#because of his expressions in DD

[4doorssys]

Charlie Cox has the face of a Victorian child cursed with eternal sadness and I mean this in the most loving way possible for that is exactly my type in men

[lightgriffinsect]

idk how to explain this but psychic gives me toxic chill male bsf vibes

[l0vergirlwrites]

gulity as sin ; eddie munson

synopsis: since eddie joined your friend group, you’ve fallen for him. but sometimes the feelings you’ve harboured for him make you feel guilty—but he’s just too dreamy, so how could anyone blame you?

warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of weed & alcohol & partying, mentions of sexual thoughts, downbad!reader & eddie, love confession & makeout!!!!

note: inspired by taylor swift’s song “guilty as sin”

alsooo i just had to get this out of my system because ahhhh!!!

“just so you know, you’re staring at eddie like you wanna fuck him” robin whispered in your ear as she came to your side with extra vcr tapes to stack near the back of the store.

“jesus! am i really?” you asked in a hushed whisper, face crowing warm with embarrassment. you couldn’t help it when eddie just looked so good as he leaned on the front counter talking to steve.

while you mentally face palmed yourself, robin gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “just a little bit”

peeking back over her shoulder at eddie to make sure he wasn’t looking at you (because you’re anxious & paranoid), you let out a breath of relief. “you think he noticed?”

she laughed “i hope not”

letting out a quiet gasp, you shoved robin’s shoulder “thanks for the vote of confidence, rob” you said sarcastically.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!—but seriously…” she paused for moment to create dramatic effect. “when are you gonna fess up & tell him how you feel?”

the big question.

with a big sigh, you shook your head in retreat. “probably never. it’s just some stupid crush—& besides, we’re just friends. i don’t know if he’d like me like that, rob.” you said while getting back to work, trying to get the image of eddie’s ring clad hands out of your mind so you could focus.

“is that really how you feel? or is your fear of rejection speaking for you?”

narrowing your eyes at her, you rolled your eyes knowing she was kidding (but was she? were you really hiding behind a guise so you wouldn’t get hurt?).

“you know,” she paused to look at eddie. “if he doesn’t want to jump your bones, i’d be floored” she said cheekily, causing you to nudge her rib cage.

“he doesn’t” you stated, but in your mind you hated the thought of it.

“if that’s what’ll help you sleep at night” she chided before moving onto a different shelf, the open space letting your eyes drift back to eddie, only to find that he was looking right at you.

“you coming to the party by reefer rick’s place on the weekend? i convinced stevie boy here to tag along—“

“—& to be the DD. i don’t know how i got roped into this” steve cut eddie off with an exasperated expression.

with the spotlight (eddie’s eyes) on you, you couldn’t help but feel stuck in place & your mind was running a million miles a minute.

clearing your throat, you nodded. “yeah sure! i should be able to if keith doesn’t make me come in last minute”

the last sentence caused eddie to roll his eyes.

“who cares about what keith says—you’re coming & you’re gonna have fun! you’re deserving of blowing off some steam, right?” eddie said convincingly.

“he’s right! fuck keith & his stupid last minute shift calls“ robin agreed with steve soon following suit.

jokingly with your hands up in surrender, you finally agreed. “maybe you guys are right…”

“of course we are, babe!”

the pet name eddie called you made your stomach flip in six directions, your face growing warm until steve beat you to speak.

“when the hell did ‘babe’ get into your vocabulary, munson?” he asked eddie with a quizzical eye.

“oh calm your tits harrington—“

“hey man, i don’t have tits & i am calm so shut—“

“hey!” you yelled, shutting them both up. “no bickering on my watch, idiots” you pointed to them both, causing eddie to place his right hand in his heart in apology.

“what do you expect,” robin chimed in. “they’re five year olds”

you both laughed a bit at her comment while the guys just rolled their eyes.

“well, i’m gonna head out & prep for my next campaign. butttt, i’ll see you geeks saturday?” he asked while twirling his van keys around his index finger.

before steve could try to rebuttle against eddie about him calling you all “geeks”, you beat him to it.

“yes—we’ll be there! bye eds” you waved sweetly, your hand flattering when eddie shot you a wink before heading out the door.

as the glass door chimed & shut after his departure, you immediately turned to robin.

“he winked at me!” you mouthed to her with excitement.

“are you guys secretly talking without including me, again?”

turning to steve, you gave him an apologetic look. “she was just fawning over how eddie winked at her” robin said with a nonchalant smile, causing you to gasp.

“robin—“

“why do you care if he—wait… ohhh… that makes sense” he lit up like a light bulb, going back to checking through the return log on the computer.

you stood there stumped at his reaction.

“is me liking eddie predictable?” you asked aloud, causing steve & robin to share a glance.

“yes” they said collectively, leaving you to sigh & turn back to the shelf to finish stacking the pile of tapes.

**~*~**~*~*~**~*~~*~**~*~*~~***~*

it was now saturday, & you were on speaker phone with robin as you were getting ready for the party.

you had decided to wear a short flowy black skirt, fishnet tights, your favourite black boots, & a dark green babytee with your favourite band on it. it was simple, but cute (& you secretly hoped eddie would think the tights were a nice touch).

“do you think you’ll tell eddie how you feel once you get some liquid courage in you?” she asked genuinely.

with a thoughtful sigh, you stopped applying blush to your right cheek. “gosh, rob—i don’t know. i don’t think it’s a good idea”.

you could tell she was shaking her head from the other side of the phone.

“remember when i was too afraid to tell vicky i liked her?”

you knew what she was gonna say. “yes, i do”

“so, you remember how you told me i should just ‘go for it! do it before it’s too late—what’s the worst that could happen?’, right?”

you slumped in your desk chair, fidgeting with your makeup brush. “yes…”

“sooo, you gotta practice what you preach—tell him before you regret it!” she encouraged, but still, you were horrified to.

“what if—“

she shushed you. “no what ifs. don’t do that to yourself—just be honest when the right moment comes along”

staying silent for a moment, you thought it over in your head before coming to a conclusion.

“maybe you are right, robin”

“i’m always right—regardless of what steve says” her words made you laugh, relieving you of a little stress.

**~*~*~~~*~***~*~**~**~*~*~~*

it was now nine-thirty on the dot & you could hear steve’s beamer honking from your driveway, signalling that it’s time to go. as soon as you stepped onto your driveway, you were met with hollers & whistles from your friends in the car—including eddie.

as soon as you saw him with his head out the window, whistling & vocally saying “shit y/n, looking good!”, you could’ve sworn you were going to collapse then & there.

shushing them before their hyper annoyed your neighbours, you (coincidentally) got into the backseat with eddie.

“you have everything?” steve asked before reversing the car.

“yes, dad” you joked before a silver flask was shoved into your lap.

“got you your favourite” eddie told you with a smile, causing you to audibly “awe” & thank him before taking a swing from it.

despite steve having a fancy car, the backseat was surprisingly small, so you knew it was going to be a long night with how your thigh is already pressed into eddie’s & his fingers were tapping his jean clad thigh dangerously close to your exposed one.

you caught him every now & then staring at your tights too, which didn’t help the fantasies brewing in your mind of him taking them off you.

“you excited?” you asked him while steve & robin were caught in their own conversation.

swiping his tongue across his teeth, he looked at you with a gaze that made your stomach tighten. “as long as you stick close by, then yeah i’m excited” he nudged you gently, allowing you a moment to process what he just fucking said.

tucking your hair behind your ears (a sign that you were nervous & liked him & were going insane), you let the conversation drift into comfortable silence as steve turned the radio up.

thank god for that.

**~*~~**~**~***~**~*~~**~**~*

the party eddie brought you guys to was packed at some random house on lover’s lake.

& it reeked of pot & beer, which was normal & expected.

with the flask eddie gave you in your right hand & eddie’s hand in your other (because the front lawn was packed & he didn’t want to lose you), your group maneuvered your way inside to disco party lights, sweaty bodies, more pot & more beer.

your grip on eddie’s hand was taut as you continued sliding past more & more people while muttering “excuse me, sorry!” over & over until you guys arrived on the dance floor.

“do you want anything?” eddie leaned down & whispered into your ear so you could hear over the music.

you took a second to answer because of how warm his breath felt against your skin. “no i’m okay, i got this remember?” you said with a smile, holding up the flask he gave you.

returning you a smile, eddie let go of your hand because robin was pulling you to dance a little.

“be back in five!” eddie mouthed to you, holding up five fingers & looking at you until you waved in acknowledgment.

“okay there’s no way he doesn’t want you” robin yelled into your ear as the song changed & people roared happily.

laughing & shaking your head, you disagreed.

“cmon! let’s just dance, yeah? destress!” steve yelled to you both before bopping his head to the music, causing you & robin to look at each other before laughing & join in.

the more songs played & the more you swing back eddie’s flask, you could feel yourself letting loose a little—possibly even making you feel courageous.

so much so that when eddie returned with a red solo cup with some sort of drink, you slung your arm around his middle for a quick hug.

“missed me?” he yelled in your ear.

“just maybe” you replied, feeling his right hand rub your arm up & down before fetching a joint from his pocket.

“missed me more now?” he asked again, laughing when you nodded your head, eyes glassy from the smoke in the room that was building.

“outside?” he yelled again, & you were the only one that agreed.

*~*~*~~*~~*~*~~**~***~*

departing from steve & robin to go smoke, eddie grabbed your hand once again & kept you close as you both made your way to the back porch that outlooked onto the water.

the backyard was still filled with people, especially jocks who were doing dumb keg games, but you didn’t mind. with your back against the siding of the house & eddie in front of you, caging you in, all you saw was him.

& god he looked hot. his hair was a bit frizzy, but his leather jacket managed to showcase his muscular arms & his slightly cropped band tee allowed you to see the happy trail on his abdomen.

it took everything in your power not to fold then & there.

“you want the first hit?” eddie asked as passed you his drink & pulled his lighter out of his pocket.

with a simple nod, you placed the joint between your lipstick covered lips & leaned forward for eddie to light the end of it for you. the action felt extremely intimate & already hand your skin tingling.

with the joint slotted between your fingers, you took a few hits & relished in the buzzed feeling it already gave you. & knowing eddie & is interest in pot, you knew whatever was wrapped within the joint was the good shit.

while you were taking your hits, eddie was reminding himself to not get hard at the thought of your lipstick rubbing off onto the joint or how you looked pretty with smoke exhaling from your mouth—he could feel his pants start to feel the tiniest bit tight at his view of you.

when you handed the joint to him, eddie stood beside you on the wall & took his time (possibly so you could look at him a little longer?).

& you didn’t care because he just looked too perfect with his head tilted up, the veins in his neck showing in the porch light, the joint rested between his ring clad fingers—you could already imagine yourself getting off to this image of him later—but you reminded yourself to stay cool.

everything was fine! you guys were just friends!

“you feeling okay?” eddie asked, turning to you who was already giving him soft doe eyes.

“better than okay” you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder because you felt too warm under his gaze.

“wanna get off inside?” you heard him ask, causing you to cough & blink for a moment.

“shit—what did you say?” you looked at him, feeling his hand begin to interlock with yours again.

“i asked if you wanna go back inside—you sure you’re good?”

oh god, now you were hearing things.

“y-yeah, good idea” you mumbled as you followed his lead, holding on tight to avoid getting broken apart through the sea of teenagers & college students.

you only broke apart when robin pulled you in for a hug, hearing her say “it felt like you were gone for ages!”

for the rest do the night, you told yourself to he lost in the music rather than thoughts of eddie munson doing nasty things to you, which was going pretty successful until you felt his breath on your neck again.

“wanna dance?”

& how on earth could you say no?!?!

you let him pull you into his arms, his hands firm on your waist while yours were loose around his neck.

with the pot & other alcohol mixing in your system, you felt on top of the world. especially with eddie’s eyes on you. he’d twirl you around in circles & give you room to dance your heart out with him in your grasp & steve & robin would give each other knowing glances about whatever was brewing between you too.

you felt hot, sticky, & tingly all over your skin (not just because eddie was touching you) so you pulled his head down a bit to yell in his ear. “i’m gonna find a washroom!” & he was leading you around the house to find one without a question.

once you both found one of the third floor of this outrageous house, you pulled eddie in with you & turned on the light, thankful there was a dim setting.

“jesus, that was bright!” eddie shielded his eyes, causing you to laugh as you hopped up onto the counter.

exhaling a sigh of relief, you let your head lean back & rest against the mirror while eddie leaned against the closed door.

“do you need me to like, turn around or something…?” he asked, wondering what you were going to do.

“no—i just wanted to go somewhere quieter. less sweaty bodies”

he nodded understandingly before shamefully looking you up & down, telling himself to not get hard at the sight of you so pretty. you were already falling down a rabbit hole of all the things you want to do with him right now, each more dirty than the next—it would be just so easy for him to take off your skirt & unbuckle his pants—wouldn’t it?

but the guilt started to seep in & make you hide your face to groan in annoyance because why on earth were you spiralling like this?

“is something wrong?” he walked to you, holding your wrists & pulling them away to uncover you.

“just going insane is all” you replied, causing you both to laugh until he reached up to wipe off some of your smudged eyeliner from your under eye. he just needed to touch you somehow.

“guess what an old friend told me while i was getting a drink earlier”

you tilted your head in wonder, staring directly at eddie’s lips as he spoke.

“he saw us walk inside & told me that we looked like some couple from a movie—don’t remember which one though…” he ended with a murmur, too focussed on swiping his thumb on your cheek until you spoke up.

“is that a bad thing?” you asked, suddenly feeling small in this washroom with his hand directly on your skin.

eddie was closing in on you now, & you didn’t want it to stop.

you instantly felt sober now. especially with how each swipe on your skin felt like he was making you his—which was definitely an exaggeration but how could you need feel that way when he was holding you so delicately?

shaking his head ‘no’, eddie’s brows furrowed. “of course not—it’s not a bad thing. i-i just thought it was, i dunno, cute—“

“cute?” you questioned softer than him, a smile in the beginning stages of forming on your face.

was this your moment that robin was talking about? you sure hoped so.

“i-i think that’s the right word” he stumbled over his words, feeling your right hand brush some hair out of his face.

“i think so too”

& then there was comfortable silence.

you weren’t sure how to move forward from here. do you tell him all your feelings for him that you’ve keep hidden in a vault at the back of your mind? do you tell him that you’ve been fantasizing about him for weeks? that he’s the only one that makes you feel so many things?

you wish this part was easier.

“would it be, i dunno, uncalled for if i told you that you’ve been driving me crazy?” eddie asked, immediately unlocking said vault inside you.

“are you serious?” you asked, completely sober now as you pulled his hand away from your face & fixed your posture, eyes locked on his for the answer.

“as serious as the dead” his breath hitched, unsure if he made things worse or misread whatever signs you sent, but before he could apologize your hands were already on his face to pull his lips to yours.

it was a messy, top lip & hungry kiss that you’ve been dying to experience since you first laid eyes on him. & god did it felt right, with his tongue meshing with yours & his hands gripping your fishnet covered thighs as he pulled you closer to his body with aching need.

it was the kind of kiss that tried to convey just how you felt about him, the wanting & lusting from afar, the longing glances & lip bites when he made you feel a certain type of way.

it was catastrophic & heavy but sweet with laboured breaths of beer & smudged lipstick.

“holy shit” eddie breathed out against your lips, chasing him for another kiss because it was just that good but you were smiling & clashing your teeth against his & giggling from how silly it all felt.

“that is why i’ve been going insane” you panted against him, hands falling to grip the cotton of his shirt.

“i’m crazy about you eddie. & it’s not the drugs talking, i promise” you swore, scouts honour.

with his forehead pressing against yours & laugh escaping his lips that had little bits of your lipstick, he squeezed your thighs. “i would hope not, ‘cause i’m really crazy about you too”

you closed your eyes now, relishing in the weight lifting off your shoulders & how his touch felt electric. “eddie” you exhaled.

“yeah, sweetheart?” his fingers were pressing different patterns on your thighs to the point where you asked in yourself if he was writing ‘mine’ across the fishnet material.

“can we do this again tomorrow?” you asked, already longing for this feeling to last, praying this wouldn’t be just a one time thing at a party.

“i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon, so yeah, i think we can make it happen” eddie smirked, kissing you quick before pulling back to see your swollen lips.

“wanna go back to the party & surprise the geeks?”

“i’d love to”

& with eddie whisking you from the counter, hand on your hip as he lead you back downstairs, you both immediately saw steve & robin jumping up & down happily when they witnessed you two looking like love sick idiots who finally fessed up.

young love, am i right?

[peachsayshi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁ MILLION DOLLAR BABY  ₊ ⊹ .

(sex worker!suguru geto x rich girl!reader)

⊹ tags: suguru geto x female reader; nanami kento x satoru; sukuna is reader's ex; character mentions: yuki, mei mei, shoko, toji; alludes to dd/lg relationship (very very mildly) with sukuna; a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; reader was in a toxic relationship; reader has daddy issues a bit lol; mentions of troubled past; mentions of death (parental)

:about: you grew up in a supremely wealthy household, but that came with a price. you’ve never had control over your own life, and now your father is set to marry you off. luckily, there's someone else who captures your heart. what does it matter that you pay him for his company?

:note: hi, everyone! this story is finally here, and it's one that's taken me forever to work but I actually loved this piece. I haven't been excited about something I've written in a while. I hope it lives up to all your expectations. comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3 - this fic is one shot, and I am willing to explore stories with the side characters. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding sex worker geto x rich girl reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.

wc: 14K+

The ceiling is covered with hanging irises, each one carefully handcrafted in paper. Edison bulbs dip down from between in staggering heights, illuminating the bar around you in warm light. It’s crowded tonight, clinking glasses and roaring laugher bouncing off the walls and clashing against the bass coming through the speakers. You scan the crowd, anticipation making your stomach flutter, but it quickly eases when you spot a head of golden hair among the audience. 

Nanami is at the bar, looking dapper as usual in a chocolate brown suit offset by a cream colored shirt. He’s drinking a whiskey when you approach him, the amber liquid mirroring the touch of bronze on his cheekbones. You sling your designer purse off your shoulder (the latest splurge of the week) and slide into the seat right next to him. 

“And how was your vacation?” you ask, greeting him with a question and noticing his mouth draw into a firm line. 

“Let’s not talk about it,” he insists, his eyes a little sad which only makes your stomach ache at the sight. 

He’s your closest friend - the only real friend you have. Kento Nanami doesn’t carry two faces. He sticks to the one that he has.  As one of the top investors in the country, he made a name by keeping the rich wealthy. He loathes his job and the pressures surrounding it - a walking hypocrite for despising the life that lines his pockets. 

He can’t find an escape no matter how hard he tries. 

And that's why you’re both two peas in a pod. 

He does, however, like you - not because of your background, but because you don’t try to be something that you are not as well. In a world where you are surrounded by parasites, Kento proved to be a nearly extinct butterfly, quietly fluttering by your side as you both drift across the harsh jungle around you. 

You concede, knowing better than to push his buttons. “Okay, I guess we aren’t talking about it…” 

“Tell me something else. Do you ever know how to walk into the room and not be the center of attention?” 

You smirk as he calls the waiter over.  Your presence easing the twinge of disdain on his face.

“What are you trying to say, hmm?” 

“You look nice tonight. New dress?” 

“New dress, new bag, new nails...” you list off, showing off each expensive purchase as you check them off your list. 

Nanami shakes his head playfully before ordering your usual once the bartender approaches. He angles his body towards you and breathes out a heavy sigh. 

“How are you?” He asks, genuine concern masking his face. 

