springs, given his attire — had tried to swindle you out of your rightly deserved mora. As far as he could tell it sounded like you’d already given him the goods he’d wanted but he was now refusing to pay the full amount you were asking for. 

It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence when Natlan was such an expansive nation and the various tribes largely operated independently of one another, a simple fact that sometimes resulted in tension forming between the different factions. There were those few among them who didn’t think their neighboring peoples deserved top mora for their services just because they didn’t come from the same background. Even Kinich had run into this situation a few times before, but he always walked away instead of entertaining it. 

You don’t have that same luxury when your livelihood depended on trading goods for money though. There wasn’t going to be someone else who was willing to pay extra for a bag of flour to make up for the loss of income this man was responsible for, which meant you’d have no choice but to eat it in the long run. 

And that was all the information Kinich needed to know. 

Not stopping long enough to give it any further thought, he steps forward just as you really start to lay into the guy, aggressively jabbing your finger at his broad barrel chest where you’ve got him partially backed up into the corner. A’jaw belligerently questions what he’s doing but Kinich just ignores him as he usually does. He was much more focused on you and the fact you looked like you were moments away from having a full on conniption. 

“And another thing, you big dummy! You come in here demanding to buy up almost all of my stock of — eek!” 

Outright jolting when Kinich suddenly appears next to you, you snap your head around to look over at him. 

“Wh - oh, it’s just you. Don’t sneak up on me like that! Can’t you see I’m a little busy right now?” 

“I can. Let me take care of it.” 

You do a quick double take. “Huh? What are you even talking about? This has nothing to do with you!” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle it from here.” 

The unknown man awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to the other, glancing between the two of you as if he isn’t quite sure which person to focus on anymore. “Uh …” 

“Dammit, Kinich.” Hissing a dangerous sound, you turn on the saurian hunter with a vengeance to snap at him now. “I don’t need your help with this — this shady, two-bit con man. I’ve got it under control!” 

“Well, I think that might be a little unfair - -“ 

“Shut up!” 

Practically spitting like an incensed, angry cat, you jerk back around to look up at the swindler again. It’s not lost on Kinich that he’s quite a bit bigger than both of you and he could have easily caused you physical harm if he’d so wanted. Whether because he simply wouldn’t or because he couldn’t when there was a witness present, it seemed that luck was on your side today regardless. 

You’re halfway through the motion of lifting your hand as if to snatch at the front of his shirt when Kinich abruptly reaches over to grab under your chin. A startled squawk of surprise bursts out of you as he firmly yanks your face back around to look at him, leaving your fingers to harmlessly arc through the air at the distraction. 

Wide eyed and trembling with impotent rage, you flash your teeth at him in warning. “Kinich - -“

“I said I will handle it for you. Do not argue with me again.” 

The following few seconds see a truly unexpected change in your demeanor. At first you look genuinely shocked at not only what he was saying but the way he was saying it as well. He’d never had any reason to drop his voice to that strict tone of command with you before so this particular reaction was at least somewhat understandable. But then a strange gleam comes into your eyes and your expression abruptly relaxes to almost pouty resignation, and he feels something within him subtly shift. 

But by far the most surprising part of it is the way you docilly drop your gaze as if you couldn’t quite look him in the face anymore, which was so unlike you that it almost makes him wonder if he’s done something wrong. 

It’s also at complete and total odds with the unrestrained anger you’d shown only a moment ago, and the difference is so stark in fact that the man standing before you two starts to fidget. 

“Ah, maybe I should just go - -“

“Yes. Let’s step outside for a moment.” Kinich says, forcing himself to snap out of the curious trance he’d fallen into staring at you. Removing his hand from your chin, he glances up at the taller individual to find that he looked uncomfortable enough to comply with just about anything if it meant he could escape from this strange atmosphere that’s fallen over the outpost. Good. At least he wouldn’t have to resort to physically dragging him out. 

“Hehee, you’re in for it now!” A’jaw snickers, floating up to tauntingly wag his butt in the man’s face. “I hope you’re ready to get your teeth knocked in, because that’s exactly what’s about to happen if Kinich is willing to step in free of charge! Trust me, you won’t like him when he’s angry!” 

That outcome does not come to fruition. 

Kinich merely talks to the guy outside of the storefront and luckily he doesn’t need to resort to violence to get you the mora you were owed. If anything he seems eager enough to hightail it out of there that he probably would have paid double the asking price if necessary but Kinich only takes what was needed to cover the man’s bill. The tiny dragon lord is very disappointed by this peaceful end to the confrontation once everything is said and done. 

Stepping back into the store, he finds you still standing next to the counter with your attention fixed on a seemingly random spot on the ground. It looks like you’re lost deep in thought over something so he doesn’t say a word about what just happened as he walks across the creaking floorboards to place the handful of mora down in a neutral spot where you could retrieve it whenever you were ready. 

And he almost turns to walk right back out but thinks better of it at the last moment, pausing a few feet away to peer over at you. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” 

“You didn’t hurt me.” 

Oh. 

He turns that over for a moment, trying to pinpoint the source of your unusual behavior. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me.” 

Oh. 

Now he was really lost. 

But before he can parse it any further than that, you reach out to pick up half of the gold coins sitting on top of the counter before turning away completely. “Take the rest. Consider it payment for helping me out. Thank you, Kinich.” 

Silently, he watches you shuffle into the back of the store, disappearing through the doorway to leave him standing alone in the front with only a grumbling A’jaw for company. You were definitely acting strange, he quickly decides. He’d never seen you so subdued and passive, as if something he’d said or done had flipped a switch in you. Usually you were what most would call a spitfire but this was the exact opposite of that. Like you were more inclined towards servility than you let on, at least when someone used the right tone of voice with you. 

Kinich takes the payment you’d left for him and leaves, and he spends a very long time pondering over this conundrum. 

He spends so long thinking about it, in fact, that it’s not until a few days later that he realizes he’d forgotten to get the supplies he’d needed. 

It almost comes as a shock that he would allow himself to get that distracted by the confounding situation and your equally confounding behavior, but there was no denying a certain interest simmering in the back of his mind now. Something told him you’d liked that little exchange with him even for as brief as it had been, and he was feeling just compelled enough to test it out some more. 

So he returns to the outpost late one evening, shortly before you usually closed up shop, and your glowering attention immediately snaps up at his entrance. 

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to — oh. It’s you again.” 

“I forgot to buy what I came for the other day.” He says simply, giving a vague gesture at the store at large. “Do you mind if I grab a few things real quick?”

“Help yourself.” You quickly respond, a little too quickly if he’s being honest. 

But Kinich pretends not to notice it for the time being as he walks around to gather up the short list of items he needed. A new coil of rope, a whetstone for his blade, a jar of candied yams, as a treat. 

Meanwhile, left to his own devices, A’jaw floats away from him to hover in your general direction. 

“Do you know in whose presence you’re standing, little human wretch?” 

“Well, I’m sitting down, for starters.” You snip back at the small dragon. Evenly matched tempers right there. “And we’ve been over this before. You’re the self proclaimed ‘Almighty Dragonlord’ or some such nonsense. I don’t need another introduction.” 

“Nonsense!” His tiny voice audibly rattles with untapped rage. “You dare to speak to me that way when I could all too easily flatten your puny human settlement to dust! Show me some respect before I make you!” 

“Hah! I’d like to see you try it, fish bait.” 

“Why you - -“ 

Kinich’s ears perk up at that exchange. So he wasn’t just imagining things then. Anytime someone tried to force you to do something you didn’t want to do your claws would come out full force and you were clearly far more inclined to challenge them than roll over in defeat. That still didn’t explain why you’d reacted the way you did when it had been him issuing the command but at least he was starting to get a better understanding of the situation. 

Obviously you weren’t scared of A’jaw, not that he could really fault you for that, and you’d said you weren’t scared of him either … 

Decisively turning on his heel, Kinich walks over to where you’re sitting behind the front counter so he can put his things down for you to tally up. You huff a final sound of annoyance at the so-called dragon lord before reaching over to grab the jar of yams, plainly eager to get both of them out of your store. 

“I could make you do it.” He says so abruptly he almost manages to surprise himself and you suck in such a ragged breath it sounds like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water over your head. 

At the same time the jar slips right out of your hands to clatter loudly against the wooden countertop, nearly rolling straight off the edge of it but Kinich is quick. His hand snaps out to catch it in the palm of his glove before it can fall to the floor and he reaches over to carefully set it in front of you once again. Unfortunately you’re too busy glaring at him to notice or thank him for the save. 

“Make me do what, exactly?” You hiss up at him, eyes narrowed to such dangerous slits he idly wonders if he’s miscalculated something along the way. 

“Show respect. Not to A’jaw, since he doesn’t really deserve it anyway. I mean me.” 

A series of flustered, incoherent sounds escape your mouth while you struggle to come up with a response to that before at last settling on, “Have you lost your mind?” 

“Oooh, and what’s this I smell?” A’jaw croons, nudging his way into the space between the two of you. “Could it really be that my sweet little Kinich has finally gotten to that age? Do you like her? Heehe — hey!” 

Snatching the dragon out of the air, he carelessly tosses him over his shoulder so he can look at you unimpeded. In all honesty he’s not entirely sure what it is that’s making him approach you like this but the deeply flustered look on your face seems to be reason enough for him to continue. He’d enjoyed seeing that softened expression when you’d relented to him a little too much not to. 

That’s not how you’re looking at him right now, of course, but he’s sure he can change that if given half a chance. 

Instead you seem to be rather conflicted about what’s happening, equally torn between being angry at him (something else he couldn’t really fault you for) or giving in to the temptation he presented. That at least he could see clearly in the way you hesitantly regard him as if you were weighing your options. He’s admittedly a bit relieved that he hadn’t misjudged that particular angle of this situation. 

And at last you heave a mildly bothered sigh through your nose. “Fine. I’m game. Show me what you’ve got.” 

He slowly blinks. “Right here?” 

“No, not here! Someone could still come in. There’s —“ A quick glance at the ticking clock on the counter. “Five minutes left until the doors get locked. Can you watch the shop for me, A’jaw?” 

“What? Do you think I’m some sort of measly peon for you to - -“ 

Following Kinich’s lead, you completely ignore the ranting dragon in favor of standing up so you can come around the counter and grab his hand. He’s a tad surprised at your forwardness as he shuffles after you into the back of the shop but at the same time he knows he probably shouldn’t be. You were fierce for your size and pretty looks, so it made a certain amount of sense that a casual encounter such as this wouldn’t have you wilting like a wallflower. 

Apparently that kind of behavior was reserved for a specific tone of voice only. 

And you waste no time plastering yourself to him as soon as you’ve got Kinich in the small attachment to the store where you lived, fully stepping into him as your hands come up to thread into his hair. 

Tugging his face down, you’re suddenly kissing him with an unrestrained hunger that almost manages to catch him off guard. He hadn’t exactly expected this but you were just headstrong enough for him not to be truly surprised by it, and his stomach tightens with the sharp surge of arousal he feels at having you pressed against him so tight. But rather than matching your enthusiasm tit for tat, he takes your face in his palms to make you slow down. 