Your shoulders drop. “I don’t want to talk about it…” 

His expression softens, one hand moving to touch your thigh exposed by the slit of your dress. 

“When do you meet Naoya?” 

He’s the only other person who knows about the pending engagement. The only person who offered you a way out by proposing instead. Despite his stance within the social community, you know that it’s not an offer that you can easily accept. 

Kento wasn’t bred into this world, and that makes all the difference. 

Your father would never accept a man from such a humble background. Especially not one whose offer wouldn't benefit him by any means.

“A few weeks from now,” you reply, eyes shifting to the bartender who passes your drink towards you. “He’s given my father specifications on how I should be presented…” 

Your friend scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Pardon my vulgarity but he just sounds like the kind of guy who wants to swing his dick around. I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up tonight…” 

The opening of the Ayame Lounge & Bar was invite only, exclusive to socialites and the elite. You know that Naoya must have received an invitation, everyone from the Zen’in family was here in attendance including the infamous outcast Toji. 

“He wouldn’t be caught dead here,” you inform, picking up your beverage and taking a small sip. “Naoya likes to uphold “tradition” but we all know it’s just a facade.” 

Kento’s thumb strokes your skin tenderly, worry ingrained in his gentle eyes. 

The two of you spend the night talking, catching up on the little things since his return from a two week vacation in Malaysia. He keeps the conversation light, telling you about his fantastic accommodation and all the food that he ate while he was away. In between you find yourself glancing over his shoulder, your eye on the crowd taking in the people around you. 

That’s when you spot him, standing just a few feet away, looking like a demigod among mere aristocrats. His hair is pulled back into a neat bun, a layer of his bangs kissing his forehead. His face is serious, jaw tight and eyes sharp as he focuses on his white haired counterpart. The black tee hugs his torso, his neat slacks cinched by the waist with a leather belt. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip, your mind drifting away from the conversation at hand. 

Your friend notices, of course. Kento is so tuned in to everything around him that he almost can’t help himself. He glances over his shoulder to see what caught your attention, only to instantly turn back around and stare at the whiskey glass on the table. 

The tips of his ears burn red. 

You register the response, knowing exactly what struck him to react in that way. 

Satoru Gojo -  former porn star, turned model, turned mega influencer. With a follower count in the hundreds of millions, he is the world’s hottest it boy. Nobody can deny his sheer beauty - whenever he walks into a room, he manages to steal a glance from every single person within his vicinity. Due to a rare genetic condition, his sapphire blue eyes and frosty white hair earned him the title of “The Prince”, and the people were desperate to share a place by his side. 

Suguru and Satoru were also the best of friends, a fact that Suguru revealed to you one night in bed. The two of them met on set, back when Satoru was still doing adult films. At the time, Suguru was just a camera man and it was Satoru who told him he could increase his earnings if he just performed instead. 

You remember telling Suguru: “it’s crazy how quickly his life changed”

“Some people are just lucky,” he responded, though you easily picked up the bitterness laced in his words. 

What most people don’t know is that Satoru Gojo is also involved with the man seated right next to you. You stumbled upon Nanami’s secret affair by accident when the two of you attended a resort opening by hotel heiress, Yuki Tsukumo. Everyone was invited to stay overnight for the weekend, and the morning after your first night there, you walked over towards Nanami’s room to grab some breakfast. He greeted you in a grey robe with his hair tousled, with hickeys trailing the side of his neck. You quirked a brow in his direction, your mouth forming into a blatant circle when you found Satoru Gojo fast asleep on his bed right behind him. 

The man in question looks away from Suguru towards you and Kento. His brows lifting in surprise when he spots your golden haired friend, but your eyes rest on Suguru who gestures that he will catch Satoru around. 

They both walk in opposite directions. 

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes shifting to Nanami. 

“You’ve got about five seconds to figure out what you want to say because Satoru is walking over here as we speak,” you inform. 

He exhales and straightens his back, his guard entirely up. 

You smile at Satoru when he approaches you, his pearly whites radiant as always. 

“Hi!” He says casually, though you can hear a touch of apprehension in his voice. “Mind if I cut in?” 

“Not at all!” you respond, “Can I get you a refill?” 

His cheeks blush a subtle shade of pink, the tiny gesture making you understand how easily it is to fawn over such a beautiful face. “It’s just soda, but sure” 

“Not drinking tonight?” You continue, glancing between him and Nanami as you wait for your friend to interject. 

“Actually, I’m three years sober,” he explains. 

“Good for you!” You cheer honestly, before turning to the bartender and ordering him another soda. 

From your peripheral vision you see him inch closer towards your friend. 

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he states, though his voice comes across as a little small. 

“I’ve been busy,” Nanami curtly replies, and your brows furrow at his unusual tone. 

“Too busy to even say hi?” Satoru continues, his voice low enough that only the three of you can hear each other. 

“Aren’t you here with a date?” Nanami chides, glancing up at him with a mocking eye. 

“Utahime isn’t my date, we both got invited together by our agency…” Satoru answers through gritted teeth. “Besides, I was hoping to spend time with you. I haven’t heard from you since Kuantan…” 

Nanami’s face burns an even brighter shade of crimson, the intimacy of Satoru’s comment flaring his humiliation. 

“Come on,” the white haired prince teases, attempting to ease the discomfort. “Don’t be such a grump. Let’s go outside. Get a little fresh air.” 

You can see that people are starting to stare at the three of you. 

Wherever Satoru goes, eyes follow him. 

While he may be immune to the attention, you can clearly see that Nanami is not. 

“No, thank you.” 

“What? You going to make me beg?” Satoru presses cheekily, but there is a twinge of desperation in his voice. 

“Begging is not difficult for somebody like you,” Nanami bites, and you can’t help but glare at him in shock. 

“Kento!” you chastise, but the look on his face speaks volumes. 

Regret. 

Instantaneous Regret. 

In front of him is a visible hurt that breaks Satoru’s face, like paint slowly chipping away. His eyes gloss over, and he anxiously rubs his hand over the back of his undercut before excusing himself and turning on his heel. 

Nanami covers his face with his palm, while you can only stare at him in disbelief. 

“How can you say that to him? I thought you liked him!” You whisper. 

“I-I didn’t mean to-” 

“You act like you’re ashamed of him whenever he’s around you…” 

Nanami avoids your eye, “How do you think this makes me look? I can’t have people seeing us together. I don’t want the world to swallow me up just because he prefers being gawked at by everyone around him” 

“That’s his job - it’s how he earns a living. I can’t believe you would degrade him over it,” you shake your head, unaware of where your sudden defenses are coming from.

“I know that…” 

“Is that why you don’t want to talk about your trip? Did something happen?” 

The man grows quiet, a sigh escaping him. 

“I broke up with him” 

“You what?” You gasp. 

“It'll never work. Our lives are too different” 

“You didn’t even give him a chance, Ken. He likes you. He really, really likes you.” 

“What chance is there to give? My life would come apart because of him. He would never be truly mine. I would have to share him with the rest of the world day in and day out. And the worst part is that…what should be intimate between us will never be ours either. Do you know that he’s still the highest streamed porn star in the world-” 

“He’s just a person. A person like me and you. Neither one of us chose this life. I didn’t ask to be born into my family, and you weren’t asked to save yours from debt. Yet, here we are. Existing in a world that we had to carve out for ourselves. Don’t you think the same applies to him?” 

You take another sip of your drink, your cheeks warming with anger at your friend’s condescending tone towards Satoru. 

Although, you find your reasons for defending him to be far more self serving. 

“So what if he sells his body? That’s his choice to make. Does it change anything else about him? Does it change his feelings for you?” You lecture, “I can’t believe that you be this ungrateful over skewed morals. If you both care about each other, there is no reason why you can’t be together. Take it from somebody who’ll probably never get the chance. This isn’t something you want to simply let go of, Kento. You’ll regret this decision for the rest of your life.”

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Nanami downs his whiskey and excuses himself then, your words stinging the microscopic cuts on his heart. You find yourself a little flustered after watching him walk away, unsure of where that outburst even came from. 

The eyes surrounding you look away. 

You know you’ve given everyone within your peripheral area a story to gossip about. One that would be twisted and chewed until there is no morsel of truth left in it. 

Your drink gives you enough liquid courage to socialize and face the music instead. 

You steer your way through the crowd hoping to find one person in particular, but instead you are caught among the net of cliques, old faces, and fake friends. You manage to bypass any pointed questions, passing through each conversation with a forced grin and entertaining the discussions at hand with fluffy anecdotes and petty rumours. 

When you walk away, you know full well that there will be whispers behind your back.

That’s the give and take about this world. Everyone is a vulture secretly waiting to witness the rise and fall of those around them. It’s a vicious circle, which is why nobody ever reveals their true hand in the process.  

You glance around the room, honing in on the handsome dark haired boy you’ve grown entirely too attached too except you spot someone else in between who makes your spine seize.

Your toes curl in your pointed heels. 

Your heart stutters unsteadily. 

Blushed strands, a wolfish grin, and a broad build - Sukuna always takes up far more room than he needs. 

You personally believe it’s because his ego is so massive it requires that extra space. 

You haven’t seen the man in five years, not after the messy relationship that that followed your even messier break up. 

You should have known better than to get involved with him while still so young. 

You remember that version of you. When you first met Sukuna, you were a small rabbit who had accidentally hopped its way into a lone wolf’s den. Twenty one and just embracing the glitz and glamor of the world around you. The man was charming, flirtatious and most of all dangerous. You couldn’t help but return to his lair, especially when he would take the time and effort to approach you at every function, party and gathering that you attended. When you think about your relationship with Sukuna, it fills you with shame until you can only drown in it. There is a reason why you’ve kept it a secret for so long. Even staring at him right now, the dishonor hangs on your shoulder like a weighted sin that you’re burdened to carry for the rest of your life. Every time it hits, the memories play like a movie on hyper speed. 

How often you allowed him to spill his seed all over your body. How often he brought you to tears with his tongue between your legs. How often you would moan the words “daddy” over and over again while riding him. How often you let him manipulate your heart. How often you let him convince you that you were happy.  

That twisted relationship was testament to how broken you were. 

You didn’t even know about his wife who lived in Kyoto until it was far too late. 

Your instinct tells you to turn on your heel and walk in the other direction, but you catch Suguru just up ahead in the crowd and your courage outweighs your hesitation. 

You manage to stride past Sukuna,  a darting feline scurrying towards the safety of a shadow. Your hammering heart steadies itself when the trail of his strong cologne is a safe distance behind you. You nervously clutch onto the strap of your purse, exhaling a quick breath before marching up to Suguru. 

You tap his shoulder twice. 

He spins around, eyes lifting as a smile spreads across his handsome face. 

Like a full moon on a clear night sky. 

“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise.” 

“I sure hope so,” you remark, biting your bottom lip playfully as you glance at your own feet. 

Suguru chuckles, taking a step closer. “It is.” 

You glance up at him from underneath your lashes, your heart vibrating with pure excitement. You think it’s silly to have such a schoolgirl infatuation over him, especially since you understood the terms that surrounding your relationship. 

You pay him for his company. 

You aren’t supposed to have a crush on man who you employ to have to sex with you. 

Yet, your gut tells you otherwise. Convinces you that the softness in which he speaks is reserved only for you. 

“Are you here with anyone?” You ask a little breathlessly, hoping that you weren’t interrupting him working. 

Suguru shakes his head. 

“Satoru invited me,” he clarifies, and it’s an answer that only makes you giddy. 

“Oh!” You squeak, “well that’s nice. It’s a really exclusive party, make sure you to take it in…” 

His eyes blatantly fall over you, cascading down your body like ink dripping over a canvas. 

Your cheeks warm. 

He’s not even hiding that he’s checking you out, and it triggers the wild desire within you. 

“Are you here alone?” He questions. 

You nod your head, knowing full well that Kento is probably in the midst of a heated conversation with his distraught lover and won’t be returning anytime soon. 

“Why don’t you join us then?” He adds, cocking his head to point at the table behind him. 

You glance over his shoulder, barely recognizing the crowd. 

A fact that seems ideal to you. 

“I’d love to,” you say with a pretty smile, all the while Suguru’s eyes continue sparkling. 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The last time you saw Suguru was a few weeks ago, where your heavy heart spilled the news of your pending engagement. 

“An arranged marriage, huh?” he whispered in the dark, his sharp eyes dipping to your naked chest while his delicate fingers carefully pushed the bedsheet further down to your hips.

You inched a little closer into his frame, soaking in the outlines of his chiseled torso and bringing one finger to trace little shapes on his broad shoulder.

Your brows furrowed with annoyance, “yeah, ever heard of the Zen’in family?”

Suguru scoffed, breaking character for only a second but it’s something that you’ve caught him doing more recently. He doesn’t hold his reactions around you as tightly as he used to. The front of this alter ego that he created faltering, which is probably why you find yourself drawn to the person existing underneath the mask of the seducer.

You sigh before continuing your explanation, “my father thinks Naoya Zen’in is a perfect match for me.”

An uneasy expression flickered across Suguru’s face, but he suppresses it before allowing it to linger. 

You lifted yourself up onto your elbow and rest your cheek on your palm. “What is it?”

Suguru mirrors your position, his large hand gliding back and forth over the slope of your hips and waistline which sent goosebumps all over your body. “I’ve heard that Naoya…” Suguru stated, pinching the pads of his fingers lightly against your flesh before leaning forward to kiss the crease between your brows, “can be a handful to deal with…”

You thread your fingers around his neck, your lips finding his jaw where you return a kiss. “And who told you that?” you murmured as the weight of Suguru’s body rolls on top of yours.

You were staring at his devastatingly handsome face from below. The longer you spent time with him the more you began to wonder about his circumstances and a reoccurring thought crossed your mind once more.

Suguru could truly be anything he wanted, but instead he was here making a killing off of fucking lonely women and porn videos.

You don’t judge his choices, but you couldn't help but feel puzzled by the situation especially when you knew the trajectory of his best friend’s career path. 

One photo shoot at a mid-level fashion brand skyrocketed Satoru Gojo’s career and made him a household name. Yet, Suguru Geto was a taboo that was whispered behind closed doors. 

“I have a client who likes to gossip,” he admitted. 

That’s all you got because Suguru kept everything else about his clients confidential. You shivered when his mouth met your neck, his lips sucking along the tender skin that sent goosebumps all over your chest, but there’s an ache in your heart when you consider that if it wasn’t for the signed cheque in your purse, he wouldn’t even be here in the first place.

Not a single man you’ve met in the world compared to Suguru. You’ve never known how sweet lovemaking can be until he fucked you for the time. Not only was he beautiful beyond comprehension, but he was charming and extremely smart. You found yourself enjoying his company beyond physical purposes, and conversations with him turned out to be one of your favorite ways to pass time.

“Think we’ll still get together when you’re a missus?” he teased, his lips trailing lower to your collar bones and hovering just a above your breasts.

The thought of you getting married only made you sick.

“Do you peg me as a terrible wife? a woman who would happily cheat on her husband?” you questioned, your voice trembling when Suguru circled his lips around your hard nipple.

He hummed, drawing out a whimper when he nipped at the bud lightly, his tongue gliding over the hardened nub. 

“No,” he answered, his voice dropping an octave and your mind swirled when you contemplate if that strange tone is actually jealousy. He rested his chin on your chest, his inky hair framing his face in a waterfall of obsidian. “I do, however, peg Naoya as a terrible husband.”

You sank your fingers into his locks, “it doesn’t matter who my father chooses. All these men are the same. Naoya is no worse than the rest. I’m trapped regardless…”

It was the first time you allowed yourself to think about Sukuna when in bed with Suguru. The first time you thought about the last four years and the many men who tried to weasel their way into your heart just for the sake of obtaining status. The discomfort is written plainly on your face. Suguru doesn’t know that seeking him out was your way of taking matters into your own hands, even in just the smallest way. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he responded sincerely, the kindness in his voice the reason why your eyes prick with tears.

You sniffled, using your free hand to wipe away a rogue droplet that freely falls down your cheek. Suguru adjusted his position so he was lying by your side. He didn't say anything but draws you into his chest for a hug, enveloping you in his warmth. You tried hard not to consider the reality of the situation, and accept the gesture freely as you cuddle him.

But the moment of peace is interrupted by a loud vibration. You and Suguru both perked up to stare at his phone buzzing on the side table.

Your heart sank.

Another client.

Suguru reached his arm around to grab the phone, and you closed your eyes to inhale his natural scent, trying to soak him in for as long as you can before he leaves you like he’s done many times before.

To your surprise he simply switched it off, before proceeding to wrap his arm back around you to return to his position.

“You sure you don’t need to take that?” you mumbled, trying to play off your disappointment as casually as possible.

“I’m booked out for the rest of the evening,” he answered nonchalantly, “there’s no reason to respond.”

A tickle in your belly sent sparks all over your skin. “but your cheque only covers the hours we agreed on…”

Two fingers touched the underside of your chin, and Suguru tilted your head up so you were both face to face again. “Don’t worry about it,” he consoled, his thumb lightly outlining your bottom lip, “this is on the house.”

What bliss it was to fall asleep in his arms that night. You recall waking up right before dawn to find him in deep slumber, his strong arm draped protectively across your body with the heat cocooning you from the rest of the world. 

Disappointment shattered you the next morning, when you were greeted by the sun and an empty bed.

You’re not sure when Suguru had snuck out, but you were puzzled to find that your cheque was still tucked away safely in your purse. 

It was the first time he walked away without any payment. 

You still vividly remember his reaction when he met you just a little over a year ago. 

“You’re young,” he blurted, his eyes widening with confusion. 

“We’re around the same age,” you replied defensively, already feeling insecure for having hired him after spending weeks watching his videos. You didn’t even know about his house calls until you heard it from a source within your social circle. "Is this how you greet all your clients?”

Suguru raised his brow in contemplation, “my other clients don’t look like you…”

Over time you learned that he catered to a specific demographic: older divorcees and cheating housewives.

The person you might turn into years from now if this marriage goes through.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

After that night you told yourself that you would schedule another meeting with Suguru to compensate him for his last session.

Right now, all you can think about is your heart hammering when Suguru subtly interlaces his fingers with your own, and leads you through the crowd until you both find a safe spot on the corner of the lounge chair. His group is far too engrossed in their own conversations to notice you both, drunk on the buzzing night and enjoying the many amenities of this exclusive party. 

“You look nice,” you compliment, catching Suguru’s attention while trying to ignoring his knees bumping against yours.

“As do you,” he replies, his voice smoother than velvet. “But you don’t need me to tell you that you’re gorgeous.” 

Oh but I do, you think, masking your excitement with a giggle and casual roll of your eyes. I could hear you tell me that forever. 

Suguru shyly looks down at his lap, hiding his own smile. 

It’s strange, you think, how the two of you are talking. Like this man hasn’t been inside you multiple times and made you cum until you can’t think straight. Like he doesn’t know your body in the most intimate sense.

Like you don’t fund a decent chunk of his salary. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” 

Suguru shrugs, “It’s not too bad. Though, I’m not one for big crowds if I am being completely honest...” 

“Makes sense. I don’ get a kick out of it as much as I used to.”

Suguru angles his body to face you, giving you his full attention. “Why’s that?” 

You sigh, your hands suddenly feeling empty without a drink. You sling your purse off your shoulder and place it between you both, before proceeding to fiddle with the fabric of your dress instead. 

You can lie, but you don’t know how. 

Well, you don’t know how to lie with him. 

Something about starting this contract with Suguru unveiled a level of vulnerability in you that you can’t seem to hide. The first night you both spent together you were a nervous wreck, stumbling and bumbling over words trying to find excuse after excuse as to why a woman of your age would even hire him. By your third appointment, you asked if he could be slow and gentle with you, the emotional scars of your previous relationship a stinging wound. You were desperate for tenderness, and Suguru obliged with your request. By the end you found yourself reaching your climax with tears in your eyes. 

If you were to list out more moments like this, you would simply go on and on. 

You can’t hide your truth with Suguru when it was the first thing you’ve ever shown him. 

“Because it’s a constant reminder that I can be in a room full of people I know and still feel incredibly alone…” you mumble, your gaze catching his. 

His hand finds your thighs, the warmth of his large palm burning through the fabric of your dress. 

“You’re not alone tonight, sweetheart,” he reassures. 

“You don’t have to be so nice…” you insist, suddenly self conscious over his flattery. The same sweetness he bestows upon you when you’re both locked away in a hotel room somewhere, but you didn’t sign off on any bonus transactions tonight. 

He squeezes your thigh and tilts his head. “But I like being nice to you” 

He says it so matter of factly it almost makes you faint. 

Your brows upturn with confusion. “Why?” 

His touch expands upward, grazing over the curve of your thigh, bunching the material of your dress between his fingers. He leans closer, the scent of bergamot wafting up your nose and kissing your neck. 

“Look there,” he states, and you follow the line of his gaze. 

“That woman has been married for fifteen years and her husband never got her off once. And that woman…” he continues, shifting his eyes from body to body, “has a birth mark just above her hip bone. And at the table right behind us,” 

When you turn your face you accidentally bump into the tip of his nose. 

“...are two sisters who pretend they get along well but are currently in a massive fight over their inheritance” 

Your stomach coils with jealousy. “Acquaintances of yours?” 

 Suguru leans back slightly, giving you both room to breathe. 

“Yes, clients…” he confirms, “there’s a few of them here tonight, but you’re the only one who acknowledges me. I’m just a dirty little secret to the rest.” 

Your envy dwindles into sympathy, and you can’t help but let the question slip. 

“How does that make you feel?” 

There’s a twitch in Suguru’s jaw, a hint of scarred pride. You know he has plenty of it, he just hides it well.

The man shrugs, averting his sharp gaze as he downs the rest of his drink. “It is what it is” 

Oh, but that response doesn’t nothing to help your heart, the muscle practically screaming at your brain to do so something and make him feel better. 

Mindlessly, you loop both arms around his bicep, casually resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way...” 

You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, but you’re hoping it’ll mean something to him. He turns to face you, and if he inched a little closer he could probably kiss you. 

“You are an enigma to me” 

“In what way?” 

He brushes his lips past your own, making you catch your breath for a moment. His mouth trails its way up to your ear, and he whispers a sentence that sends goosebumps running all over your body. 

“In the way that how a woman like you can fit in a life like this” 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The night carries on, the pulse of hedonism sending reverberations across the establishment. The crowd grows larger, the air a potion of liquor, expensive cologne, sweat and pleasure. The lights dim, inducing everyone into the trance of the ambience set around them, allowing them to indulge and consume. Your conversation with Suguru feels like minutes, but two whole hours pass with the both you concealed from the crowd. You’re almost mesmerized by him when he talks, cast under an entirely different spell that seems to effect nobody else. His touches turn more intimate the longer you speak, with Suguru securing his arm around your waist and leaning back against the chair as he keeps you tucked into his frame. 

That’s another thing you started noticing - how this man likes to hold you. 

He even did it when you were in bed together last. 

And the time before that. 

And the time before that. 

And the time before that-

If you weren’t surrounded by so many eyes you would simply curl into him, but you find yourself restraining while thinking of what excuse might work to get you both out of here because you just want to be alone with him. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Suguru offers, a wave of disappointment rolling into you as he untangles himself slowly. 

“Just some water...” 

Suguru kisses the inside of your wrist with the reassurance that he’ll be right back, but the public display only makes your cheeks bloom with endearment. 

“Got it” 

When he stands up and walks away is when you notice how the crowd around you has dispersed. Most of Suguru’s party were gone - standing either by the bar or caught in the middle of the dance floor. You can see that there were a few shifty eyes staring at you, and a lump forms in your throat when you realize that by allowing yourself to melt into Suguru it meant that you revealed your weakness to the rest of the wild. 

You take a second to readjust - fixing the hem of your dress before pulling out your pocket mirror and reapplying your lipstick. You fight off any anxious thoughts, sticking a big metaphorical middle finger to whoever was watching you with any hint of judgement. 

Your care for Suguru outweighed their own by tons. 

You just didn’t know how far you had let your guard down until a strange shadow veils over you. 

“Red still looks good on you.” 

Your heart doesn’t sink, it seizes, collapses into itself when you drop the mirror in your hand. His dark chuckle makes your spine tingle with unease. Sukuna kneels to pick up your mirror, his devilish smiling greeting you as you swallow the lump in your throat. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, huffing out another laugh when you snatch the pocket mirror from his hand and quickly throw your things back into your purse. 

“I have to go.” 

You bolt onto your feet, only to pause when his contact scorches your forearm. 

“What’s the rush? I’m just saying hi.” 

You shrug him off aggressively, eyes violent and full of fury. 

“I don’t want to say hi to you. As a matter of fact, I hope that we never have to speak again.”  

“C’mon doll, don’t be like that. It’s water under the bridge…” 

His nonchalance enrages in you ways that you can’t describe, but rather than make a scene you smoothly shove him aside before uttering “asshole” and storming off towards the bar. 

Your frantic eyes search for your solace, of the man who can suture any wound that’s in desperate need of healing. You spot him from behind, noticing that he is speaking to a friend, his shoulder leaning on the bar as he patiently waits to pick up the drinks like he promised. Refusing to look back because you know Sukuna is probably on your trail, you breathe out your apprehension to compose yourself and keep one hand securely on your purse before steadily making your way towards to Suguru. 

You hear the two of them as you draw closer,  unintentionally eavesdropping on the conversation at hand. 

“Who’s the chick?” his friend asks. 

“A friend.” Suguru replies. 

“Which friend?” they press. 

“None of your business…” 

“Ah, one of your desperate clients I’m guessing?” 

You cease before making your presence known.

Stunned; your face boiling with embarrassment. 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s so obvious, Suguru-” his friend scoffs, “she’s practically crawling on your lap. It’s fucking pathetic, don’t you think?” 

Pathetic?

The word splits you into half.

Is that how Suguru sees you? 

Is that how everyone else does to? 

Something clicks then, every memory and act of kindness tainted with the thought the man was simply pitying you. That the root of his good-hearted nature was merely sympathy towards a sad, broken little rich girl. 

Suguru picks up the drink, mumbling a “fuck off” before turning on his heel only to find you standing there stupefied by his friend’s demeaning commentary. Only an idiot would assume that you probably didn’t hear a thing, but Suguru is far smarter than that. Whatever trace of the mask he’s been wearing dissipates then, and you see the genuine concern on his face. He parts his lips but you’re too wounded for an explanation, and you instantly dash past both of them, excusing yourself politely before speed walking your way towards the exit. 

You can hear him call out your name, but there is no way you would let that man see you crying after what was just said. 

Of course he doesn’t like me, you self-consciously deliberate, I pay him to fuck me. 

I pay him to fucking like me. 

A sob leaves you, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand as you rush past the bouncer and dart out the front door, leaving a crowd of people staring at you with confusion. All of them hoping to make their way inside.

“Must be drunk,” one person says, while another screams at the bouncer “hey, can you let us in?! Someone just left!” 

You strut down the street, desperately trying to maintain your balance as you dab your eyes lest your tears ruin your make up. You hear someone call out your name, half hopeful that it might Suguru but when you glance over your shoulder all you see is the dreadful sight of your ex-boyfriend. 

You keep walking.  “Don’t follow me.” 

Sukuna is quick to catch up, practically jogging down the street and you curse your choice in footwear for slowing you down. 

“Then don’t keep running away.” 

You halt, the man nearly colliding into you from behind. 

“What?!” you spit out as you glare up at him. “What do you want from me?” 

Sukuna arches his brow, the smell of whiskey sticking to him. “The fuck got you so worked up?” 

You wipe away any leftover tears, your indignation towards this man overriding all other emotions. 

“None of your fucking business…” 

Sukuna reaches for your elbow, “Let’s not be testy. My car is in front of the bar. Let me take you home.” 

You already caught that eye sore of a ridiculously expensive sports car when you stepped out of club. “I’d rather walk home barefoot on a bed of hot coals then go anywhere with you.” 

“Don’t be like that, kitten…”

“Don’t,” you snapped, “call me that.” 

“You know I still nothing but love for you, right?” He slurs mildly, “Let me take you back to my place and we can talk-”  

His thumb grazes your elbow gently. Once upon a time you actually believed that his affection was real, but you’re older and wiser to know the truth now. “You miss my pussy,” you crudely admonish, “you don’t give a fuck about me.” 

He pinches your elbow with mild irritation. “Why don’t you tuck those claws back. I’m trying to have a fucking conversation.” 

“If a conversation is what you want, then speak to your fucking wife-” you hiss, striking a cord that makes Sukuna furrow his brows which brings you an odd sense of satisfaction. 

His face falls. 

You huff with approval. 

“What?” your mock, “cat got your tongue?” 

“Is everything alright?” 

You and Sukuna both halt, your heads twisting to face whoever spoke with Sukuna letting go of you faster than you can even blink. You only catch a tiny glimpse of his fear, the terror that somebody caught him in the act. 

Thankfully, it was only Suguru. 

Your body hums with relief. 

One hand is in his pocket, the other keeping a helmet tucked under his wing. His stance is relaxed but his irises are piercing daggers sinking into Sukuna’s skull.

“Everything’s fine-” Sukuna insists. 

“Suguru,” you call out at the same time, instantly going to him and finding your place by his side.

The word pathetic hammers in the back of your mind but you need deal with one problem at a time, and right now you don’t care about looking desperate if it means escaping the shackles of Ryomen Sukuna. 

Suguru’s eyes don’t leave your ex-lover, but he inches closer towards you to assert his ground. 

Sukuna frowns, the expression on his face all too familiar. 

You clutch Suguru’s sleeve, “Nothing to fret over. Do you mind taking me home?” 

He turns to face you, a mixture of worry with a flare of anger on that handsome face.  

“Yeah, I’ll take you home.” 

“Tsk,” Sukuna grumbles with frustration, “Don’t cheapen yourself by fucking off with some whore…” 

A static shock trickles each point of the triangle where you all stand. The hair on the back of your neck stands upright, your attention moving to Suguru whose entire face darkens with a fury that you’ve never seen before. He steps forward, his helmet dropping to his hand like he’s ready to wield it as a weapon, and the target is the spot on Sukuna’s skull that he’s been carefully observing. Your vision goes white imagining the outcome of this blow out, and you can practically hear the crack of the impact if Suguru follows through. 

Despite how much he deserved it, you know just how powerful Sukuna is. 

He would ruin Suguru without any remorse. 

“Suguru,” you beg, stepping forward and clutching onto his shirt as you reel him away from the man before you. 

His nostrils flare, the intoxicating poison of wrath swirling in his irises which quickly diffuses upon finding you. 

“Take me home?” You softly repeat, earnest and sincere, all the while erasing Sukuna from your presence entirely. 

It only takes a few seconds for Suguru to register your request, but he complies by reaching for your hand and knotting his fingers between your own. He grips it protectively, eyes looking straight ahead as he leads you down the street and far away from the chaos behind you. 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The patter of your feet colliding onto the concrete surface echoes around you. A part of you is embarrassed, the other ashamed, a third grateful while a fourth shivers anxiously. You’re thankful that Suguru is at least allowing the silence to linger because it’s giving you a chance to settle from the roller coaster of emotions you just experienced. You try not to think about the pressure of his grip, or how the length of his fingers are wrapped securely around yours and instead piece together some semblance of an explanation worthy for him to listen to. 

You eventually decide that you’ll just grab a cab back to your place. That you’ll thank Suguru for playing the role of rescuer, and hand off the cheque that you’ve been holding onto. You won’t be a burden, bother him any longer or a do anything else to force his empathy. 

Suguru pauses in front of a jet black motorbike. The color itself blending into the darkness around you. You clear your throat ready to make your declaration, but you’re silenced when you feel the weight of his helmet press against your palms. 

“Wear this,” he commands. “I’ll take you to my place.” 

Your mouth goes slack, your practiced words shrinking to the back of your throat. 

His place. 

“Your place?” You find yourself whispering your thoughts out loud. 

Suguru reaches for the handle of his bike, tapping his index finger against it, his back facing you. “If you want.” 

He hops on before searching you for an answer. The look animates you back to reality and you nod your head before swiftly putting on the helmet. You find your place behind him, taking a second longer to adjust in your dress. You knot your arms around his waist, your eyes noting his exposed head. 

“You don’t have a helmet.” You point out. 

“I don’t live that far,” he answers back, “besides, I didn’t think I’d be traveling with precious cargo.” 

He taps his palm over your clasped hands. “Hold tight for me, alright?” 

You nod your head, covering your face with the shield visor before resting your cheek against his back. 

Suguru takes off. 

The wind whips against your bare arms, the pressure sweeping between your legs as Suguru swerves between each lane. The city blurs into vivid colors, only resurfacing when you come to an immediate halt at the traffic light. The adrenaline courses through your veins, the exhilarating sensation a thrill that you’ve never experienced before. Unfortunately, the journey was short lived and within twenty minutes you find yourself coming to a halt in an underground parking lot. 

Suguru parks the bike, hopping off before reaching his hand out to assist you. 

Your legs felt like jelly when it hits the surface, and you tumble on your own footing as Suguru reaches his other hand out to steady you by holding your waist. 

“You okay? Was I going to fast?” 

You take off the helmet, attempting to make yourself look somewhat presentable. 

“No, no” you answer a little breathless, “that…that was actually kind of fun…” 

“First time?”

You nod your head. 

Suguru hums. 

He takes the helmet away from you and directs you straight to the entrance of his apartment building. He pulls out an electronic key, and presses it against the elevator door. The elevator pings, the panels sliding open as you both step inside. Suguru clicks the button to his floor and you both stand on opposite sides watching the numbers go up.

Suguru lived in a newer development, you could tell when you walked through the hallway as he stands in front of his apartment door, and uses the same key to grant you both entrance. 

As you enter the hallway, you’re greeted by a wall with mounted iron hooks. There’s five to be exact, each one holding a different helmet with one space empty. Suguru fits the helmet back onto the vacant spot, before glancing over his shoulder and finding you still by the door struggling to take off your heels. 

He returns and kneels before you. His hands carefully moving your fingers away. 

“Let me help with that” 

“You don’t have to-” but you’re interrupted with him patting his thigh in gesture. 

You bite your bottom lip and place one foot against him, careful not to dig your heel into him. 

He delicately unravels the straps around your ankle and slips of the heel with a brush to the back of your calf, making the muscle twitch. 

“Other foot,” he instructs, then repeats. 

After placing your shoes neatly by the door, he stands up and reaches for your hand once more. “This way” 

You take it warmly, and follow him while trying your best not to acknowledge the noticeable height difference with you two standing side by side.

You never paid much attention to it before, you didn't have too really considering you both spent most of your time together in parallel positions. 

Suguru leads you into the living room, and a small gasp escapes you when you are met with floor to ceiling windows. The horizon is of the city skyline, but it’s half blocked by a decent size balcony which is covered in greenery. The scene contrasts the inside of Suguru’s apartment, which is more minimal. To your right is a small dining nook, the light above an accent piece that added some detail to the decor. To your left is a small furniture set, the sage green fabric making you avert your gaze with shame because your recognized that very same couch in most of Suguru’s videos. 

You find yourself quickly staring at your feet. 

“Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Tea?” 

“Tea would be great,” you answer back, returning to look directly at him from underneath your lashes. “Do you have anything herbal?” 

“Mhmm.” 

You follow him into the kitchen and realize that the man keeps his place meticulously clean. The back counter is what catches your attention the most. Suguru has a full serviced at home barista station set up for his own convenience. You pick out the coffee grinder, espresso machine, assortment of tea pots, jars of fresh leaves and coffee bags all neatly organized. 

Suguru pulls out one jar with a hand written label that reads "lemon balm and chamomile". 

You slip off your purse and place it on the counter behind him. “Did you make all these yourself?” 

“My parents used to run a tea shop in Hokkaido,” he answers back. 

“A tea shop?” You squeak, a little too excited from the morsel of information about his personal life that he just bestowed. “That must have been lovely…” 

“It was,” he answers, his voice growing small. 

You watch him fill the kettle with water, before placing it on the electric stove to warm up. He opens the jar, closing the gap of space between you both and lifts it to your nose. 

“Take a deep breath in,”

You oblige, and inhale. 

“Oh my,” you sigh out loud, your fingers subconsciously clasping over his own as your eyes flutter from the aroma of citrus, ginger, flora and subtle spice. It calms every firing nerve in your body. “That smells wonderful” 

When you open them again, you see that Suguru is looking at you thoughtfully. 

“It tastes good too,” he says proudly, and your heart glows at the reaction. “I was a terrible night owl as a kid. Still am, I guess. My mom used to make this to help me go to sleep…” 

“That’s really sweet,” you admit, wondering how lovely it must be to be looked after with such care. 

He slips away again, taking a spoon and putting a generous amount of the blend into a ceramic tea pot. You hear the tea bubble lightly, but your head spins as Suguru cages you in place while you both wait for it to reach the right temperature. Your back is against the counter, his arms by your side. 

“That guy you were talking to. Who was that?” He questions, cutting right to the chase. 

“Nobody important,” you confess, “he’s an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.” 

“I’m sorry about what he said to you. What he called you…”  

Suguru’s fingers dig into the counter, making the muscles in his arms flex with irritation. 

“Don’t apologize for him. Don’t apologize for any of them.” He firmly maintains. “Their words are empty to me...” 

“You almost bashed his head in,” you point out, a tiny smile easing the tension binding around the man before you. 

“I almost bashed his head because of the way he spoke to you-” 

Your eyes widen. 

Was he being protective? You think, but shake your head when you think of what kind of pitiful state you must have been that would cause Suguru to react in such a way. 

Pathetic. 

Your shoulders dwindle slightly and you shake it off to gather yourself once more. 

“He was a terrible mistake. I was young, and stupid. I thought I knew better when I really had no fucking clue…” 

You didn’t realize how bitter you sounded until two fingers press underneath your jaw.

His thumb taps your chin in a featherlight touch. “Is it over? Whatever it was?” 

“Of course,” you answer, the truth acrid on your tongue. “I’m to marry Naoya Zen’in, remember?”

Suguru frowns. “He’s no better. I told you that myself.” 

You circle your hand around his wrist. “I’ll take anyone over Sukuna. Even if that person is Naoya…” 

“Why can’t you just choose?” 

You press your lips together and sigh. “Because it’s a transaction. I’m a token in my father’s universe. If he weds me off to the Zen’in’s then it’s profitable. Good for business…” 

“I’m sure if you speak with him, he’ll understand-” 

“Don’t be so naive,” you answer as you return to meet his gaze. “My father doesn’t love me. He just owns me. I spent most of my adolescence alone while he was busy working or galavanting off with his mistress.  I think he assumed that if he kept shoving money my way, I wouldn’t notice his absence…” 

The kettle sings, making you both jump in place as the water bubbles aggressively and a small spiral of steam releases from the lip. Suguru returns to making your beverage. Picking up the kettle and pouring the hot water into the pot. He places it on a tray, along with a beautiful cup. 