Groaning a frustrated sound when he eventually pulls back to look at you, your eyes flutter open to pin him with a questioning look. “What? Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“Relax. I’m not going anywhere.” He tells you in a steady voice that seems to make you more confused than it puts you at ease. 

Carefully dipping his face close again, Kinich watches you rattle an huffy breath and eagerly lean forward as if to meet him halfway but he uses his hands on your cheeks to just keep you held out of reach. It’s clear you wanted to crash your mouth into his and likely take control to set the demanding pace you wanted, and he wasn’t going to allow that. 

“So impatient. Do I have to make you take your time as well?” 

You suck in a slow breath at that, fidgeting against him now as if your anticipatory excitement had just ratcheted up another notch. Batting your eyelashes at him rather sweetly, you rove your gaze up to look into his eyes with a decidedly needy look. 

“Are you going to hurt me, Kinich?” 

He stiffens slightly at that. “What? No, of course not.”

“It’s okay if you want to.” You tell him rather dreamily, swaying slightly in his hold. “I like it rough so I wouldn’t mind. You could just choke me a little bit if you want me to behave.” 

Kinich can’t help the frown that tugs at his mouth. “I don’t need to put my hands on you to make you obey. You’re going to listen to me because you want to.”

“Oh?” Giggling a delighted little sound now, you rock back to really look at him, the glint of challenge in your eyes shining clear as day. “And why would I do that? It’s a lot more fun being bad, you know.” 

“Do you really believe that?” 

You start to open your mouth to respond but hesitate at the unfaltering way he looks at you, brilliant green and serpent yellow starbursts boring straight through your exterior defenses. He isn’t sure what, exactly, passes through your mind in that moment but whatever it is, it makes you nudge your chin up in defiance. 

“And what do I get for being good?” 

“I can show you?” 

At your stilted nod, Kinich sighs carefully through his nose as he drags one of his hands further up to tangle in your hair. Once he reaches the back of your skull he closes his fingers around the root and experimentally tugs to test your reaction. Just as he’d expected, you hum a pleased little sound and tip back into the gesture, small smile curling across your lips now. 

It immediately vanishes however, morphing into an open mouthed gasp when he gives it a harder pull to yank your head back at a vulnerable angle. He keeps the tension in his arm steady and controlled to apply just enough pressure that leaves your neck bent in a submissive pose, mindful not to overdo it and hurt you. Only then does he lean in and close the distance to fit his mouth over yours, claiming your lips with the steady yet demanding push and pull of his. And you react beautifully, shuddering faintly against him as you start to kiss him back. Slow at first, just like he’d wanted, but you quickly become too excited to wait any longer. 

As soon as you start to get too pushy and demanding, he pulls back to leave you whining softly into the air again. If he’d been a lesser man, someone who was far more easily ruled by his emotions, he all too quickly would have given in to the desperate way you proceed to groan his name at him. 

“Kinich!” Like an oath and a curse all wrapped into one. 

He doesn’t care about that though. Not when he now had a point to prove, and he wanted to see you looking so soft and tame for him again. 

“Don’t rush it, little mačka. You’ll take what I give you when I give it to you, okay? I don’t plan to leave you wanting but you need to show some patience.” 

Whimpering quietly, you stiffly bob your head in a brief nod. The motion tugs on your hair, as well as his hand where it’s still gripping onto it, and he uses that leverage to smoothly pull you in again on a controlled trajectory. You bounce slightly on your toes to indicate your excitement but otherwise let him take the lead and guide you into it. 

But he pauses when his lips are only a hair’s breadth from yours, letting the moment hang for a drawn out beat to test your ability to listen. He’s quite pleased, almost strangely so, when you simply hover there against him, clearly wanting Kinich to hurry up and kiss you, yet you don’t try to take it by force or make him do it. You merely wait, somewhat roughly breathing in the same air you and him swap between each other before he finally deigns to speak. 

“Be patient.” He tells you one last time, reminding you again before he closes the distance to press his mouth firmly into your trembling lips. 

Groaning a low sound, you carefully kiss him back with a noted effort to match his pace instead of barreling in full force. He can tell by the tension running through your body that it’s a difficult thing for you to do, settling into this sedate rhythm rather than demanding he give it to you hard and fast, but you do an excellent job of keeping yourself in check this time. 

Such a good job in fact that he soon rewards you by deepening the exchange, using his hold on your hair to tip your neck a little further to one side. His tongue comes up to brush over your lips with a coaxing swipe and you obediently part them for him, allowing Kinich to slip inside and truly taste you. 

Clearly you weren’t used to submission without a certain amount of force being involved and that worries him slightly. Just what kind of relationships were you accustomed to? He didn’t like the thought of anyone choking you to bring you to heel, least of all himself, but you seemed to be responding well enough to his gentle yet firm guidance that he didn’t think it was an entirely lost cause. He just needed to show you that being good netted even better results for you than the reverse. 

Finally pulling on your hair to walk you back a step, Kinich at last disengages from your mouth to leave you breathlessly gasping in the aftermath. 

“Where is your bed?” He murmurs, bringing his other hand down to brace along your waist and steady you. 

“Over there.” Your voice sounds thick and almost intoxicated as you vaguely nod to the right. 