“The tea needs a couple of minutes to steep. In the meanwhile, I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” He announces, “You want some spare clothes?” 

You look down at your designer frock, the material snug on your body. 

“Yeah, I’d like that” 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Suguru’s white shirt falls to your mid thigh, the material a little see through and revealing the bra you had on underneath. You eye the pair of worn boxers he handed to you to wear as shorts, but slyly tuck your bottom lip between your teeth before leaving it behind and walking out with your bare legs on display. 

You’re not quite sure what the plan is here, but you don't see yourself leaving anytime soon.

You head back towards the kitchen where you pick up your purse, your dress folded between your hands carefully. Suguru is opening the door to the balcony, having changed into a cut sleeve shirt that exposes his arms and a hint of his ribs, as well as a pair of loose shorts. When he hears you enter, his attention instantly falls to your plush thighs, a hint of crimson blushing his cheek. 

“Where can I keep my stuff?” You ask innocently, pretending to ignore his reaction. 

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers back, his voice thick. 

He tells you that he’ll wait for you outside, and in the meantime you put down your stuff onto the coffee table in front of his sofa.

You unzip your purse, Suguru’s cheque staring you at you with wide, scolding eyes. 

Pathetic. 

You furrow your brows at the voice inside your head, and swipe the payment before folding it and tucking it securely against your hip underneath the waistband of your underwear. 

You head outside, sliding the window close behind you. 

Suguru is sitting on a deck chair, the two of you camouflaged by the array of his overgrown plants. He pours your cup of tea, the aroma twirling between the current of the wind as he offers it your way. You pick it up, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. A heavy sigh escapes you, and you remain standing leaning back against the cool glass surface as you stare out into the distance. 

“Like it?” Suguru asks, and you only notice then that he has also brought out a second cup for himself and is pouring his own drink. 

“It’s divine,” you respond. 

“I’m glad” 

The two of you sit in silence once more, mindlessly sipping your tea while contemplating the other person. You’re both at a clear standstill, carefully tiptoeing over the boundary that has so been strictly set in place. 

A reminder of that is the folded cheque digging into your skin. 

“How did you find out about contacting me?” Suguru randomly wonders. 

You look towards him and he shrugs before adding on, “I never asked. I find myself curious.” 

You thrum your nails against the glass cup, taking another sip of your tea before replying, “I saw you at a party with Satoru. I was with a group of friends, and one of them noticed me recognizing you. She asked if I was…familiar with your work. And when I told her I was she informed me that you both were…intimate.” 

“Was it Mei?” 

Your face falls at the blatant disregard of confidentiality. 

“How-How did you know?” 

Suguru huffs, and sips his tea. 

“She’s the only other client I had close to our age. Wasn’t hard to make the connection…” 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Go for it,” he replies. 

“I’ve always been curious as to how you wound up doing what you do,” you bite your bottom lip nervously, your hands trembling slightly holding your glass and you hope that Suguru wouldn’t notice your sudden unease. 

“Ah,” he acknowledges, his free hand moving to rub the back of his neck and you can’t help but sneak a peak at his abdomen from the side. “Well, I told you how I wound up making the videos. For a long time I just did solo work, but I knew I could make more money if I had on-screen partners to film with. I had a few good connections with some actresses and hired a friend to make a video with me…” 

You knew exactly which one he was talking about. 

The actress in question was well known, and the video was an amateur clip that was filmed on the very same couch that you walked passed earlier. 

You clench your thighs together. 

You don’t even want to admit how many times you came to that particular video. 

“I didn’t know it would blow up in the way that it did. Shoko and I made a killing off it. We both saw the potential and we wound up doing six full episodes - trying out different techniques, roleplaying in a few…” 

“But you stopped posting after that…” 

Suguru pauses. “How would you know that?” 

You swallow a big gulp of tea. 

“I might have been a big fan of your work before we met.” 

“Really?” He answers with a slight tilt of his head, clearly very amused. 

“I wouldn’t have reached out to just anyone, you know. But I was really interested in...your work, and when I learned about your little side gig. I couldn’t resist…” 

“Well, color me flattered, sweetheart.” 

You swirl the last bits of tea in your cup. 

“So, why did you stop posting?” 

“I kept the videos up. They’re good and I still make revenue with every ad or view. Satoru’s career was picking up around that time, and he had just gotten clean. He needed somebody to hold him accountable so I started tagging along at his events. I didn’t realize how many people would recognizeme. My first client wasn’t even "a client", he gestures with air quotes, "she was just some woman I met and slept with. I woke up the next morning to an empty hotel room. All that she left behind was an envelope of cash…” 

He pauses. 

“I didn’t know what to feel. A part of me was insulted but another part had never seen that much money handed over so easily. The videos were great but what I earned in a day, is what I got in just a few hours. I was in my mid-twenties, just left the brink of making ends meet and desperate for security. I deposited the cash and kept going. Somehow it snowballed into…” he gestures his arms out, “this.” 

He pours himself another cup of tea. “At first I was a little reckless. Took on too many clients it damn near gave me a health scare. So, I started spacing them out. Keeping to a set number a month and maintaining a high price. I didn’t think that so many people would actually pay for my services, but they do...and I'm comfortable.” 

“Does it ever overwhelm you?” 

“Not anymore. Keeping my partners to a minimum helps. I’m safe and get tested regularly, as I mentioned when we first met,” He lifts the teapot your direction to offer you a second cup, and you accept it by approaching him and allowing him to fill your glass. 

“The thing is I went from never knowing when I was going to eat to having three meals a day. I don’t think I’d change that for the world…” 

“What about your family? Your friends?” You find yourself mindlessly asking. "How do they feel about this?"

“Satoru and Shoko are the only ones who know. Everyone else thinks it’s porn that funds my life. As for my family,” Suguru stops, his voice scratchy as he quickly clears his throat. “Well, they don’t have to worry about it. My parents passed away when I was fifteen. It's just been me ever since”  

The tea burns your lip  and your body trembles at the statement. 

“I’m so sorry…” 

He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. 

There’s a heaviness in the air, and despite how hard he’s trying to hide it you can see how the memory tears him apart. 

“My mom passed away giving birth to me,” you find yourself disclosing to even the scale, “I think that’s probably why my father resents me so much. He never got a son, and lost his wife in the process” 

“I’m sorry to hear that too…” 

You mirror his shrug. “It’s weird. I find myself curious about her - but there’s a detachment when I look at her. Sometimes I think about how different my life might be if she was still around. Or, if she was just like my father and everything would still be the same…” 

“Well, since we are speaking of hypotheticals,” Suguru moves on, shifting the topic as he angles his body more in your direction. “If you had the freedom to whatever you wanted, what would you do?” 

“Me?” You gasp, shocked by his pointed question. 

He smiles an easy smile, “I don’t see anybody else around.” 

You hum thoughtfully. “This might take a minute…” 

He places his cup of tea on the tray by his side and then pats his free hand on his thigh. 

“C’mere and think.” 

Your heart flies up your throat, pulsing just at the base. “You want me to sit on your lap?” 

Suguru nods his head. 

You gulp down the vessel, returning it back to its place. You glide your way towards him, placing the tea cup just next to his own, before settling down onto his lap. 

Suguru wraps his arm around your waist, securing you close into his frame. 

“Do you hold your other clients like this?” 

He shakes his head no. 

“So, you like holding me…” you bluntly point out, “why’s that?” 

Suguru’s face is directly in front of yours, so beautiful you can almost faint right here in his arms. He fingers dig into your waist, his other arm curving over your thigh and gently drawing circles on your hip. 

“Because you fit nicely against me” 

A swarm of butterflies take flight, making you feel lighter than air. You swear he might kiss you then but instead he returns to his question. “So, tell me what would you do?” 

The answer comes to you far easier than you think. From the moment you saw him tonight, you know the truth in the depths of your heart. “I’d like to run away with you,” you confess before stuttering out, “or-or at least somebody like you. Someone who is kind and sweet and thoughtful...”

Suguru leans back against the chair, lifting up one leg and adjusting your positions. He’s careful not to kick the tray with the tea. 

“And where would we go?” 

You sling your arms around his neck, “anywhere - anywhere but here.” 

Suguru slides his palm over the slop of your rear, slipping it underneath the fabric of his shirt and tracing a line over the dimples on your lower back.

“What would we do?” 

“We could lay outside just like this and watch the stars.” 

He hums, “we don’t get any stars out here in the city...”

“No, we don’t.” 

“What else would we do?” 

His other hand starts to unbutton the front of your shirt, revealing the details of the lace underneath. He cups your right breast, his lips shifting to find your neck. 

“We’d do this too,” you sing merrily. 

“Look at stars and fuck our brains out?” He teases, his teeth nipping at your skin. “Sounds like a dream to me…”

He gropes the fat of your breast, unknotting every single secret. “what else?” 

“We’ll sleep all day, and kiss until we’re bored of one another…” 

The hand on your breast moves to circle your neck, Suguru’s thumb massaging the column. 

“I’d never grow bored kissing you-” 

Your body renders against his touch. “Suguru,” you moan, your lips seeking his own. 

Before you can even meet for the kiss, he mumbles your name and follows up with the claim: “you should run away with me.” 

You giggle, still living in the proposed fantasy. “I’m trying to…” 

“I’m being serious” 

The tone of his voice is the reason why you stop to kiss him, pulling away to face the man before you. 

There's no denying the truth on his face - he is actually quite serious about the declaration. 

You hear the dreaded word once more: pathetic. Pathetic because this man is an expert at fulfilling fantasies, is a professional when it comes to healing the hearts of the lonely.

Pulling yourself out of this delusional imagination, you push off him before standing up straight. 

“That’s not funny, Suguru” 

“Who says I’m being funny?” He responds sincerely. 

“What is this? What are we doing? What am I doing? You can’t just-” you lament, pressing your forehead to hand in disbelief as you enter the confines of his apartment, taking a second to breathe. “You can’t just say things like that-” 

He calls out your name again, but the kraken has already been released. 

He follows, tracking into his abode right behind you, all the while watching you stand in the middle of his living room with your quivering hands reaching for the waistband of your underwear.  

“This was a terrible idea. I shouldn’t have-I shouldn’t have gone through with all of this,” you yank out the cheque, showing it to him. “You don’t have to take pity on me. I know I’m just another desperate, pathetic client, alright? I promise you don't have to keep putting up with me and my drama after this. And you sure as hell don't have to keep giving me these mixed messages which only confuse me. I can’t have things getting complicated right before this engagement is about to happen. So, here. Take this cheque and let’s just forget everything else about tonight.” 

Suguru stands there, pensive. His eyes look to the folded paper in your hand, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Instead of reaching for the paper, he simply walks past you, making you spin on your heel as you follow his movements with sheer bewilderment. 

He heads towards the shelf behind you and pulls out a tiny box. He removes something from it, before walking back and facing you once more. 

“Shit got complicated about eight cheques ago, sweetheart,” he negates, holding the thin stack papers between his two fingers as he brings it to your face. His eyes fall to to the crumpled one you are currently holding, “Well, counting the one in your hand, I’d say nine...” 

You can’t believe it.

You pick up the wad and sift through each paper; each cheque one of yours, the date issued a reflection of your last nine meetings with Suguru. 

None of them cashed in. 

“Why do you still have these?” 

Two hands find your waist, your forearms fall into Suguru’s chest as you stare mindlessly at the cheques fanned out between your fingers. 

“I didn’t have it on my conscious to deposit them once I realized my feelings for you. I'm sorry about what you heard earlier, but what Mahito said doesn't apply to you at all,” he responds. “You stopped being a client to me for quite some time...” 

You look up at him. 

His touch tightens around your waist. “You can’t marry Naoya. Or, you shouldn’t. But if you do, I don’t want us to stop seeing one another. We can work something out…”

“Suguru,” you pine, dropping the papers in your hand, each one twirling onto the ground, thousands at your feet. 

His lips catch yours in a subtle peck, all before circling over your bottom lip and sucking on the plush base. He slides his tongue between your lips, feeling yourcrumple into him as the paper crinkles beneath your feet. You moan feeling the sensation of his tongue slide across yours - he tastes like running across a field of chamomile flowers, like you’re holding a basket of fresh, ripe lemons. 

Like you're savoring the most beautiful sunrise. 

His hands return to finish unbuttoning your shirt, shrugging the material off your shoulders and exposing your expensive lingerie set. He grips your hips, your ass - his touch hungry before pressing his pelvis closer to your frame so you can feel his aching member beneath his shorts. 

You squeak into another kiss when he swiftly picks you up from the back of your thighs and carries you across the living room. 

He places you onto his sofa like you’re made of porcelain, keeping you on the edge as he kneels to the ground, his knees sinking into the rug. Two hands find your inner thighs which he pushes apart to reveal the pretty triangle fabric covering your sweet cunt. He kisses your clit over the material. Once, twice, three times…until you’re sighing into the pillow behind you. His tongue drags up, pressing your clothing against your sex, one hand drawing upward to find yours which he holds lovingly. His index and middle finger hook underneath your underwear, and he tugs it aside to reveal your slick coated pussy. 

He kisses your clit again, leaving a path down your damp lips which only makes you moan angelically. 

“This is why I’d never get bored kissing you,” he coos, “You sound like heaven whenever I do...”

Your only response is a vowel, your hand holding onto Suguru’s for dear life as he returns to eat out with such devotion it almost brings tears to your eyes. You pant softly, his wet tongue making you weep between your legs and he gathers your essence and swallows it to parch his craving. You whine feeling the snap of your underwear pinch into your skin when Suguru lets go of the material to mold his palm over the slope of your pelvis. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, his tongue sinking between your wet folds, lips suckling on the petals of your cunt. 

Your hips arch off the sofa, desperate for friction, but Suguru pins you firmly back down. 

“Easy, easy…” he appeases, “don’t cum just yet. Hold off f’me, just for a little bit…” 

He’s never asked because there was never a reason to. For the most part, he was always there to service you. Allowed you to use his body to get you off as many times as you so desired. 

Your voice breaks, “okay,” you answer, drawing out a long exhale when he dives back in. 

The hand on your pelvis climbs up the steps of your ribs, reaching for band of your bra right at the middle. He curls his finger over the boning, and tugs the material allowing your breasts to spill free. He finds the bud of your nipple and tweaks it between his finger, pinching and pulling the aching nub until your writhing beneath him. 

He slurps and sucks, while you moan and whimper, forcing yourself to hold off for as much as your can but you find that it’s far harder to do when your lower belly quakes as it sits on the brink of release. 

“Suguru, Suguru…” you beg, reaching your free hand to your breast and clenching over his fingers. “Suguru, I can’t-m’gonna cum if you don’t stop…” 

He groans against your cunt, pulling away from your pulsing core and letting go of your hand to wipe the dampness off his chin. 

He licks his lips, drunk off lust and of how you taste. 

He keeps his body upright, drags your legs to secure them around his waist as he straightens your back. His hands unhook your bra from behind, the scent of you strong on his lips as he leans up for a kiss. Your hands fall to his shoulders, your belly fluttering as your sex begs for more stimulation. 

Suguru loosens the bra, allowing it to fall to your elbows before kneading your breasts - his thumb swipes back and forth over your nipples. He devours your cry, wolfs down every panting breath as he moans into the kiss. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, taking in the lines of strong abdomen.

“Take if off,” you plead between breaths, “Take it off, please…” 

Suguru listens, breaking apart from the kiss to toss his shirt to the side while you slip off your bra. Your lover’s hand finds your waist, his fingers pinching into the soft flesh. He leans forward to kiss the side of your neck, making a path down the curve and across the field of your décolletage. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs into your breast, his lips snagging your nipple as his tongue rolls over the bud.

Your fingers curl around the back of his head, loosening his bun as you untie the knot. His hair falls like waterfall, the strands tickling your bare skin. Suguru’s hand slips between your legs, his middle and forefinger meeting your clit. You hiss at the contact, sinking your teeth between your bottom lip when Suguru sucks on your breast while simultaneously drawing circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. 

Your breath grows heavier, your hips bucking into him from the sensation of his touch. 

“Feels good,” you mumble, “feels so good with you…”   

He shivers, relieving your breast as his lips search for your own. 

He adds more pressure between your legs, increasing the speed while your tongues dance. When your thighs noticeably quiver he slows down, pinching your clit between his fingers as he softly pecks your cheek. 

“The condoms are in my room…” 

Your sharp nails scratch the back of his neck lightly, “I have one in my purse.” 

Suguru nods feverishly, reaching back to the coffee table and rummaging through your purse. He picks out the shiny wrapper, and stands up to take off his shorts. 

“Wait, can I?” You request, gazing up at him with glittering eyes. 

Suguru swallows hard, and nods his head. 

Your eyes dilate rolling his shorts down, focusing on the tent in the fabric and watching his cock spring free and lightly smack his lower belly. Suguru brings the condom to his lips and rips it open with his teeth, but his eyes flutter when your perfectly manicured hands glide up the length of his shaft. 

You trace the prominent vein, your thumb swiping over the pre-cum beading over  the angry tip. You lick your lips, leaning closer to kiss the base and listening to Suguru sigh. 

You’ve only given him a blow job once before, and that was because you asked if you could. Suguru sets no expectations for himself when it comes to work, but that doesn’t mean that you haven’t fantasized about giving him head countless times. 

You wrap your fingers around his length and stroke mildly, your lips fanning over  his cock before reaching the tip. 

“Sweetheart, don’t-” Suguru murmurs in an attempt to stop you, but you’re already enclosing your lips around the head and pressing your tongue over the slit. 

His head falls back as you suck, a curse leaving him. 

You move slowly at first, dragging your tongue back and forth as you stroke the base. Sukuna was far rougher with you when you went down on him, but Suguru is allowing you to take him at your own pace. Inch by inch, until you were bobbing your head back and forth, strings of saliva webbing off his cock and sticking your lips. 

He thrusts once, not rough enough to hurt but the jerk catches you by surprise. 

You carefully release him, mindlessly wiping your bottom lip and the sight makes his cock twitch. 

Suguru pulls the condom out, and rolls it over his shaft. 

He settles onto the empty seta by your side, and you crawl over the expanse of his gorgeous, chiseled body to kiss him once again. 

His circles his fingers around his cock, his other hand guiding your hip as he aligns the tip to your entrance. Your nail nicks his pec when he pushes against the hole, your mouth circling over his own as you lower down his shaft. 

He fills you up so, so good. Makes your body vibrate with unshakeable desire. 

He groans until he bottoms out , the hand on your hip dipping down from your pubis to your lower belly like he’s trying to outline how deep he actually is before returning it back in place and securing his other hand on the opposite hip. 

Your breasts flatten against his chest, your hands holding on to his strong shoulders for support as you roll our hips.

Suguru works in tandem with your rhythm to fuck you passionately. 

His lips find yours once again for a final kiss, before the two of you get caught up in the moment when he swiftly picks up the pace. 

His hips arch violently, while yours sink - your bodies moving silk. 

“Unghh, oh god, yes-yes-yes~” you moan. 

Suguru’s grip almost feels painful, you know for a fact that he’ll be marking your hips with a few bruises. “Gonna cum-” he rasps, “s-shit, I’m fucking close-fucking close-” 

Your pussy tightens, practically holds his dick in a death grip that makes release a broken moan. His cock contracts upon his release, the sensation bringing you to the edge of yours as the muscles in your lower belly and inner thighs spasm around him. You leave crescents on his skin, your bodies shaking as you both take a second to breathe coming down from your climax. 

You collapse into him, his arms circling behind you, with his racing heart pulsing into your own. He moves so you’re laying side by side, your body sandwiched between him and the couch since he takes up most of the room. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling him grow soft inside you.