He could see that the two of you were standing in a small sitting room that connected directly to an equally small kitchen but there wasn’t a whole lot in the way of available surfaces for him to set you on in here. Nothing that looked particularly appealing to him in that moment anyway. So he makes careful work of guiding you towards the doorway on the right side of the room where you’d indicated, dropping his hand to loosely grip the back of your neck instead. 

Sure enough there’s a comfortable bed waiting inside which is where he steers you, indicating that he wanted you to sit. You do this without a fuss and he moves to situate himself between your knees while he works on pulling off both of his gloves before setting in to unfasten the belt that keeps his coveralls in place. 

Attentively watching him the whole time, you visibly hesitate until he moves to kick off his boots and you can’t quite seem to keep quiet any longer. “Should I undress too, or …?” 

The fact you’d even asked brings a small smile to his face. Obviously he was getting somewhere with this if you were seeking his approval first before acting on the impulse. 

Leaving his coveralls to loosely slouch around his narrow hips, he shuffles close to nudge your feet apart and settle against you like that. “I’ll take care of it. You’re more eager than I thought you’d be though. Have you given this much consideration before now?” 

“It’s not exactly that,” You murmur, head tipped back to look up at him where he’s standing over you. “But you said you could make me respect you and … make me be good. I wanted to see what you would do.” 

“And how’s that coming along so far?” 

Pulling a quick face at him, you let your mouth curl into a slow smile. “Better than expected. I’m not used to being such a passive participant though, or being handled so carefully for that matter.”

“Mm. Maybe that’s part of the problem then. If no one’s ever taken the time to show you a gentle hand I guess that explains why you act the way you do.” 

You prickle just ever so slightly. “Which is?” 

“Exactly that. You’re always ready to challenge someone and throw your weight around, like you’ve got something to prove. But I’m starting to suspect you actually want to be good, you just don’t know how yet.” Drawing a barely audible breath to ground himself, Kinich leans down to put his face in yours and look you right in the eye. “Well, I’ve got news for you. You’re not nearly as tough as you seem to think you are. I saw the way you reacted when I took that tone with you the other day. It’s one thing if you really do just enjoy a bit of choking and whatever else, but to assume that’s necessary to make you behave?” 

He gives his head a slow shake which you eagerly follow the motion of with your gaze, as if you were transfixed on him. 

“Like I said,” Kinich continues. “I don’t need to put my hands on you to make you listen. I’m not going to hurt you. Not today and not ever. I don’t need to. May I?” 

Blinking out of your trance, you glance down when he nudges his folded over belt at you. He can see uncertainty reflected in your expression for all of half a second, indicating that you weren’t quite sure what he was planning to do with it, but you still nod your head all the same. He’s not sure if it simply meant you trusted him at his word or if it was that troublesome self flagellating streak rearing its head again, but he makes a mental note to address it later after he’d made his point. 

Carefully reaching down, he takes both of your wrists and guides them back behind you. Stilling like that, Kinich gives you a brief moment to process what he wants to do, allowing you a chance to change your mind, but when you don’t protest he gets to work securing your arms in place. Leaning over you like that puts his face so close to yours the two of you are once again left swapping oxygen back and forth, and you issue a faintly dreamy sigh as you intently peer up at him the whole time. 

Pausing to test the give of his belt once it’s tied in place to ensure it was snug but not too tight, he sedately straightens up again. You’re left squirming in place, eagerly watching when he reaches for the front of his pants so he can nudge them down to pool at his ankles and leave him standing in only the second skin of his black top. 

His cock had started to flag in the interim between when he’d first stepped back here with you to making the move to your bedroom and then getting you situated, but it gives a weighty flex in the air now as he steps out of the coveralls to kick them away. You give your lips a salacious lick but he sees that look you give him, quickly reaching out to thread his fingers in your hair before you can swoop in and take him into your mouth.

“Remember what we talked about earlier?” He gently prods you, tipping your head back to make you look him in the face. “You’re going to be patient and take what I give you, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” You whisper up at him, fidgeting slightly as if to grind your pussy on the bed but it’s clear the effort doesn’t do you any favors. Good. He intended to make you wait until he decided you’d earned it. 

Rumbling a low sound of anticipation, Kinich takes his other hand and curls it around the twitching width of his length to point it at you. At the same time he pushes on your head just enough to give you the go ahead and you slowly lean in to press your lips against the meaty tip of his foreskin. Noising a low hum at the taste of precum, you roll your eyes upward to look at him for further direction which pleases him a great deal more than he would have thought it would. He wasn’t usually the sort who was all that into power games but the way you peer at him from under the fall of your lashes … it’s enough to have him quickly filling out again. 

“Focus on the head for right now.” He murmurs, angling your neck just a pinch to the side, encouraging you to nuzzle your mouth up into it. 

At his command your lips gradually part and your tongue comes out to lightly lave over him with deliberate little kitten licks that make his cock subtly bounce. And you quickly have to straighten up, scooting to the very edge of the bed when it stiffens to stand straight into the air, turning rigid and hard the more you work your tongue over him. The expansion of his length naturally pulls the foreskin taut over the glans, giving you a chance to dip inside and taste the source of that salty discharge directly. 

Groaning a soft sound as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive tip, trying to nudge the foreskin back a little further, Kinich slowly lets up his loose grip on the shaft in favor of reaching down to idly massage over his balls. He’d make sure to have you show them some attention as well before this was over but he makes a concerted effort to take it as slow as possible. It was a good test for you, especially when he could tell you were struggling against the urge to take more of him into your mouth. 

It’s obvious you want to, from the way you softly moan around him to the not so subtle bob of your head to accompany the suction you apply, as if you thought you could tempt Kinich to action if you just sucked his cock well enough. It’s decidedly bratty behavior, he abruptly realizes as he watches you, and the fact you’d still think to test him even now seems a testament to just how stubborn you really are. But the fact you’re still going along with it and playing by his rules seems to him a good sign all the same. That meant he could work with you and probably even train that bad etiquette out of you, or at least put a leash on it. 

Issuing a rattling sound of pleasure at the thought, Kinich takes his hand off his ballsack and reaches up to palm the side of your head with it. Using the grip he’s got on your hair for leverage, he stiffly rocks his hips forward to slide deeper into your mouth. He only goes a third of the way though before pulling back to repeat the process, steadily fucking into the wet, warm space between your lips with halfhearted little jabs. The abrupt increase makes you noise a plaintive sound around him even for as slight as it is, and you make a vain attempt to push back on his hands. 

It’s no use though. His arms are like solid iron where they’re locked in place around your head, and you have no choice but to take it while he drags his cock over your tongue to further activate your salivary glands. His attack on you is twofold, because aside from reinforcing that you're at his mercy like this it also has the added bonus of making spit bubble out from between your lips to dribble down your chin. Even from his elevated position over you, he can see the glistening strings of spittle starting to run out of your mouth and he moans another shaky sound at the visual. 

“Gods, you look so perfect like this. And you’re being such a good girl too. How do you like having that cock in your mouth, huh?” 

A largely muffled sound tumbles out of you but he quickly smothers it the next time he shoves his stiff length over your tongue. Between that and all the spit forming in your mouth, you gag slightly and the resulting cough makes a fresh sheet of drool come rushing out of your lips. 

Deciding to be nice and give you a short reprieve, Kinich nudges back just enough to slip his cock free and leave you sucking in a haggard mouthful of air. As he tips your head back to make you peer up at him again, still struggling to catch your breath, he’s struck by the plain look of flushed submission that stares back at him. You were so soft and malleable for him in that moment that he almost doesn’t even believe it. Were you really the same spitfire he knew? 

“Kinich …” 

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? I thought you wanted me to be rough with you.” 

You give a breathless laugh at that, pinning him with a needy little pout. “That’s not what I’d call being rough. It’s just frustrating.” 

Just as he’d hoped it would be. “And why is that?” 

“You’re still being so gentle with me.” Whining softly, you rock slightly to the side but he’s quick to straighten you back up again, making you sit nicely on the side of the bed even when you try to slouch away. “Please, Kinich. I promise I can handle it.”

Watching you fitfully writhe in place, trying again to grind your pussy on the bed, he can tell that it’s not necessarily impatience he was seeing — or at least not the pushy kind you’d exhibited earlier. Now it’s just that you’re so excited by what’s happening and the way it makes you feel that you wanted more of him. All of him. Perhaps there was even some nervous anticipation at play too, when you had no feasible idea what he was ultimately going to do with you. 

The end result has you looking so sublime and wanton that he feels compelled to give in, to reward you for listening as well as you have. He knew it wasn’t easy for someone as temperamental and stubborn as you to do, and that it would take time spent working on this to see you truly give in to the subservient side of your personality. 

But he still has a point to drive home, so he gently tips your face upward to make you look at him again, even when your heavy eyelids droop with an inviting flutter. 

“I already told you I wasn’t going to hurt you, didn’t I?” 

“Mhmm.” Humming in agreement, you briefly nod your head for him. 

“Good girl. You certainly deserve a reward for being so nice for me, but I want you to complete the task I gave you first before that. Think you can do it?” 

Rousing slightly at his soft, coaxing tone, you nod again with a little more conviction this time. “Yes. I’ll do it.” 

He graces you with one of those small, exceedingly rare smiles before leaning down to kiss you. The taste of himself lingers heavy on your tongue, and he groans a faint sound into your lips at the salty bitterness. 

Kinich is quick to pull back though, and he readjusts his hold on your head and in your hair so he can wrangle you around how he wants. You breathe out a shuddering exhale as he gets you pulled back into place so he can shuffle tighter into the space against the side of the bed to press his cock along your mouth. Giving you a short moment to kiss and nuzzle at it, he then directs your face a little lower to press you into the dangling weight of his balls. 

You don’t need any further instruction than that, rumbling a hungry sound when you deliver a lingering peck to one teste before sucking it into your mouth. It’s his turn to let out a faltering sound now while you carefully swish it back and forth over your tongue, nudging at the sensitive flesh just enough to make his toes curl. 

This is another moment where he’s sure that if he’d been any less in control of himself he would have given in to the urge to shove you back and mount you like a frenzied beast. He’s very tempted, truth to be told, and he’s relatively certain you would like it too, but he refrains. Both because he wanted to set the example and to help temper your own eager arousal a little bit. 

And it seems to work given the very docile way you take your time with it, just idly sucking on his balls with the full brunt of your attention focused on this task rather than allowing yourself to get distracted by your pussy. He can imagine you’re not used to that either, and it’s easy for him to guess at what kind of men you’d been with in the past based on that observation, but he can’t bring himself to hold it against you. 

It’s not like he was really all that different, considering his own past and the kinds of relationships he’d grown up with. In fact, it was probably more surprising that he hadn’t turned out in a similar way than if he had. All of the signs were likely there. 

But there’s a small part of him that hopes his poor attempts at stoppering whatever these self-destructive behaviors are, if that’s really what it is, will have some sort of positive impact on the future. It was the best he could do given the scope of his own circumstances. 