Your stuttering breath finally finds a resting poin when he brings your hand and holds it against his heart. 

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper with a kiss to his neck. 

“Whatever you decide, we’ll figure out.” Suguru answers sincerely. 

“I can’t marry Naoya,” you admit out loud, shocked for actually saying it for the very first time. “And I can't share you with anyone else - it already kills me having to do so.” 

Suguru looks down at you, a reassuring smile resting on his lips. “There won’t be anyone else.” 

“I can't just...leave. I can't just drop everything and walking away. It isn’t going to be easy-” you add on, “It’ll take me some time.” 

“I can wait” 

“It might get messy…” 

“When is it ever not?” 

“But we’ve never been in a relationship-” you insist, logic breaking through the barrier of your happiness. “How do we know if this will even work out properly? What if this thing between us fades?” 

“I guess we’re both taking a gamble here…” 

You both stare into the other’s eyes. 

“Do you think it’s worth the risk?” You ask. 

Suguru’s face softens but he leans forward to kiss your forehead. 

“I think it’s worth a try.” 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

TWO YEARS LATER

“You running out on Naoya on your wedding night is still the hot topic.” Kento explains over the phone, “People kept bringing it up, and for whatever reason they just can't seem to get over it.” 

The guilt in your stomach twists into a very small knot, over time the size of it has shrunk to a point where you not longer carry any remorse regarding your scheming behavior. 

You had a plan, and the plan worked. 

"Let's not forget who was there to help..." you contend, disregarding the negativity surrounding your decision.

After you and Suguru spoke, you decided to carry on the facade, agreeing to the engagement and soon after the wedding with Naoya Zen'in. All the while you and Suguru were busy planning your way to cut and run. He cashed in your unsigned checks, and you pilfered a decent amount of the wedding budget which you kept into a seperate savings account.

You played the role as obedient daughter well, and no one was the wiser. 

“Besides, I maintain that it's still the best decision I ever made,” you reply, stepping out of your room and into the kitchen where you are greeted by the sound of clinking dishes.  

Your eyes shift to Suguru - his hair far longer now, flowing beautifully down his back, the front layers tied into a small bun. You smell dinner in the air, and your stomach grumbles with anticipation. 

Nanami doesn't reply, but you can hear that he's distracted from the television in the background. 

“What are you watching?” you ask your friend. 

The man simply sighs. 

“Nothing.” 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing with that reaction. Is it Satoru’s new drama show?” 

At the mention of his best friend you notice your lover glance over his shoulder, quietly tilting his head to direct you towards him. You smile his way, your feet pattering against the hardwood floor as you move closer to him. He bundles one arm around your shoulder, keeping you close while continuing to sauté the vegetables in the pan. 

He kisses the top of your head. 

“It’s all the rage,” you add on to your phone call, “Suguru and I plan on watching the next episode tonight.” 

Kento remains quiet. 

You release yourself from Suguru’s grasp, and instead hop onto the kitchen counter right next to him.

He reduces the heat and picks up the lid before covering the pan. 

“I’m guessing you two haven’t-” 

“No,” Kento curtly replies. “Not since that night…” 

“I’m sorry” 

“Don’t be,” he responds with frustration. “I screwed it up” 

“You know I could just ask Sugu too reach out-” 

“ Don’t,” Kento sighs regrettably. “It doesn’t matter. I heard he’s moved on” 

You quirk your brow, your eyes shifting to Suguru who was back to chopping some fresh herbs. 

“Oh?” 

“It’s for the best I guess,” Kento reassures. “He should be happy with whoever-the-fuck he chooses.” 

“You deserve happiness too, Kento.” 

“You can be happy for the both of us,” he replies, gulping down a drink. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting my lawyer for dinner.” 

“When are you going to visit us next?” 

“Probably around November, December. I just need a few things to ease up on my end-” 

You bite your bottom lip, “I look forward to it.” 

“Take care, love” 

“You too, Ken.” 

You hang up the phone and lean your head against the cupboard as you watch Suguru rinse his hand, a trail of crimson spiraling down the faucet.  

“I cut my finger” 

You pick up a clean towel by your side, and gesture him towards you. 

Suguru extends his thumb out, and you curl the fabric over to keep pressure on the small cut. 

“You ought to be careful” 

“Your legs are a distraction,” 

You stare up at him playfully, and he leans down to kiss the corner of your lips. 

“How’s Nanami?” 

Your lover is indebted to your friend. If it wasn’t for Nanami, the two of you wouldn’t have been able to set up this comfortably. He’s the one who found you the humble two-story abode in Hokkaido, and was also the person who set up your personal bank accounts while ensuring that you would both have a safe and quick getaway on the night of your almost-wedding. 

“Fine, I think-” you reply, before removing the towel to check the damage. Thankfully, it wasn't anything serious. A little deeper than a paper cut.“Licking his wounds over a broken heart, but fine.” 

Suguru reaches for the drawer next to you, and pulls out the emergency band aids. You reach for the box in his hand, taking out one and removing the plaster from the back. You secure it around his cut, and Suguru holds your fingers between his. 

He arches down to kiss your brow. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“You’re welcome, handsome” 

“Dinner will be ready in a few if you want to set the table” 

You nod your head in acknowledgement, and drop down onto the ground before proceeding with your task.

You set the place mats down, a bowl for the soup and another for the rice and cooked vegetables. Your finger traces the rim of the one in front of your seat, a tiny chip from when you accidentally dropped it in the sink while cleaning it a few weeks ago. 

Fragments of these blemishes are all around you - making you almost forget that you once lived in a perfect, curated bubble. But you would take these flaws over everything else. These markings may be worn, but they are a reminder of the home you've been building.

A home that is entirely yours. 

“Baby, you want a drink?” Suguru calls from the kitchen. 

“Melon soda, please” you reply, placing the bowl down. 

“We’re out, I’ve got to pick some up tomorrow.” 

“What are you having?” 

“A beer,” he chuckles, and it sends a tremor of joy between the valves of your heart. 

“I’ll share yours” 

Suguru pulls out the bottle, cracking the cap off as he pops it using the side of the kitchen counter to do so. 

You two meet each other halfway in the space that you've been nesting in. Suguru’s eyes never leave yours when he takes the first sip, and once done he passes the chilled bottle towards you.

“Am I ever going to have you back in the kitchen helping me with dinner?” 

You shake your head no, and bite at the lip of the bottle before taking a sip. “I thought we agreed I was a hazard after the raw chicken fiasco and the almost-fire debacle…” 

He laughs, “no, you agreed. I said it wasn’t a big deal” 

“You just said that because you love me,” you respond, pressing the bottle into his chest as he takes it from your hand. 

“That goes without saying…” he answers, slinging his arm around your waist and pulling you into his frame. 

You lift yourself up on your toes, and kiss his nose. 

“Do you think it’s worth the risk of me attempting to cook for you again?” You whisper against his lips. 

Suguru smiles, a hand cupping your cheek as he leans forward to seal his reply with a  kiss. 

“I think it’s worth the try” 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

tag list: @rottiens @an-ever-angry-bi @mononijikayu @brownskinnedgirll

[rindarudoesshonen]

breeding kink, bdsm, dd/lg

minors dni

When it came to discussing anything with your husband, you were always open with him.

If Shota asked you a question, even a deep, personal one, you had no problem answering it. After all, you would be spending the rest of your life with him, and the only way for him to know was through communication. Nothing seemed to be too much for you.

Until a random night when you two are lounging about on the couch, his lips placing fervent, almost playful kisses on your neck as you giggle under him.

"Got any specific kinks I should know 'bout before we start this?"

You almost think you misheard him, so you brush it off, until he asks again.

And again.

The question is one that was bound to come up. It's one of the reasons you don't like having sex anymore. You can't stand how often he'll poke and prod you about your kinks.

"Leave me alone already!"

The bathroom door is slammed in his face, leaving you two separated for a little while, long enough for you to catch your breath.

That's how most nights end. Both of you are constantly tired, frustrated, and touch starved, yet your inability to speak of your fetishes has you two straying further apart.

Then one day, after months of restlessness, you finally cave.

You're sitting on your shared bed, Shota at his desk at the far corner of the room. He's not prompting you or anything; rather, he's blatantly ignoring you. He'd come home earlier, pissed off from work, and immediately began acting as if you two had already had your nightly battle.

Truthfully, the only thing that got you to open up was how much it broke your heart seeing him like this. He may have just looked angry to anyone else, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight depression in his posture.

You don't give yourself a chance to think, blurting out the first thing you always think of when he asks you that damned question.

"I've always liked the idea of bondage."

Shota is obviously startled, but apart from a twitch of his shoulders, refuses to show it. Instead he turns his office chair around, quirking a brow at you.

It's always this. It's the damned eye contact that always has your stomach twisting into knots, your mind running down tracks of what if he hates me for this and what if he just doesn't say anything because wouldn't that be worse than open disgust and other thoughts around that subject.

But his expression isn't any of that. His interest seems piqued as he folds his hands in his lap and leans forward. He doesn't speak, and that gives you the key to go on.

"It's one for one, Shota," you venture shakily. "If we do this at all, I'd like to know what you like, too."

He sits back, huffing softly as he rubs his thumb against his chin. "Never thought about that much," he admits, standing with a grunt. "I'm not as into the sex department as you are. I figure shit out while I'm in the moment, not before, most times."

"Yet you probe me about my kinks?" You ask. "This is the problem I had, Sho. I can't be sure of what I like if I haven't been given a chance to try it."

That's how you ended up ass up on the bed, legs twitching as Shota's thick cock stretched out your folds. He mercifully gives you time to adjust as he remained seated inside you, hips flush against yours and his chest against your bare back. His lips lay kisses along your neck as one hand massages your breast, the other hand wiping tears from your cheeks.

You two have made love before, but the long break between this session and the last had you burning with the stretch of fitting him again.

Murmuring soothing, praiseful, dirty words in your ears, he slowly retracts from you, his hands finding your hips as he pulls his hips back, slamming back into you so suddenly that you gasp sharply, velvety walls trembling around his shaft. He waits just a moment and then starts again, not quite teasing you but surely contemplating it.

Then suddenly he pulls out, growling low in his throat as his grip on your hips tighten, flipping you onto your back. Shota's eyes bore into yours, unreadable as his gaze wanders your flushed, trembling body.

"Need a taste." The words are barely out of his mouth before he's between your legs, knees over shoulders as his tongue presses against your clit.

The feeling alone is beyond what you expected. You've been so touch-starved for so long, and you bury your fingers in his hair.

He grunts against your cunt before pressing his face deeper, only earning a mewl from you. His eyes stare up at you, amused yet so so hungry as he starts to lap at your folds, his tongue tracing the contours of your arousal slowly and sensuously.

He hums against your skin, feeling your body shudder against him as you moan his name. He continues to pleasure you, his fingers kneading your thighs as he works you toward blissful release. "You're so beautiful, kitten," he murmurs against your skin.

He plants one last kiss on your inner thigh and then pulls back, silencing your quiet whine by pressing his lips back against yours. His shaft presses against your clit, tip flush against your stomach, and you can't resist the temptation to reach down, running your thumb lightly across the tip.

Swiping up exactly what you expected to be there, you bring your thumb to your mouth. A tremor runs through his body from your touch, breaking your kiss momentarily, and you take the time to pointedly place your pre-cummed finger to your lips, sucking on it softly in a way that sparks the fire in his eyes.

The mattress shifts, and suddenly, his hard cock is pressed against your slick folds, and his lips find your neck, leaving showy marks as he jerks his hips forward suddenly. Your body arches against him under the sudden movement, his hold on your hips almost menacing.

"Don't tease me, kitten." Shota's voice is low, brooking no argument. "I know more than one way to tame a brat."

This should have you obeying, you know, but instead, laughter escapes your lips. "Fuck, I'd like to see you try," you breathe.

A mere second seems to pass before your hands are pinned above you, tied around the wrists and held under his right hand as he leans in, breath hot on your neck. "Don't underestimate me." His left hand lands an almost bruising slap to your ass cheek. "You keep teasing me, I will have you begging for mercy. Got it?"

You nod, though you don't mean it at all. His hips resume their earlier pace, low grunts leaving his lips as he gazes between your bodies, watching the way your breasts bounce under him.

"So," you pant, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. "How was work?"

"Oh, you fucking-" he cuts off abruptly, glaring daggers at you. You know it's exactly the opposite of what he wanted to hear, especially since today was a particularly long day for him.

His hand immediately spanks your ass again, and you yelp, jerking under him. His hand quickly moves to your chin, dragging your gaze back towards his again.

"You just have to be a damn disobedient slut, huh?" He hisses through clenched teeth, and the feeling of him pulling out is unexpected.

"On your knees. Now."

You know a bit better now, well enough to know that ignoring these words could end in no sex at all. You weren't quite that interested in teasing him.

So you slide off the bed, sitting on your ass and folding your legs beside you. Your arms are tied behind your back still, uncomfortably. The feeling of your rather damp underside along with the dry, chilly carpet has you twitching. Maybe you shouldn't have teased him.

All regrets fly out the window as he shoves his cock into your mouth. Pressing against the roof of your mouth, sliding down your throat, insistently pushing against your gag reflex until you felt like you were going to gag. Cutting your breathing short, coating your tongue, and filling your eyes with tears.

You fucking love it.

It's all too soon before he pulls out of your mouth, and you almost don't want it to end. But then you're on your back on the bed, hands above your head again with Shota pounding into your cunt. His hips slam into yours repeatedly as he leans down, planting kisses against your neck.

"You gonna fuck around anymore, kitten?"

His question is whispered against your neck, his voice strained and rough and fuck so hot. He's right to ask, of course, and for once you feel no incline to respond sarcastically.

"N-no, Daddy."

The nickname is a breathless mistake; you had no intention of calling him that. But between him fucking you senseless and the dirty thoughts ravaging your mind while your husband ravages your cunt, the words slip out without you noticing.

Shota jerks against your neck, head knocking into your jaw. You turn your head, rolling your jaw as you shake with his thrusts. He lifts his head, hips slowing absentmindedly. "What was that, kitty?"

The fog in your mind is clearing, desperation clawing at you as you search your mind for what you'd just said. You're afraid that at any moment he'll stop, and you'll do anything to stop that from happening.

"I-I said no," you say, stumbling over your words. "I'll be g-good."

"No," Shota shakes his head softly. "What did you call me?"

You hesitate, but only for a second. "Daddy."

Shota let's out a breath, and then presses his face into your neck again, his hips rocking approvingly. "Say it again, baby."

"D-Daddy, please-"

"Please what?" He prompts.

"Please, fuck me," you whine softly, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "I-I- want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight, need Daddy to fill me up and breed me heavy."

The words make his head spin, and before you know it, he's fucking you into the mattress, pounding against you ruthlessly. "You want me to fuck you?" He murmurs. "You want Daddy's cum filling you up?"

"Yes!" You cry, orgasm rising inside you. "Please, Daddy!"

As if by some unspoken agreement, you both reach orgasm simultaneously, your back arching against his body as he kisses your neck fervently. Your fingers tug at his hair, broken cries escaping your lips as his thrusts slow and deepen, driving against your sensitive bundle of nerves until you're a wreck beneath him.

Panting in the afterglow, he rests his forehead against yours, a soft light in his eyes now and a hint of a smile and sarcasm in his voice as he speaks.

"So, got any kinks I should-"

"Fuck off," you laugh.

[thegnomelord]

sof and cute hcs of eldritch reader trying to learn how to people (and maybe some raunchy ones about learning how human "mating" works) hhhhnnnngggh

Imagine Learning To Be Human

CW: SFW and NSFW First TF141 with SFW, then NSFW headcannons, sexting, masturbation, sex toys, morning after (no sex), sexual nudity, nonsexual nudity, implied poly141. GN reader, 500-900 words for each blurb, so somewhere around 5.5k words. Imma be quiet for the next week or so as I prepare for an exam so I'm feeding ya'll :Dd

Imagine SOAP— It's safe to say you're not the best with expressing what you think, especially not in this hollowed out corpse a tiny fraction of your consciousness inhabits. The more you try, the less human your attempts come out, only remembering that humans don't bend that way or don't do something after you've done it. You find yourself gravitating to Soap because he is the opposite of you, so open and responsive like an open book.

Imagine; observing Soap as he tries to piece together the fragments of a bomb, muttering curses under his breath as if the object had just called football 'soccer'. He's so concentrated he forgets the rest of the world exists, oblivious to you sitting across from him. But that's not a problem as it gives you a chance to watch and try to mimic what his face does; the slight hint of teeth as he nibbles on his lip, the furrow of his brows, the tenseness of his jaw pulling on his throat muscles…

You try to mimic every emotion he goes through as he tries and fails and succeeds and fails again to fit the pieces together like a jigsaw, but the hardest one to do is that smile of his. For some reason you just can't get it right, lips pulling back too far, teeth too much on display and brows too furrowed so you end up looking like an old savage.

Then as if to spite you, Soap looks up at you and immediately snorts. "What're yea doin' there Bonnie?" He coughingly laughs as your facial features return to your statue like state.

"Trying to look like you." You huff; at least you can do that correctly.

"Oh, look strapping don't I?" He snorts, doing what Ghost calls 'fishing for compliments' (though you're unsure how one can fish for abstract ideas).

"No more than the rest." You shrug and see him roll his eyes, though the corners of his lips are still quirked up, a hint of teeth on display and vestiges of dimples framing his mouth. "How do I do that?" You ask and motion to his face.

"Do what? Smile?" You snorts, already beckoning you over like you're a dog. "It's easy."

You lean across the table, tilting your head to indicate confusion but leaving your face a blank canvas. It takes all of your presence of mind not to give an earth shattering purr when his hands cup your jaw, distant stars quivering as his blunt nails scratch at your throat for a blissful second.

"Here," His thumbs settle at both corners of your lips, putting gentle pressure until he pushes the flesh back and up in a way that's natural to the skin suit but not you. "There yea go." He grins and pulls his thumbs away after a few moments, grinning when you hold the expression.

"Now yea're as dashing as me." He chuckles and you two must look like utter buffoons just grinning at one another; you wouldn't have it any other way.

Imagine GAZ — You're not exactly alive, technically you're the antithesis to life and existence, so to you, simple rules like eating or sleeping are no more than chalk guidelines after a rainstorm. Gaz doesn't subscribe to this idea, he's always trying to get you to indulge in these human comforts and you always allow him, even if it does include eating more things in a week than most of your kin have consumed in a millennia, if that.

Imagine; wandering the halls on a lazy Sunday morning, no drills to run or missions to prep for, and being drawn to the communal kitchen by the sound of boiling water and banding pans. You find Gaz cooking breakfast for the boys; he's the only one who can cook (according to him) seeing as Price seasons his food with hope, Ghost burns everything into coal and Soap's not allowed into the kitchen after he'd tried to make tea in the microwave (which Gaz had later asked you to exorcise).

"Mornin'." Kyle yawns and smiles at you, dressed in shorts and one of your 'lost' shirts. You do your best to replicate his expression. "Help me, yeah?" He asks and nods his head at what he's cooking.

Your expression falls back to neutral. "You'll need to show me how." You admit as you get next to him.

"Not a problem," He chuckles as he shifts behind you, pressing his chest flush with your back with his hands hovering over yours. You feel his warmth when he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands firm and steady as he shows you how to chop tomatoes and sausages, how to hold the knife correctly and pulling your fingers back when the blade draws too close to the flesh, talking you through it until you can do it on your own.