And when he finally pulls your face away to leave a glistening string of spittle stretching between your mouth and his balls, wetly gasping as you glance up at him with such a vulnerably needy look in your eyes, he feels certain that it will. You deserved better than being forced to bend and submit under duress. This was much better for you, and his own heart as well. 

“Are you ready for your reward?” He gently coaxes you, knowing the answer already but still making the point to ask even if only to reinforce that you had the control here without needing to be pushy about it. 

Just as he’d expected, you quickly bob your head in a shuddering nod. “Yes, Kinich. Please. I’ll be good.”

“I know you will.” That was really all he asked of you. 

Breath rattling in his chest now, he eases back from you just enough so he can bend at the waist and nudge you into lying back against the bed. You comply with a delirious little mewl, squirming slightly on top of your bound warms while he grabs at the hem of your breezy dress to hike it up the length of your body. 

As more and more of your body is revealed to him, so soft and femininely curved, he realizes in a distant sort of way that it was going to take every ounce of his willpower to take this slow instead of losing himself in you. Wide set hips perfect for grabbing, a band of pudge around your middle to give him something to press into and a perfect pair of heavy tits dotted with stiff, attention seeking nipples just begging to be tweaked. It was almost too much, and his cock achingly twitches between his legs, threatening to spill over into an early orgasm if he wasn’t careful. 

He realizes he’s softly panting now, as if he’d just finished running fifteen miles straight and he couldn’t quite catch his breath when he moves to situate himself between your bent legs. You’ve got him so worked up he’s not entirely sure how long he can last, but you seem to be in a similar state of high strung arousal considering how your head almost drunkenly lolls back against the sheets. 

Quickly relieving you of your panties — damp, he can’t help but notice — Kinich hooks his forearms under your knees and leans over to brace his hands on the bed, forcing your thighs into a wide spread that leaves your bare cunt fully exposed to him. Whimpering a frazzled little sound, you glance down just long enough to look at the weighty bob of his cock angling towards your defenseless pussy and it makes you go absolutely wild, writhing underneath him with a shuddering gasp. 

“Please, Kinich! Please, I need it! I need it, I need it …”

“I know, I know. Just relax for me, alright? You’ve been such a good girl for me, of course I’ll give you what you want.” Leaning down, he presses a lingering kiss to the corner of your trembling lips where he stays for a drawn out beat so he can internally collect himself. 

Then he pushes up to hover over you, his head hanging low to attentively watch your expression when he begins to lower his pelvis. The sticky head of his cock presses into your equally sticky cunt and wetly skirts across the satiny flesh, making you sob a wordless, broken mewl of desperation. He tries again, angling his hips back and then slowly pushing straight down in time with the internal flex he gives the muscle. That does the trick, and he catches at your entrance where he immediately starts to slide in, and your pussy greedily welcomes the fleshy glans in with a tiny little click. 

Your face twists up in pure bliss at the gradual stretch to your inner sleeve as he feeds more and more of his length into you, hissing in sharp edged relief. He can see your toes flexing just at his peripheral but you’re perfectly trapped like this and completely at his mercy. You can’t even wrap your legs around his waist to leverage yourself or pull him in closer when he’s got them pinned open with his arms. So you just helplessly tremble through the process, wailing a steady stream of stricken noises into the statically charged room. 

And then his pelvis is pressing flush to yours, the dark, coarse curls of his pubic hair intermingling with yours. The sight is enough to make him shudder, groaning a heavy sound even as he makes a valiant attempt to stave off his release, at least until you can cum first. It just seemed like the right thing to do in his cloudy mind, and when he starts to move he doesn’t think it’ll take you very long to find your climax. 

Not only was your pussy completely soaked and readily accepting the continuous slide of his cock, squeezing him tight to try and suck him in even deeper, but your shrill, feminine moans quickly take on a dire tinge once he starts up in earnest. Keeping his thrusts slow and steadily drawn out to make sure you feel every single inch of him that drags against your guts soon has you plaintively sobbing underneath him, begging Kinich to go faster, harder. He doesn’t, of course, and he just takes his time gradually winding you up tighter and tighter until you feel like a wet, trembling vice around him. 

He isn’t sure how much time he actually spends fucking you, far too focused on staying his own release to keep track, but the moment he feels you start to tip over the edge he lets himself go as well. He’d been holding it back through sheer force of will this entire time and as a result it only takes one single slide of his flexing length into the palpitating embrace of your cunt for him to reach his breaking point, the two of you cumming together with a series of seething, masculine groans and girlish squeals. 

In the aftermath when you're both still trying to catch your breath and come down from the high, Kinich looks down at you — really looks at you, and he realizes that this completely satiated, relaxed expression was somehow even better than the submissive one he’d been fishing for. He wanted to see it again, a hundred times more if he could manage it. That meant he’d have to keep coming back then, if you would have him. He hadn’t thought this through quite that far. 

But the way you groggily moan his name, so soft and sweet that it makes his cock give one last shuddering twitch inside you, makes him think that you probably will. It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind or what he’d expected to come of this, yet that doesn’t register as much of a problem for him. 

After all, there was still training to be done.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Demon Brothers - With Flirty Male Reader

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So! While writing this ask I've very quickly figured out that I can't flirt for my life. Thus; this ask was translated into Headcannons instead of my original plan of a split between Headcannons and a Oneshot. I hope you enjoy this because that was a half hour of embarrassment that I can't get back. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

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☕ You're either very brave or very very stupid; there is no in between. The audacity that you have to flirt with the avatar of pride: Lucifer himself is absolutely appalling. This poor overworked demon goes through full 5 minute factory reset just to understand what the fuck you just said to him.

☕ Stop. Please, just have a normal conversation with him. It can be about literally anything— A dream you had last night, the breakfast this morning, Beel's Fangol practice, your homework, how you think he should send Mammon to rehab for his obvious Kleptomaniac tendencies... Lucifer will even indulge in speaking about those weird captioned images and short videos that you call memes; just, please... he understands that he's handsome, but make it quick; he has paperwork to do.

☕ Do you really think that you can flirt your way out of a punishment? First Asmodeus and Diavolo (after Asmodeus spent some time with him, Diavolo attempted to flirt his way out of his Princely duties to take a few hour break) and now you? Goodness, he's surrounded by idiots. You're going to give poor Lucifer gray hairs, you know.

☕ Lucifer may let you bargain your way out of facing his wrath, though. He finds the image of you being ripped from your flirtatious facade and forced to think about things that you could offer him as collateral as he patiently taps his fingers on his desk to be on of the most amusing thing he's seen in almost 200 years. He won't lie; your nervous figiting is pretty entertaining too.

☕ Though... you might want to be a little more careful going forward, lest you catch the avatar of pride on a day that he's particularly stressed; he might just take you up on one of your occasionally more... lewd flirtatious remarks. Perhaps he'll put an end to your flirtatious ways with a well deserved spanking? Lucifer is sure you wouldn't complain, given your very clear attraction to him.

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💰 You broke him; the minute those words left your lips he went completely offline. Of course; Mammon thought that you were just making fun of him at first and tried to see of you'd slip up and insult him like so many others have. However, you only doubled down and now, the poor, flustered avatar of greed can barely look you in the eyes anymore.

💰 Truthfully, Mammon can't help but compare you to Asmodeus with how seem to need to add some sort of flirtatious comment into every sentence. Though you're not as dramatic and not at all cruel like his younger brother. He doesn't see your flirting as a bad thing but he can't help but get jealous when you start flirting with his brothers, Barbatos, Lord Diavolo and that angel. You're only supposed to do that sort of thing with him! He's your first man, dammit!

💰 Flirting your way out of being roped into a money making scheme? Pretty unlikely, believe it or not. When Mammon gets a hint of money he's chasing it and no amout of compliments will get you out of being dragged along for the ride. However, you might be able to flirt your way into getting him to take all the blame when the plan inevitably fails. All you need to do is lay it on thick and he's sold. This demon is madly in love with you, he will do anything you ask and more.

💰 While your first man is okay with taking the fall for you in any situation; he expects you to nurse his sore body back to health after hanging from the rafters for 6 hours again. You'll convince Lucifer to give him back Goldie too, won't you? Of course you would, Mammon doesn't work for free, after all.

💰 Mammon may or may not practice pick-up lines in his bathroom mirror. While he's confident in the solitude of his bathroom; once he's face to face with you his anxiety skyrockets and he stumbles over his words like a drunk man trying to navigate a dark room. You have no idea what you do to him, do you?

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🎮 Sorry, he's dead. Unfortunately, you had to go and flirt with this yucky otaku demon and he keeled over and died from overheating. Leviathan blushed so violently that he liquefied his brain and he fainted right then and there, bonking his head on various objects on his way down. Ah... poor guy...

🎮 Please, please, spare this poor man, he cannot handle it. Leviathan is too precious so go easy on him or he may just never leave that little hidey hole he calls a bedroom ever again. He's not brave enough to face you when you're like that! You may be his Henry but it feels like he's gone in too deep now, he can't even look at his beloved Ruri-Chan like he used to because you wrestled your way into her place! Just what the hell are you doing to him!?

🎮 You want to escape one of his long winded rants on TSL? All you need to do is give Leviathan a lovestruck gaze and his brain is fried; then you can make your escape. Fat Chance! As if he'd ever willing let you opt out of letting him share his one of his passions with you! Malfunctioning or not; he'll keep on talking; whether it's just to continue the conversation or to distract himself from you, we still don't know. You'll let him right? Or... do you think he's just a gross otaku afterall...?

🎮 If you do ever get into trouble with Lucifer for whatever reason; just pop into Levi's room and hide under the blankets in his bathtub while he's distracted by whatever game he's playing at the time. His older brother will never find out and neither will he until he stumbles upon you when he's feeling tired after an excruciatingly long raid. Of course, even after he finds you, he won't tell a soul.

🎮 Leviathan may or may not be hoarding various cosplays of characters with flirtatious personalities that just so happen to be in your size. How he got your measurements for the alleged cosplays is information that he will take to the grave. (He actually just asked Asmodeus but he prefers to seem mysterious about for some reason...)

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📚 Are you sure you wanna do that? Do you really want to take that risk? Truthfully, Satan knows all he has to do is amusedly raise a brow and you'll be quite as a mouse. But he finds it funny that you try to hide your fear of him behind that meaningless banter that you keep spewing. He's almost immune to your antics due to his abundant knowledge of human psychology and the time that he's spent observing you... almost.

📚 You'll have to either say something very shocking or tie it in with cats somehow in order to have an effect on Satan. He hangs around Asmodeus far too often (a personal headcannon of mine is that the two are actually very close) to be very influenced by flirtatious or suggestive remarks too much anymore. Usually he'll either raise a brow at you or just send you a teasing smirk. Though if you play into his vast knowledge and offer him a risqué fact he doesn't know, he'll be very interested.

📚 Wanna try your hand at flirting your way out of being on the receiving end of one if his wrathful outbursts? Are you a fucking idiot? Do you have no self preservation instincts at all?? You best get to steppin'; or else Satan will rip your face right off in his blind rage. To be honest, if you do go and try that, you deserve what you get in return for your stupidity.