After that he leaves you to your task as he almost dances around the kitchen, stirring a pot here then putting the kettle on there and so many more little things while you remain where you are because you, by nature, are slow; to adapt, to age, to change.

But you do it for him.

"Those look great." He grins when you're done and then herds you in front of the cooking pans, and you're a little apprehensive about the bubbling oil when he dumps what you'd cut up into the pan. But his warmth is at your back again, steady hands guiding you on how to cook the food without burning your skin and leaving you to it when you catch on.

Then you feel a tug on your shirt, his presence once again next to you, but this time he's holding a piece of sausage on the end of a fork, a hand beneath it so it doesn't drop, "Hey, taste this for me."

You contemplate arguing you can't actually taste food the same way he does, but he gives you a look that has you letting him feed you. Though it tastes no different from everything else, from his hand it may as well be sweeter than ambrosia.

"Tastes good." The way he brightens up at your words makes the food only taste sweeter.

Imagine GHOST —You and him are similar in some ways, you both prefer to stick to what you know, who you know. It's harder for you to contain what you are inside your flesh body when there is so much life around you that every additional heartbeat pulls at the edge of your cold existence. So you stick to close to the people who's warmth has grown so familiar it's indistinguishable from the burning starts making up your real body.

Imagine; attending a celebration held by both TF141 and Los Vaqueros after a mission gone well, loud music and lewd lyrics blaring in your ears as men drink like teenagers at their first frat party. You're in a more secluded part of the bar next to Ghost, both of you nursing drinks while you watch the rest act like fools.

You're a little confused when you see Gaz and Soap move in a strange way, grinding against one another and pressed so close you'd think they're trying to mate, their hands roaming the other's body so roughly you're surprised no pieces of clothing come flying your way.

"Got a free show for my drink." Ghost chuckles next to you.

"What are they doing?" You finally ask when you can't contain your curiosity.

"Dancing." He answers and swallows the last inch of booze in his cup, setting it down on the bar. "For fun." He adds, already expecting the line of questioning, as if that's supposed to make you understand.

"They just look like they're trying to mate." You point out, receiving a long sigh in return.

"How 'bout I just show you." Before you can say anything he nicks the cup of untouched alcohol in your hand and swallows it all down in one go, putting the empty cup next to his before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you outside through the back entrance. You go along with him, but you're confused when you catch Soap's eyes and he wolf whistles at the two of you.

The world outside is calmer than the busy bar, the air much colder; closer to what you are. You turn to him once he lets you go, tilting your head and furrowing your brow to convey confusion. "So…what do I do?"

"Just follow my lead." A gravely chuckle escapes Simon as he closes the distance between you two, his rough hands settling on your waist as he begins to slowly rock both of your bodies along with the music, though his movements are more contained than what you'd seen, a steady push and pull compelling you to follow him.

"Why is this different than what Soap and Gaz were doing?" You ask, clutching his shoulders in return, your forehead almost resting on his chest as you look at your feet so you don't step on his toes.

You feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles, "They set a low bar." He rumbles and his hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up so you two lock eyes, the intensity in his brown irises drowning out the sounds of the bar. "Eyes on me."

You nod. Your eyes stay firmly on him as you sway together to a tune he hums, finding a common ground in the way your cold and his heat mixes together. Above you millions of your eyes peer down at him, for as vast as you are, for this moment your attention is on him.

Imagine PRICE — He can tell how tired you are, not physically but mentally; having to communicate and understand people without the use of a mental link, when even the most complex ideas can be conveyed easily, was starting to fray the edges of your control over your human body. He decided to do something about it.

Imagine; Price taking you and the boys fishing to a remote cabin next to a lake. Knowing you don't sleep he pulls you out by the lake at the ass crack of dawn, having you watch as he sits down on the dock, his pants pulled up to his knees so he can dip his feet in the water while he sets up the fishing rods.

"What are we doing?" You ask but follow his example and sit next to him, the cool water of the lake similar enough to the cold abyss your true body resides to calm your nerves, though you're unsure of what to do when he gives you the fishing rod.

"Fishing." He says as he shows you how to cast out the line. "You look like you need it."

You don't argue with him and just try focusing on fishing, letting him teach you how to watch the line to see when something takes the bait and when to reel it in. You’re unsuccessful your first few attempts, and you have half the mind to just jump in and wrangle the fish in the lake with liquid abyss, but he stops you.

"Catching isn't the point." He says as he smokes his cigar while he takes an old boot off your hook. "It's about relaxing, the fish are just a bonus."

You let out a low sound that vibrates the water, but you settle next to him and cast out the line again. You don’t know how long you sit there next to him, your sides touching with the fishing rod sitting loosely in your hands. After some time you manage to yank out your first fish, and you certainly don't gloat when you pull a few more fish out of the lake while he only pulls out seaweed, but the look of pride in his eyes makes it even better.

Any prospects of catching any more fish are dashed when Gaz and Soap wake up and take running jumps into the lake, scaring all the fish with their splashing. "Like school boys." Price remarks as Ghost comes up to you both, offering beers as he sits down on your other side.

"Summer vacation, captain." Ghost says and slips into the water, and you realize this is calming; in the way you haven't felt before, doing something familiar like watching Soap and Gaz trying to dunk each other in the water but feeling like you’re right there with them, laughing alongside them when Ghost scares the shit out of them by lunging out of the water.

“See sweetheart? ‘S not hard.” Price hums, adjusting his hat though his shoulders are already reddened from sunburns. He offers you his cigar and you accept it, breathing in the nicotine and smoke despite not having lungs or a circulatory system to be affected by it, before you give it back. “Taking it easy is good for you.”

You nod your head, content to sit next to him until something tugs on the line of your forgotten fishing rod and you scramble to reel it in. You give a small grunt as whatever is on the hook struggles, "Yank on it." Price tells you and you do, nearly toppling on your back when you finally win the tug of war. You blink as you look at what you've caught.

A Speedo.

"Well would you look at that." Price chuckles.

Judging by the way Johnny's suddenly bare assed and throwing obscenities in Gaelic your way, you assume that it's his.

“Caught a big one there.” Ghost notes, not yet laughing but his shoulders shake with silent laughter as he slaps Soap's cheeks (of his rear).

He yelps, confident enough to be naked in front of all of you, but not shameless enough to where his cheeks (on his face) don't redden from the way Gaz cackles and wheezes with laughter so loudly he nearly drowns. You give Johnny back his trunks before he can drown Gaz but, maybe you should fish any more.

NSFW:

Imagine SOAP— If anyone ever asks Soap why he would ever send a dick pick to an ancient god, he'll blame anything and everything; on being stood up, on loving himself a little less, on mixing up the numbers, in being black out drunk…

Imagine; him being stone cold sober when the thought invades his mind and he spends the next hour trying to take a good picture: in front of the mirror, on the bed, no clothes, some clothes, the list of positions goes on. He doesn't want to come across like he's compensating by just holding his dick in his hand like some cunt; as silly as it is, he wants the picture to actually tempt you, to make you feel something, though the question of if you even can doesn't cross his mind. He ends up with a picture of him on the bed, the tip of his hard cock peeking out from beneath the band of his boxers.

He won’t admit he holds his breath when he sends the suggestive picture to you alongside a ;) , watching the text bubble appear and disappear multiple times before you just leave him on seen. He deflates and has half the mind to delete the picture and chuck his phone to the other end of his bed but he’s stopped when he gets a message from Price.

‘My office. Now.’

Turns out you were with Price when you saw that photo and without a second thought had shown him it and asked what it meant. Granted Price had seen more than just his dick, but he was less than happy about Johnny sending you unsolicited dick pics.

You quiz Soap for nearly an hour, stone faced and unbothered while he gets redder with every question (what can you send, what not to send, how much to send, etc.) and he gets the impression that's how his ma' felt when she gave him and his sisters 'the talk'. “So, yeah.” He clears his throat, whole face feeling hot. “Don’t do it ‘lest yea’r asked or yea like ‘em.”

Thankfully Price finally lets you go when you’re satisfied with his answers and Soap can’t scamper fast enough out of his office with his whole face in flames.

He deletes the photo soon after but you've already burned it into your memory where it will outlast the stars, and the idea to reciprocate festers in your ageless mind like rot until you find yourself in front of your mirror after a shower. You play with the phone for a long time, snapping a few blurry close up shots of your face while you attempt to change it from the front to the back facing camera.

It takes even longer to figure out what to send as Soap wasn't that clear with his answers. Your siblings give you pointers, and first you attempt to take a picture of your most private part — bones snap as your rib cage splits open into a maw, vines full of eyes wrapping around your ribs like ivy as tendrils of darkness unwind just enough for the anti-light of your very essence sucks up all the light in the room — but the mirror cracks and your phone just shuts off with a pitiful whimper.

After fixing the mirror you end up doing what you do best; you mimic one of the statues you'd seen the Greeks make, the towel wrapped just along the V where your thighs connect to your pelvis, exposed from the waist up with your skin still wet. Your body isn't as demure as the muses that sculptor had used, but you hope Soap will appreciate it as you snap a few more photos and send them to Johnny with the same ;) he'd sent you.

Soap nearly chokes on his spit when he gets the photo, all the blood in his brain flooding south as his eyes rake over every exposed inch of skin, every curve and every dip in the muscles making him drool and cock harden and he's racing to your room before you even have the time to turn your phone off.

Imagine GAZ — For all of your pitfalls and misunderstandings he likes the little hints of inhumanity in your speech, in your mannerisms, in knowing you could be anywhere and anytime but you choose to be next to him. He couldn't imagine himself being enamored with an ant, yet you hang on his every word like he's revealing secrets you don't know, making him feel special; he feels so bad when his thoughts of you stop being innocent.

Imagine; He tries to keep things respectful, but his imagination runs wild when you do the simplest things. Bend down to tie your shoe? He's checking out your arse from the corner of his eyes. Stand behind him? He's suppressing a shiver just imagining your body draped over his in post-coital bliss. Check his skin for injuries? Gaz has to bite his lip to keep from begging you to touch all of him, to explore his body. Work out? Kyle's lucky if he doesn't start drooling imagining going over and licking the sweat off your skin, of feeling your muscles tense beneath his tongue while you continue to work out with him between your legs.

When he can't think of you without popping a boner he ends up having to compromise before the shame eats him whole. He goes on a random porn site; he usually prefers just using his imagination but when his mind keeps circling back to you he has no other option, and his conscience gnaws on him when he ends up finding a porn star with similar features to yours. It's not wrong if he's wanking off to a different person, right?

Heat's already burning in his stomach when he slouches in his chair, his back to his room and one earbud in his ear. Shame continues to eat at him when he's both delighted and disheartened by the fact the porn star sounds nothing like you, that his bones don't shiver like they do when you talk.

He keeps the volume low and instead focuses on rubbing and squeezing his cock the way the porn star does to a second actor, and he can't help imagining what you'd sound like; high pitched and whiny? Husky and low? Completely silent or animalistic? The idea of pulling sounds of pleasure out of your throat has him leaking. His head lolls back and he moans as he squeezes the base of his cock, his eyes open just enough to blur the fine details on the porn star's face so you two become indistinguishable.

His heart stops when you burst through his door, a random question leaving your lips before your ears pick up the moans and slick sounds coming from his direction. You're next to him in an instant, looming over his chair and caging him in with your eyes stuck to the screen. "What are you watching?"

"Get out!" He yelps and tries to push you away but it's like trying to move a mountain.

"Why does that human look like my vessel?" You persist, "And why are you watching humans mating when you told me it's wrong?" You tilt your head, luckily not seeing his hand on his hard cock, the porn reflecting in the blacks of your eyes.

“It’s on the net it’s different! People upload it for others' pleasure and-” He sputters and cuts himself off when he registers your words, freezing in place and that accidentally gets him to squeeze the head of his cock.

Your pupils widen like a cat’s when you hear the little moan escape his chest, your head automatically dropping down to see where his other hand is. "Oh,” is what comes out of your mouth when you see his hard weeping cock. “Can I?” You ask, making an odd motion with your head.

He thinks you're asking to leave and nods. "Yeah-" Gaz wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, his cheeks burning red like he's a lobster in a pot. “-can you pl-please leave-”

He wheezes when your cold hand suddenly wraps around his cock, your hold firm and just at the edge of pain but still making him throb. A few more eyes spread across your skin to see him while you watch the video still playing on his computer, giving his cock a small pump and shaking the stars with your purr when he moans.

"What are-" He neck nearly snaps to look at you, a shiver raking his body and another moan escaping him as you squeeze the head of his cock, your skin like ice yet it makes him burn with arousal.

"Watch." You order and turn his head with your free hand so his eyes are back on the screen. You don't know why he's watching a fake 'you' mate when he could just ask you, but you know one thing; the person on the screen is competition, and by the way you roughly stroke his cock until he's whining and leaking like a tap, Gaz can tell— you don't like competition.

Imagine PRICE — He never imagined he'd need to have 'the talk' with a god; sure, you may understand how sex works, but you're hopeless in understanding the nuances of it all. If someone doesn't directly say 'let's fuck' you assume any touches from them, even groping, is just them being friendly. It makes his blood boil, seeing you be taken advantage of like that.

Imagine; You're in the bar with the boys and Price is a couple of drinks in when he sees being felt up by a stranger and you're oblivious to his advances. A green eyed monster nips at Price's heels and he doesn't notice when he puts himself next to you, 'accidentally' shoving the other guy back with just his bulk. His presence, his demeanor, and the few harsh words spoken in a clipped tone has the other guy scampering off.

He doesn't remember much after that, only the way you'd looked at him — with the intensity of a ravenous void, like he was a bright star you wanted to devour.

What wakes him isn't his clock, but the rays of sunlight gently streaming through the curtains. He groans as he registers the awful ache behind his eyes before he even has a chance to open them. He feels his bed shift and his eyes snap open automatically, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees you laying on your side as you stare at him.

"Jesus!" He jumps up, nearly topples over from the sudden vertigo but your steady hand on his shoulder keeps him upright, making him realize he's nude.

"He's not here." You shrug and as you sit up his sheets pool around your waist, making him realize you're naked from the waist up, though he doesn't want to think if you're naked naked. His fists clench when his eyes roam over your exposed body against his will, settling on the various hickeys decorating your shoulders and neck.

His heart sinks. "What…what happened last night?" He asks and doesn't want to know the answer, his stomach churns with shame.

"Oh, uh, you got drunk, I got you home, you started kissing and biting me." You say, tracing the numerous hickeys and indents of his teeth across your human form like they're medals. "Then you pulled me into your bed and wouldn't let me go. Then you passed out." You say as if nothing's wrong, and even if no sex happened it's little consolidation to the fact he took advantage of you.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He asks as he takes a shaky breath, shoulders hunched up around his ears and eyes downcast, bile burning in his stomach.

"Why would I?" You tilt your head and shift positions to face him fully, the sheets falling away to reveal you are naked naked. "I may not understand you fully, but I would have stopped you if you did something I didn't want."

Price hates himself for how he can't tear his eyes away from your body. "But you let me." He insists and tries to get you to see reason, to be as angry and disgusted with him as he is with himself.

“Yes.” You are growing annoyed as well, silently cursing the frailty of the human mind; things would be easier to explain if you could just use mental communication… “You are less than insects to my kin.” You sigh and move to straddle him before he can get away, pinning him under you. “You are a sun to me.”

Even calling him a sun doesn’t do him justice; suns die out like firecrackers when your immeasurable body passes over them, when you devour them, him, you want to keep, to protect, to wrap in your cold abyss until he’s warm and safe.

He sucks in a breath, the gears in his head turning as he tries to understand. “What?-”

“Can I touch you?” You ask, your hands respectfully on your thighs as if you’re not pinning him in place with your weight. There’s a dark intelligence in your eyes, the same ravenous void staring at him behind the black of your eyes. You are not a child, you are a god.

"Why?" He sucks in a sharp breath as he breathes in your smell, the scent of dying stars and burn ozone tickling his lungs. "You don't have to." He says weakly, because what would anyone, god or not, want with him?

"You left marks on me, I want to do the same." The way you say it makes him think of godhood; not the bleak madness you are, but the type humanity romanticizes. Your lips part as if you're thinking of marking him, bits of oblivion staring back at him from the darkness of your throat when he looks too closely at your mouth.

He submits so fast. "C'mere then," He pulls you close by your head, kissing you like he's trying to steal your ichor, his body burning hot when your hands grip him tight enough to leave moon shaped bruises in his skin — the first of many you intend to give him, until you've marked him as yours and yours alone.

Imagine GHOST — Ghost prefers to show you rather than spend hours trying to explain things to you, he's more stricter with you when you try to do things you're told not to, both for your and everyone's safety. You never do quite learn.

Imagine; Ghost recently confiscated your phone when you tried to see what humans thought about you, or what they imagined you and your kin to be, on a website called 'Rule34'. Ghost had snatched the phone out of your hands before you could even click the link. After a week he gave you the go ahead to take it back, but got called to run a drill so just said to go find it.

Now, you've been told not to go rooting around other people's belongings, but while searching for your phone you'd fallen back into your old habit and snooped around until you found a small box in the bottom of his dresser. Thinking nothing of it you opened it and found…something. A lot of somethings; handcuffs, rope, weird egg shaped thing, a weird tube with a hole in it that squished like a stress toy but had a cunt molded at one end, but what drew your attention — was the dismembered black cock in the middle of the box.

You and all of your kin scratched your collective heads over the thing you now held in your hand, you'd been under the impression humans didn't carry around body parts anymore so you were stumped why Ghost had a dismembered dick and balls in his dresser. Besides the pitch black color and flat base it looked so realistic and the way it flopped when you turned it in your hand made you feel the same way humans did when seeing you.

So you got up and wen to ask Ghost about it, the thing held out in your hand when you found him with the rest of the boys. "Ghost, why do you a have body part in your closet?"

Your question made them all turn to look at you, Ghost made a strange sound like a strangled dog while Gaz and Soap fell over laughing and Price shielded his eyes with the rim of his hat.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He snarls and before you know it he’s stomping over to you and dragging you by the front of your clothes, “What I tell you about snooping?”

“I couldn’t find my phone,” You try to argue but don’t struggle and just let him drag you somewhere like you're a kitten until you find yourself in his room with the door firmly locked behind him.

"Right." His tone makes it sound like he doesn't believe you, his rough hand pushes you down on his bed and he yanks the thing from your hold. “You want to know what this is for?” He asks and holds the the cock with the head pointed at you like a knife.

You nod your head and try to rise up but he pushes you back down, you're not even sure where he gets the handcuffs from but there's cold steel around your wrists before you can notice it. It's his order to "Sit and watch." that actually keeps you down, and you see the corners of his eyes shift to denote a smirk. "Do what you're good at."

You don't blink as you watch him disrobe until he's only wearing his mask, and your surprise is obvious when he sticks the thing on the floor and it stays up right. "This," He growls and sinks to his knees on the floor, a towel under him, "Is a fuckin' dildo." He reaches over and takes a small tube, squirting viscous liquid on his fingers. "You don't ever take it out of my room. Got it."

He leaves no room to argue and you rapidly nod your head. You find yourself breathless as you watch him reach behind himself and you don’t even notice how a bit of your oblivion leaks from your pores and spreads across the ground like spiderwebs, eyes blooming in the small pools all around him so you can see the way he roughly pushes a finger into himself, your hands clenching as his rim flutters around his large fingers.

"What is it for?" You find your voice, the sound ringing like the inside of a dead star the longer you watch him roughly stretch himself, pushing two then three fingers into his ass.

"Fun," He chuckles and feels so powerful when your eyes have all but turned black with hunger you've yet to notice. "It's a toy, for adults." He pulls his fingers out and squirts more liquid on the dildo, before sinking down on the toy in one fluid move that leaves him hissing at the stretch, his rim fluttering around the thick base.

Something about the way the toy is of a similar color to your real body has you wriggling beneath your human skin, the air vibrating as you groan and try to reach out to him, wanting to cover him in your body and have all of him feel all of you.

"No." Just one word has you sitting back on the bed like a dog, a pitiful sound rumbling across the void as you can do nothing but watch. "This is what you get for snooping." He's so smug with the way he has such control over you without even touching you, his thick thighs tensing as he slowly bounces on the dildo, "Now watch. Maybe if you're good I'll let you touch me."

You'll do whatever he says so long as you get to feel him.

[enmie]

*♡∞:｡.｡ Basorexia ｡.｡:∞♡*

➶ bsd's Dazai, Ranpo, Tecchou, and Poe getting perhaps a bit too spoiled

➶ basorexia: the intense desire to kiss 【romance】

➶ cw: gn!reader. suggestive (mild.) cussing (very mild)

𓅪 there will be a pt. 2 soon!

𓅪 (in thirty m :DD) I'm sorry its short.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Osamu Dazai's!

That's a little too much kisses, but he thinks he can take it! Dazai's face lights up a hundred bolts whenever he feels those plump, red lips press against his cheek. Or, whatever place. You sometimes place them on his jaw, on his neck, sometimes on his forehead. You find yourself sneakier on his stomach, directly on his lips. And you're extremely lucky whenever he lets you kiss his hair.

But today he notices you're kissing his bandages. He's just utterly confused, why you're so clingy and intimate and... loving. The contact between the roughed up bandages on his arms, and your oh-so-soft lips, it felt like he really was different. He had you. You were his.

You started by kissing his palm, which didn't surprise him at all, but slowly, you began to trail down. That was just a few minutes ago, he thinks, so how did it get to this? Holding his arm up, you're near his desk, placing gentle kisses on his forearms, slolwy, but surely.

"Well, look at you," Dazai starts. You look up (without halt) just to notice that smirk. You grumbled against his arm. "Just let me..."

"Oh, no, no," He seductively mumbles in a singsong tune. "I think it's my turn, don't you? Hm?"

Ranpo Edogawa's!

He can't help but be so whiny in front of you. Whenever you shower Ranpo with kisses, he passes out (mentally of course! Can't have the greatest detective in the world unconcious, can we?) So he pouts, stomps his feet, giggles, but then cries. Why the fuck is thid grown man crying? You sometimes wonder how a kiss on his forehead can get him so worked up.

Then again, it's so damn cute, so you can't really mind. That pout, his lips that curl down ever so slightly, and then that cute-ish, annoying-ish look in his eyes; you never question why you're so utterly in love.

"Forehead kisses are diiiiffereeeent," Ranpo whines, laying on top of you, controlling how heavy he's weighing down, on the cold, twin-sized bed. And you kiss him on the forehead as he says that.

"No they're not," You disagree. You giggle, noticing how his breathing slowed down to match yours, since his was always so fast-paced. "They're the same as every kiss."

The detective shakes his head like crazy, messing his hair up just for you to tidy it up again. He's always like this, either pouting like a kid or smiling like a complete, big idiot. You adore him so much you can't help but mind his childishness. Like you want to squish his cheeks every chance you get, or put his growing, dark hair into some kindergarten hairstyle.

He loves you. A lot. "Then again, cheek kisses are different, too," He hums against your chest, the low noise vibrating through every bone, every muscle, every nerve in your body.

Ranpo finally decides on something, the cutesy pout replaced unexpectedly by his enthusuastic smile."Every kiss with you is different!"

Suehiro Tecchou's!

The blushing mess he is, it's your fault. Suehiro usually looks stoic, but you know he's just a big baby. Your big baby, thankfully. It's not his fault you keep kissing his chest after a hundred (maybe two hundred) push ups for himself. He doesn't think it's hygienic of you, but oh well, he can take your pretty lips just fine.

He loves having you sat on his lap, letting you kiss every part of his body. And you enjoy it, because well, who wouldn't enjoy those chiseled abs and those soft but hard pecs? You just love your boyfriend's soft personality and muscular body.

"I'm all sweaty though," Suehiro says with a neutral expression, putting his hands on your hips to help you get onto him, although he was protesting against it.

"Even hotter." You comment with a lick of your lips. You kiss his chest, once, twice, thrice, and he breaks. He turns into some blushing mess he was sure nobody but you could see. "Let me shower first," You hum, shaking your head.

You're filled with dirty thoughts the moment you're with him; how could you not when he's practically asking to be loved so tenderly? "I might do something to you if you shower," You say with a suggestive wink, your lips making contact with the space between his pecs.

"You?" He chuckles, a sweet chuckle coming from a deep voice. "You're doing something to me?"

"Yeah, why?" Before he can even shower, he'd be doing something to you.

His calloused hand begins trailing lower and lower, from your waist to your hips, from your thighs to your inner thighs, his large hands only get closer to your core. "You're too confident, baby."

Edgar Allan Poe's!

It's a bit odd when he shrieks as you kiss him. Poe's hair covers his eyes most of the time, and whenever he grows his lustrous locks out, they cover his cheeks, too. Luckily, he's just had a haircut and you start to mess with him in his office to see that blush you love causing.

He's quite sure he was peacefully writing another fiction book, when you randomly entered his room and started getting all over him. He won't complain, he's your boyfriend. He's a good one.

But when you started kissing his hand? He died.

Poe shrieks in horror when you pick up his slender writing hand to press it gently against your lips, the ones that of course only he's allowed to touch. He doesn't hate it—not at all—but he loves it so much he's scared. And the sudden level of his voice startles you even though you almost instantly realize he's blushing. The boy is blushing!

"You like it?" You ask as a little tease. He huffs. "Weirdo."

You kiss his the back of his palm again, he lets out another shriek, shaking his hand like he was attempting desperately to shake the kiss off. So cute, you think. Of course he's overreacting, but that's just how he usually is.

"Y-you wouldn't like it either if I kiss you, huh?!" He yells out panickingly, all red-faced. "You squirm as much as I do!"

"Ye, but you're cuter," You insist. And he panics again, when you kiss his palm, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin as he stifles his voice.

You're ending up somewhere else. That's final.

ⒺⓃⓂⒾⒺᛌⓈ first bsd fanfic | all the people that liked this will be tagged: Taglist: @littleangelowo @mimi-asalways @glitch-ink3 @chuuya-apologist @kouleblanc

update: : @swaggestsillyfailure @noctywockty @icyfirecookie @byzantiumhollow

update: @dunnojustwannahavefun @anastasiamarch-27 @gayfrogswithhats @dazkai @matchboxartist

PART TWO!!

[merbear25]

Hiiii! :DD can I request Franky, Zoro, and Luffy x a really cute hyper feminine?

Hey, hey! You sure can request this! This was adorable to think about, so thank you for sending it in! I hope you like what I’ve written for you. 💜💜

CW: fluff, fem!reader, headcanons, romantic

With a cute and feminine reader (Franky, Zoro, Luffy)

Franky

It’d take him a long time to stop blushing madly at your mannerisms.

Even though he was a big guy who was silly and kind of immature, he could appreciate the delicate and feminine beauty you had.

He’d want to be gentle with you, holding you close to him and giving you cuddles.

He loved everything about you, but he especially adored your sweet laugh. When he was around there was always a joke being told or a laugh projecting out of him. Hearing you laugh at his silly behavior would mean so much to him.

There were moments you’d look at the other when they were doing something. Admiring them while they were lost in their own little world.

When he was working on building something or tending to the Sunny and caught you looking at him - your face beaming with adoration - he’d tease you and blush slightly.

He liked looking at you when you were sitting quietly completely immersed in one of your hobbies. That gentle smile and sparkle when your eyes met his never failed to send him over the moon.

Zoro

He wasn’t really sure what to think of your hyper femininity at first because, in a way, it came off as an act. Almost as if it was slightly done to get attention.

However, the more time he spent around you, the more he understood that you were being your genuine self.

It took him a while to get used to your quirks. There were times he wasn’t sure if he’d upset you or make you feel uncomfortable in some way, seeing as he was far from what you were probably used to.

He still cared about you, even if he didn’t always express it.

With your fondness of perfumes, lotions and other various beauty products, he’d roll his eyes—not really seeing the point in all of it.

When he finished a workout session one day, you offered to give him a massage. You used one of your favorites on him as you soothed all the wear and tear in his tired muscles.

That may have been the moment you won him over entirely. The selflessness you showed him along with the gentle care you gave him were actions he wasn’t going to easily forget.

Luffy

You didn’t have the easiest time hitting it off. There were moments you appeared to be cowardly to him and unwilling to get your hands dirty in a sense.

But similarly to Zoro, after spending more time around each other, he came to realize you were more than what you presented yourself as.

He didn’t really think much of your overly cute and feminine behavior. To him, that was just how you were.

That being said, he quickly came around to the pampering aspect. Whenever you played with his hair, it became impossible not to drift off to sleep in your lap. When his body ached, he asked if you could use some of that ‘smell good’ oil or lotion on him, which you had no issues doing.

He came to deeply appreciate you and would even offer to return the favor if you were feeling a bit sore. Having someone to share these types of things with - things that he wouldn’t have thought of doing prior - gave your relationship depth.

And of course, he would forever be yours if you could cook.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

daddy's girl loves dick

paring: leon x reader

cw: dd/lg, pacifier, cockwarming, p in v, breeding kink, almost somno ig (falling asleep w the dick inside?)

summary: leon's baby girl (reader) loves his dick idk

a/n: might delete later idk

wc: 2k

Sometimes, you don’t have the strength to speak, but Leon’s learned to recognize your gestures and facial expressions. Long days at work can drain a baby girl’s energy. When you walk into the living room wearing your pink pajamas, Leon lets you move him around however you want and he listens to all your little grumbles. He’d put you to bed a few minutes earlier, but it seems you missed daddy too much. It baffles Leon how you could have trouble sleeping without him when your plushies take up almost all of the space on your bed. 

 You climb into his lap and he asks you a question. All he gets is a mumble of nonsense from you. He doesn’t bother making you speak, he can tell you’re not in the right headspace for words.  

“Show daddy what you want,” he says. His arms lie by his sides, waiting for you to wrap them around yourself. You want to be held, right? 

You start unbuttoning his jeans and he laughs. He assumed you wanted comfort, not dick. Sometimes it’s the same thing, though, isn’t it? 

“I’ll help you,” he says, taking your tiny fingers and lifting them away from their place, so that he can unzip his fly and slide his pants down. “These too?” he points to his underwear and you nod. He takes them off and reveals his half-hard cock. 

You start playing with it, lazily stroking him. You always seem fascinated by it despite seeing it daily. Sometimes, it feels like Leon’s the specimen in a human anatomy 101, a class with hands-on experiments. It’s unclear if you have a goal or if you’re just playing with him out of your own curiosity, but Leon doesn’t mind. He’ll gladly be another toy in the gigantic collection you’ve amassed. 

After a moment of your mindless toying with his dick, you take your own pants off and he understands your intentions. You sit down in his lap, facing him, and look up at him like a soldier waiting for orders. Daddy’s obedient girl, daddy’s good girl.

He lightly rubs his fingertips over your clit. “Good?” he asks. 

You nod and reach for the pacifier on the side table. He hums an affirmative and places it between your lips. You suckle on it, momentarily taking solace in the rubber nub between your teeth. You whimper as he continues to touch you, tracing circles around your clit. When you meet his gaze, he sees the dazed look in your eyes. Your head is filled with him. 

His cock stands firm against his abdomen despite the fact that you’ve done little to help him reach this state of arousal. You take his dick in your hand and try to guide it towards your entrance, but he stops you. 

“Not yet,” he says and you kick your feet in protest. “Daddy’s gotta get you ready first.” 

You agree - because daddy’s always right - and let him scissor his fingers in and out of you. He works quickly to prepare you since he can see how impatient you are. He grabs your hips when he decides you’re ready and he slides in, slowly. You scrunch up your face and close your eyes when you feel the head slip inside you.   

“It’s okay, just a bit more, it’s just a little stretch,” he whispers in your ear. “All done,” he says once he’s filled you. 

He pats your bottom lightly. “You can move, baby,” he says, assuming you want to ride him. 

When your body remains still, limp in his arms, he says, “You want daddy to do it?”

You shake your head, rubbing your nose against his shirt.

“You just wanna sit here?”

You nod, mouth still around the pacifier, cheek pressed to his chest. Neither of you have taken your shirts off yet. It looks like you got tired and gave up on your initial plan based on the way you rub your eyes. 

Leon resigns himself to the fact that this is tonight’s activity. His little girl just wants to sit on his dick. He considers taking a nap, but it’s a little hard when you’re squeezing around him. No, it’s very hard. 

He stays put on the couch, pants at his ankles with you half naked on top of him. While he rubs your back with both hands, he closes his eyes. Once he gets past the initial feeling of your warmth surrounding him - an overwhelming pleasure that threatens to drag him into his orgasm - the urgent desire to grab your hips and bounce you up and down fades and his whole body relaxes into the couch cushions, he swears he could fall asleep like this. 

Until he hears sniffles and feels wet droplets on his shirt. 

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks. He tries to lift you off of him, but you cling to his shoulders. 

“Do you want daddy to pull out?”

You shake your head vehemently. 

“What can daddy do for you, baby?”

“Stay,” you say, letting the pacifier fall from your lips, leaving a trail of spit. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, wiping the saliva that hangs from your mouth. He can’t go anywhere. He has the physical strength to move you, but not the mental fortitude. His love for you is bigger than any of his own desires. 

You continue to cry, and begin to babble something incoherent. 

“Do you need daddy to understand you?” Sometimes you want to talk through your feelings and sometimes you just want a hug. 

You shake your head. Just the hug, it seems. 

“You just wanna cry it out?”

“Yeah,” you choke out the word between your hiccuped cries. 

“Oh, baby.” He knows it’s not about him, that what he’s doing is what you want, but seeing you cry kills him. He tried to steady his own breaths in an effort to get yours to even out as well. He rubs your back and shushes you, mumbling sweet nothings. 

You agree to let him take you to bed and lie down so you can try to sleep so long as he agrees not to pull out. He spoons you while you hug a plushie and suck on your pacifier. 

At some point during the night, you wake up, and  Leon is still inside you, fully-hard. It feels good, tantalizing, really. He’s so close to rubbing against that special spot inside you. 

It might not be ‘good girl behavior’ based on daddy’s rules, which include “you have to tell daddy if your princess parts feel funny,” but you don’t want to wake him. You decide to play with yourself a little bit, just rubbing your clit, simple, but effective. Too effective, it turns out. You find yourself writhing against Leon, clenching around him. 

“Huh?” he says, groggily coming out of his slumber.

“Sorry, daddy,” you say, voice shaky, so close to the edge.

“You touchin’ yourself without daddy?”

“I couldn’t help it.” You try so hard to be good, but sometimes you fail. Your neediness only makes Leon love you more.

“I know, baby, it’s okay. When you feel all achy down there it’s hard to think, huh?”

“Can only think about daddy,” you confirm.

If only you could see Leon’s face. You’re so adorable he could cry. When he first woke up, he wanted to fuck you into oblivion, but now he wants to hold you for the rest of his life, keep you safe in his arms. 

“Do you need daddy to help you with your princess parts, baby?”

“Need daddy’s help.” Duh. You always need daddy’s help.

When Leon rubs figure 8’s on your clit, you moan. You’re close to tears, but not the same kind you shed earlier. With the way you’re clenching around him, he can feel how close you are to cumming. 

“Baby, do you want daddy to move?”

“No, it’s too much.”

Leon isn’t the slightest bit disappointed, he can’t be. Just hearing your moans when he does this for you is more than enough to satisfy him. You get tighter and wetter, and Leon begins to realize that he could cum like this. 

His breath is heavy. “Sweet pea, you know you’re squeezing daddy real tight, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. 

“Are you doing it on purpose?” He really can’t tell. Sometimes you’re sneaky like that, and given your track record - having broken one rule already - he can’t be sure.

“Mm-mm. Can’t help it.”

“You’re makin’ daddy feel really good when you do that. Gonna make me cum inside you.” He hopes the praise will quell whatever sadness landed you here in the first place.

“Can you give me a baby, daddy?” you ask.

Oh fuck. That’s it for Leon. 

“You want me to put a baby in you?” His voice is deeper, heavier, he’s holding himself back from fucking you senseless. 

“I want daddy’s baby in me.” You say it so flippantly, like you don’t understand the implication of the statement. A baby is just one of the dolls you push around in a plastic stroller. You can’t have a baby, you’re Leon’s baby.

But something primal inside Leon needs to breed you.

“Oh baby, you can’t say stuff like that. Daddy’s not gonna last.”

Your cunt has an iron grip around his cock, making it near impossible for him to pull out anyway. Your legs start to tremble before you gush around him.

You cry out “daddy,” once, the word elongated, and it flows seamlessly into a moan. You grasp the pillows, the sheets, anything in front of you since your arms can’t reach around and cling to Leon. 

“Daddy’s right here, baby,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady and soothing, but it all ends with a groan, shameless, as he feels your slick coating his cock. It takes every bit of Leon’s strength not to move. He can’t help the steady pulses of his dick as he releases inside you. Like a clairvoyant, you push your hips back into Leon’s, slowly guiding him through his orgasm. Without thinking he thanks you through heavy breaths. 

Leon walks into the bathroom and grabs a washcloth to wipe you down, but when he gets up to throw it in the hamper, you pull him towards you. “Baby,” he laughs, “I’ll be right back.”

But you don’t budge. Your greedy fingers find his soft cock, and you say, “I want it in me.”

“Sweet pea,” he says, cupping your cheek, “it’s not gonna go in right now.” You look distraught at the idea that his dick won’t do what you want. Leon would will it to go up for you if he could. “We can make it go up again later, but right now it’s tired.”

“I’m tired,” you say, empathizing with Leon’s dick. 

“Yeah, I know. I can see that you’re tired, so we’re gonna go back to sleep, yeah?”

“Can I put it in my mouth, daddy?” He sighs and shakes his head, but a smile peeks through. He never expected his sweet little girl to be this obsessed with his dick. Half the time it’s an innocent affection, the kind you have for the rest of Leon. 

“Okay, but only for a minute, baby. Daddy’s sensitive.”

You nod in understanding and gently take him into your mouth when he lies down. You don’t move, you just lie there with your head nuzzled in the space between his hips while he runs his fingers through your hair. 

“Baby,” he whispers after a minute, but you don’t respond. He realizes, then, that you’ve fallen asleep with his limp dick hanging out of your mouth. As cute as it is, Daddy is selfish sometimes. He needs his baby, too. 

He hoists you up so your head lies on his chest. “Daddy loves you,” he whispers as he kisses you on your temple. You don’t respond verbally, you’re too tired. Instead, you draw a heart with your index finger on his chest. He draws one in return on your back. 

[starryinkart]

[CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY!!!]

(Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!)

Soooo I was sucked into Poppy Playtime again because of these goobers!! I don’t think I’ve ever posted Poppy Playtime stuff on here before, buttt I think I will now, I just wish the fandom was a bit bigger and more lively lmao 🤣

Catnap is my #1 favorite, then DogDay, then KC, and then Hoppy! I love the others too, but Bubba and Crafty are so hard to draw atm. I just need to practice more with them!😓

{Colorless Lines Below!!}

Headcannons for them below too!!!