📚 If you ever get into trouble with Lucifer, all you need to do is go to Satan and he'll harbor you in his room so long as you keep your hands to yourself. Make sure to let him know whenever you plan on flirting your way out of one of his oldest brother's punishments; he'll bring himself some popcorn. Not only will he get to see you embarrass yourself, he'll also get to see you annoy Lucifer; it's a 2 for 1 deal!

📚 If you catch him in a really good mood, Satan might just flirt back at you. Resting his chin on his palm and looking at you with the softest eyes as he lets loose words so sweet you'd think he was made of sugar. He can be really suave when he wants to, he just has to be in the right mood, ya'know.

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🛍 Look, I'll be blunt; Asmodeus hangs out with literal sex demons on the daily, he's heard everything. He's the avatar of lust; he is unfazed. So when I tell you that this man immediately thinks your just wanting to either have sex or something close to it, I'm serious. There is no if, and, but or in between; you guys are either doing the sideways tango or making out. If you don't want that, don't bother flirting with him.

🛍 Asmodeus is 100% unfazed by your flirting. No matter how sweet or raunchy you get, you'll never pull a big reaction from him. It'll mostly just be little hums of acknowledgement, his well rehearsed smile or bedroom eyes. I don't know what you were expecting, to be honest.

🛍 You think you can flirt your way out of doing anything with Asmo? Haha, no, you silly little human, you.~ He'll give you an airy little giggle and then drag you along to either his bedroom or whatever place that he needed to take you originally. Sometimes he'll strait up ignore you and act like you hadn't even said anything at all. Other times he'll use his charms and make you feel guilty for even thinking about opting out of spending time with him. It's a lose, lose situation; or a win, win depending on how much you like the guy.

🛍 You think he'll let you flirt your way out of one of Lucifer's punishments? Absolutely not! Or, at least, not without him giving you a few pointers first. Truth be told, Asmodeus thinks you have almost no rizz (he still loves you regardless~♡) and as the avatar of lust, he feels like it's his job to fix that! Or... at least try.

🛍 Truthfully, Asmodeus will keep you at an arm's length (for a while until he figures out your true intentions) like he does all of his sex demon friends. He believes you only want him for what they want him for; his body and looks. He won't ever show it but it does take a toll on him. He can breath a sigh of relief when he figures out what you really want from him.

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🍔 It's like talking to a brick wall; Beelzebub doesn't get the implications of your words. And why would he? He's far too innocent and thick headed (in the sweetest way possible) to understand something like that. Why do you even want to flirt with this precious man? Are you trying to corrupt him, you heathen!?

🍔 If you want a flustered Beel, you'll have to drop the flirting all together. Say what you need to say in clear message so he can't confuse any meanings or insinuations even if he tried to. And boom. You'll get a cute, flustered giant with flushed cheeks and an angelic smile. He'll be like a school girl with a crush; shyly fiddling with his fingers and giddily shuffling in place.

🍔 Trying to flirt your way out of sharing your food with Beelzebub? Don't. Give him a portion, you stingy bitch. Flirting aside— how could have the heart to say no to this man, you monster!? Back on topic; flirting will just fly right over his head, so I wouldn't even bother. Just give him some of your food, it's not that hard. You'll get a cute, grinning avatar of gluttony out of it, so what's that harm?

🍔 You're trying to flirt your way out of a punishment from Lucifer? Well... Beel doesn't wanna make his eldest brother mad... but he also doesn't like the idea of not helping you when you need it. He's so torn! What should he do! Unfortunately for you, the poor man will be so caught up in whether he should help you or not, that Lucifer has already found you and now you're hanging from the rafters. Please don't be mad at him, he didn't mean to ignore you, it was just a really hard decision for him!

🍔 When Beelzebub "flirts", he usually offers you some sort of food item that he really wanted to eat. He'll take occasional glances to see if you've eaten it or not and to see your reaction to it so he knows what you like in the future. Accept it! Don't you dare turn down a gift from this sunshine, you'll make him sad!

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🌌 Hey, so... you remember how he killed you via snapping your spine like a toothpick. I really wouldn't recommend flirting with him in any capacity. I don't think Belphegor would appreciate you waking him up to flirt or if he's already awake, which is a rarity in it's self, he'd rather you be quite so he can nap. He's just here to use you as a pillow, not to hear you run your mouth.

🌌 The best time to "flirt" with this slightly homicidal demon is when he decides that you deserve to take a nap with him. (Read as; when he decides to sleep on your bed and use you as a pillow.) However; said flirting must be soft and sweet. Gentle praises in a soft voice. Comb your fingers through his hair. Belphie will drift off to sleep with small smile on his face. Expect him to be in a very flowery mood when he wakes up again.

🌌 You want to attempt to flirt your way out of stargazing in the attic for the nth time in a row? Sure! You do that! In fact, Belphegor thinks that your bones are looking mighty crushable right now. Don't get too ahead of yourself, he's not above physically holding onto you and keeping you in the attic until he's satisfied. You're not getting out of this one, hun.

🌌 On the run from Lucifer? Belphegor's got you covered! Just head on up to the attic while he goes to Satan for a hex he can place on the door to keep the prideful demon away. Anything to fuck with Lucifer will have him come running, so keep him informed, okay?

🌌 On some rare occasions, when you and Belphie are alone together, he can be real sweet to you. Calling you something romantic like his north star or something of the like. However, he quickly ruins the mood with an obnoxious yawn. Whether he does that on purpose or not is up to you.

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