———————

Some headcannons in the show universe cause I’m feeling fun:

- Catnap is the youngest! DogDay is the oldest of the crew! Their age order goes (oldest to youngest) DogDay, Bubba, Picky, Kickin, Crafty, Bobby, Hoppy, Catnap!

- Catnap doesn’t talk much, but he can. Just with a low voice that tends to be calming, and very sweet sounding. He usually just points, says short answers like yes or no, and nods.

- While Kickin (or KC) is the most egocentric and confident, Hoppy is the most energetic and tends to like talking people’s heads off, which causes them to butt heads at times, all while Picky tends to be the usual third wheel, often just quietly eating.

- Crafty is the most creative while Bubba is the most thoughtful and intelligent, which usually allows them to have deep, meaningful conversations of the wonders of life together.

-Crafty is the shyest out of the bunch, usually drawing with Catnap calmly, sharing her creations with him or hanging out with Bubba.

- Bobby and Picky tend to share their love for the world together, usually playing dress up with each other, talking about crushes. or cooking of course! Bobby always has something lovely to share and Picky, in contrast to her name, always is open to trying something new, as long as she thinks she may like it.

- In contrast to the canon, all of the crew just magically woke up in the Playcare, with no memories of before they opened their eyes to the colorful world around them. DogDay and Bubba were the first to appear, Picky, Crafty and Kickin spawning after, Bobby and Hoppy spawning together and Catnap spawning alone. There seems to be no way out, so the crew just embraces their situation and tries their best to not think about it too much.

- Catnap was the last and most unexpected to spawn in. From the time he opened his eyes to the new world around him, he had felt like something was off, like he didn’t belong there. While most of the others treated him nice, some of the crew were uneasy about his sudden appearance, seemingly years after the last of the previous arrivals had spawned in.

- Catnap begins to grow close to DogDay, almost becoming like his little brother. They spend the most time together, due to DDs kindness and warm welcoming energy towards him on his arrival! Also them both noticing they wore opposite necklaces, Cat being the moon and DD being the sun helped with that connection too!

- Kickin doesn’t really like or trust Catnap much, and doesn’t try to hide it, making snarky remarks and comments to clearly express his dislike for him.

- Catnap is super playful with the others, his best friends being Dog Day, Hoppy and Crafty! He tends to move like a ghost, the crew not usually noticing they are in his presence until they turn around! A lot of times, he hangs by his tail on the trees to say hello, or can be found in the fields laying in the grass and sleeping.

- Cat can sleep anywhere that is a surface, and is not wet.

- Every once and while, Cat swears he can see a skinny, metallic hand in the shadows, beckoning his attention. He’s tried to bring it up to the others, but they either think he’s acting weird, insane, or tell him not to worry about it.

———————

If you want to hear more, my asks are open!!! And I will be drawing them inbetween my Absolutely Chapters for Murder Drones, which I am STILL working on and Chapter 4 is coming out soon!! Promise, I didn’t forget, things have just been busy!!

ALSOOOOO New Murder Drones Comic for King Solver N coming this weekend 👀👀👀 Perhaps some angst or something fun?

[eempxth]

The Great War - Taylor Swift.

a bakugou katsuki x reader oneshot

angst/slight comfort at the end.

not proofread, 904 words

this is the first time im writing again! sorry guys DD:

The war was something everyone wanted to forget. The devastation, loss, grief, destruction, and desperation was something that was better off kept deep in the back of the mind. Many were still on the grueling process of moving on from the whole ordeal. You were one of them. As an empath, you deeply felt everyone’s emotions just from the looks on their faces. Their losses were your losses too. Looking at your classmates’ bruised and bleeding bodies, people who lost their loved ones, the damage it did to the country, you wished, with all your soul, that the war didn’t have to happen.

Your physical body was painful as well. It was hell. Feeling muscles you never knew torn, bones cracked or broken. Everything was sore.

It was all the same for Katsuki. He doesn’t remember the last time he had a proper night’s sleep in months. He kept getting flashbacks on what happened, how his injuries hurt, but didn’t hinder him from defeating all for one. How he was thankful that pro hero Edgeshot basically brought him back to life, how he heard that that damn Icyhot beat his brother, and you. How you were there with him every step of the way.

***

Class 1A was tense, and of course they were. Gearing up, they didn’t know whether they were going to survive or not. Due to shortage of heroes, mere students were forced to fight alongside the veterans, needing all the manpower they could get. They trusted the plan, of course. But alongside the doom, there was a spark of determination to win.

“Katsuki?”

A grunt came in response, a sign permitting you to continue.

“I vow, I will always be yours, if we survive this.”

His eyes widened, his cheeks turned slightly red, it was barely there, but his overall expression was unreadable. You turned away, scared he might turn you down for some reason. Almost taking a step to walk away, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist, a nose nuzzling the side of your neck.

“Fucking dumbass, saying shit like that. I will be all yours too. If we survive.”

Katsuki felt a faint giggle vibrating your body.

You, of course, were grouped with Katsuki and Izuku, tasked with tiring down Tomura Shigaraki. It went terribly wrong from the start, since Izuku wasn’t there, as he was meant to be. You felt it all throughout the fight, but whenever your muscles were tiring, your mentality fading, all you had to do was look at Katsuki.

You admired him ever since his character development started showing, and you made that pretty clear. He respected your strength as well, secretly grateful you were there with him.

But then he got injured. You pushed, overused your quirk, fought until you felt you would puke your organs out, felt your body would suddenly drop to the floor. Because he was doing the same thing. Your heart dropped seeing him fall on the floor. You sprinted towards him, dragged his body to a safe place until Izuku showed up. An attack made its way toward you, and you pushed Katsuki aside, and crimson red blood spewed out of you. His eyes widened, oh, you didn’t expect him to still be conscious.

After Edgeshot’s miracle, you both pushed your limit, your bodies almost moving on autopilot, with a mantra in your head. Defeat Shigaraki. Both of you slumped the ground eventually, with exhaustion and relief, as Izuku delivered the final blow.

Your body was calling, lulling you to sleep, as your vision wavered. Katsuki seemed to be experiencing the same thing, a decent distance from you. Using all your remaining strength, you forced your body, one last time, to crawl to him, touch him, hold his hand.

Once he realized what you were doing, he too, wanted to meet you in the middle. Both of you, crawling on the harsh, battered ground, desperate for the last piece of comfort and security. All the blood doesn’t matter. It was you. No one else.

Reaching for his hand, and him reaching for yours. That was all you remember before your vision blacked out.

**

At the back of UA, a memory garden was built. Columns of names on concrete walls were written, to remember the death, tragedy, and to remember the lives of these people. Heroes were given special mention. Walking around the garden, everything was silent. Not a word was spoken by either of you. Even if several months had already passed, the huge wound was yet to heal.

To your surprise, Katsuki was the first to break the silence.

“Oi.”

You whipped your head to face him, a tired, curious look on your face.

“Do you remember our promise?"

Confused, you ask. “What promise?”

“Agh, I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t fuckin remember. You were the one who started it.”

He went silent for a moment, as if thinking how to say it.

“I vowed, I would always be yours, if we survived the great war.”

He reached down to a bush, picked out a poppy, and placed it in your hair. His calloused fingertips so light, gentle, barely ghosting the surface of your head. A calm smile appeared on your face. A gentle grin appeared on his. You nodded, and echoed it.

“I vowed I will always be yours.”

[auspicioustidings]

Mermen au with mer TF141 and researcher reader trying to learn about their. . .biology :Dd Or them trying to bring progressively bigger fish trying to woo and then Ghost ends up bringing you a fucking orca or some shit,

...I had to look up the reproductive cycle of several marine animals for this I hope you are happy.

Deductive Reasoning

Words: 1.3k

CW: ...light fish porn (?)

It was just fascinating. It would have been dreadfully difficult to not talk about this every chance you got and thus break your NDA if not for the fact that you never left this secure little island base. You were permitted to, but why would you want to? You were speaking with living, breathing mermen almost everyday.

4 of them, although they had alluded to their being more out there. These 4 were a... well that was the question wasn't it? Only one shark did not make a shiver, only one seal did not make a herd, only one walrus did not make a rookery and only one mandarinfish did not make a shoal. Was there a collective term for mermen? You were told you were now the leading researcher in the world for this new species, so perhaps that meant you got to decide.

Or maybe you'd just ask. They spoke to you sometimes, or at least made noises. They seemed to understand each other at least which was intriguing on its own.

It had been Soap you had met first. You had been basically abducted and hurried to this island facility where they had captured a real life merman. You were enamoured immediately by the furious thing in the tank. Half seal, harbour seal you thought. Top half looked all but human (skin must be different to allow for underwater living and ah, yes, you could see gills), hair in a mohawk (which suggested someone had cut it to look like that, who? Was it a ritual? Did they have community? Was it an emulation of human culture? Perhaps some mating strategy?), eyes somewhere between human and seal (his physicality was a similar story, he was built strong and thick, a healthy layer of fat over hard muscle).

You perhaps felt a little bashful looking back. You had been so wildly excited, asking a thousand questions and going into chaotic science mode that it took you a whole 16 hours of straight observations and notes to realise there was a creature of higher intelligence being held captive in a tank. You did, of course, apologise profusely. He clearly did not understand what you were saying, but the emotion was human enough. Bemusement.

Soap had come about because he was slippery. Well, actually he wasn't, but the story was that he was slippery. Because if the military knew you had actually been helping him escape you were probably going to get disappeared. It was lucky the facility at that time wasn't as high security, you had gotten away with it.

You had met Gaz right there on the coast when Soap went slicing through the water. You thought looking back that Price and Ghost had probably been there, just out of sight. They had come for him. Gaz was a magnificent thing. His tail was the same pattern as a madarinfish, bright orange with gorgeous blue markings. You had shown him a tin of irn-bru once with a grin and learned then that Soap could laugh. He had come right up to you and after some form of exchange with Soap had been playful, showing off his tail and holding his hand out to you. You had been existing on caffeine and noodles so hardly your fault you took it, getting dragged into the water.

Oh how thrilling an education you received in the courting practices of Dragonets! He had made quite a show of displaying his fins, including a gorgeous dorsal fin on his human looking spine. You knew you simply must see them again if only to study why Gaz's eyes were more human while Soap's leant towards seal like. He was certainly the most expressive of them. His name had only come about because you had tried every other one and he made his disdain for them very clear. By the time the merman had been rubbing what you would call his ventral fins against you, Soap had grabbed you and soundly deposited you back on shore. Just in time too for the soldiers to find you because the doctor later told you that you were in the early stages of hypothermia. Totally worth it actually.

You talked the powers that be into allowing your pet projects to free roam, after all they kept coming back to see you. Over the course of a year the facility was upgraded and a channel added from the sea to an indoor pool that would allow for better study. Soap and Gaz didn't run on a schedule exactly, but they seemed content to swim in every so often and let you poke and prod. Fascinating that they should both be half human but their other half was so entirely different. Soap was half mammal, retractable penis something he was very proud to show off anytime he was in the observation pool. Gaz was half dragonet, and while you tried to put a clutch of eggs in the pool to see if he could fertilise them he had only raised an eyebrow at you and tried once again to pull you in. Tough luck, you had learned your lesson about going into the water with them when you had met Ghost.

It had been the middle of the night when he swam into the pool. Silent, you hadn't heard him (that's where that name had come from in the end). So unsuspecting were you that you were too near the edge and his hand had snaked around your ankle, one sharp pull dragging you in after you fell to the ground (hardly avoiding a broken nose). It wasn't only his tail that was shark, he had a sharp set of teeth that he sank into the meat of your shoulder without much ceremony. His claspers had been strong as hell holding you there, the only thing likely saving you his frustration at your clothes. He must not have understood the concept very well because he released you and dove, pawing at your trousers to try and figure them out. It was an endless source of fascination for him anytime he visited after. He would lean his arms on the pool edge and just stare at your legs, tracing the outline of your body with his sharp eyes. It only seemed fair to let him look since you spent an inordinate amount of time staring at him. He was sleek and muscular, every inch an apex predator in his prime.

It was a contrast to who you would say was the leader of their group. The merman who had saved you from Ghost that first time you met him, who had ripped him away from you when his teeth had sunk into the meat of your thigh through your trousers. Price had hauled you out of the water with ease. He was part Walrus, huge and soft with a layer of blubber similar to Soap's that hid considerable strength. Of all of them his animal half was most pronounced, his canines elongated into tusks and his hair thick and whisker-like around them.

As a scientist you could not possibly play favourites. Price was absolutely your favourite. He would be still and patient with you when you were working with him. He would gently run his fingers over whatever parts of you were in reach. When you babbled excitedly he seemed to listen as best he could.

If you had taken more than a moment to really look into it, you might have realised you were not the only creature conducting research. If you had used some deductive reasoning, you probably could have anticipated that fateful day you were dragged into the sea, never to be seen by the human military again.

[aris-ink]

more ddlg jk please im so obsessed

ily <3

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: manipulation, big corruption kink, dd/lg, hints of size and spit kink, lots of kissing, slight dub con, allusions to con noncon, intoxication, drugs (marijuanna), dirty talk, groping, bondage (ropes), praise, free use kink, loving humiliation (verbal), possessiveness, creampie, aftercare

Coming back from work, Jungkook found your sleepy form curled up on the bed, the nightlight setting a faint glow over the room. He crouched down on the floor and leaned in to kiss you, the affectionate greeting making your eyes flutter open. You tried to blink the drowsiness in them away, but it didn't seem to be quite working, and Jungkook felt his heart melt in his chest.

"Are you okay, princess?"

You breathed out slowly, your answer coming out mellow.

"I feel so weird, daddy."

He examined you with concern, the dull glaze of your eyes the first thing to catch his attention. Whatever he was about to say died in his throat, and he found himself stroking your cheek with his thumb. You looked so small like this; barely holding on to consciousness, gazing into his eyes with all the love and trust your precious heart had to offer. It stirred something in his soul, something primal and sinister, instantly triggering its protective instincts.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He coaxed gently, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. "Did you eat properly?"

"Dinner," you nodded, sighing, "and some snacks."

Your answer was just as expected, but the innocence of it further provoked that thing in the shadows of his mind, and a pierced eyebrow raised at you cluelessly.

"What snacks? We ran out last night, baby. I got you some on the way home today."

You frowned at that, confusion seeping into your expression.

"No, we... still had some left... they- they were in the shelf... in the kitchen."

"Oh baby..." Jungkook sighed then, and lowered his lips to your forehead. "There's a reason daddy keeps those hidden. You probably shouldn't have touched that."

For a split second, when your eyes raised to meet his, he thought you had realized what happened, what he did, and his heart reacted in tandem with his cock, jumping. But then your small hand moved to reach for him. You couldn't have been cuter if you tried. Even now, seeking his protection, whether it was the drugs muddling your brain; or just love.

Because hidden wasn't exactly the most accurate word here... not since a while, at least, but there was a sadistic need rising up in Jungkook to slip further into his role, murmur reassurances that would have made angels weep for you, had they ever existed and mourned for lost souls.

"It's okay. Just rest, baby... The feeling will pass soon. Just..." he brushed his nose against yours, "close your eyes and let go. Daddy will take care of you. Yeah?"

You followed his instructions flawlessly, letting your eyes fall shut, your body relaxing as he spoke. But your hand still squeezed at his bigger one, like you were nervous that he'd disappear. There didn't really seem to be many coherent thoughts left in that pretty, little head of yours. No wonder the weed hit you hard; it wasn't something you've tried before. You've always rejected any blunts Jungkook offered, trembling and stilling his hands when he whispered all the depraved things he knew would make your cunt leak as he touched you. Now, after the drug has entered your system - and in large amounts, too - you were left so... vulnerable, in every way. Helpless against the warmth flooding your senses, making your nerves tingle as Jungkook climbed on top of you. Helpless against him; his wicked hands soothing you, exploring your waist, their touch your only connection to your earthly existence in the warm, fuzzy haze pulling you under; stripping you off your inhibitions.

"Relax, sweetheart. Just like that."

There was a repressed desire lurking in the softness of his palms sneaking under your shirt. When his lips inched towards yours, something almost innocent laced the action; a soft peck, testing the waters. Too lightheaded to think straight, you let Jungkook do the thinking for you, because that was what daddy was there for, wasn't it? To catch you when you fall. To look after his little girl, kiss her and hold her. And he did just that, throbbing at the whine that slipped past your lips as soon as his touched your neck.

"Sensitive, angel?"

His hands explored your tummy, butterflies erupting while the rough pads of his fingers inched upwards. His voice was as soft as any devil's leading their prey astray, a seduction too great to resist with your guard lowered and brain muddled. Sweet, little thing, so putty in his hands; an adoring kiss warmed your cheek, followed by a sigh, a sound of feigned sympathy. Poor, little baby, so dazed under him; back arching softly when he began to rub your nipple, eliciting a gasp. Good thing daddy knew exactly what you needed. He was going to make it all better, he whispered. Daddy would never hurt you, he promised. And then he slid down your underwear.

He was sure that even with how high you were, his brain was running on the same kind of adrenaline, releasing endorphins, heart beating fast and blood rushing, his kisses sloppy and slow. Like he wanted to taste every inch of you, or rather, like he wanted to pour himself and his love into every nook and crevice of you, body and soul; a suspicion he made far too easy to confirm when he pulled away, dark gaze immediately drawn to the string of saliva connecting you for a second too long. It was enough for his thumb to reach upwards and rub the remains of the wetness into your bottom lip, hypnotized by how swollen and shiny it looked.

There was no other sound in the room besides the mingling of your labored breathing and the soft moans his touches encouraged, igniting a kind of fire within you that, had your mind and heart been sober, would have been considered humiliating. The willingness to be defiled, the trust that this was your caretaker just doing his job. And in a twisted way, he was. Fueling all the forbidden desires and needs you kept locked up, deemed too dark to ever leave the twilight zone of your soul. And once again, whose job was it if not Jungkook's to show his little one that not all dark things were frightful?

Floating, you briefly felt your arms being raised, cool air hitting your skin as he slipped your shirt off. The bed dipped then, and more kisses were lovingly left on your shoulders, the silky heat of his lips lazily trailing up to your neck. Time seemed to be passing by in a blur; you could feel Jungkook trapping your wrists above your head, slight shuffling coming from somewhere beside you.

Another kiss. More shuffling. You were disoriented up to the very moment you registered the fact that the noise stopped, and something was being wrapped around your hands.

No, not wrapped; tied. You whimpered, akin to a little fawn that realized it was ensnared.

Jungkook cooed at you, his lips brushing your collarbone, leaving your skin on fire.

"Such a good girl..."

He made his way down your stomach, presumably to continue to comfort you. Yet his deft fingers landed on your foot, the caress sending your heart jumping to your throat. Because even though it lasted only for a moment, you could hear more rustling, the final kiss landing on your ankle; right before the loving gesture was replaced with the lewd intentions he has had all along. His hands were gentle as they secured the knots, tying both of your ankles to the bed posts; leaving you spread open and defenseless, just the way he wanted.

Even without the restraints, even if your pussy wasn't dripping for him, it wasn't like you would have been able to fight back. Not after the edibles. And in the moment, not many things made sense besides the ache that built up inside you, the smell of Jungkook's skin, invading all your senses and making your thighs start to tremble. But one fact was pretty clear; you were nothing but a toy for him. He wasn't even bothered holding your legs open.

"All good?" He asked sweetly, his arms on either side of your head as he hovered above you again.

Your breath came out uneven, head spinning, but you nodded, lost in the darkness of his eyes staring into yours, giving into its entrancing depths, a bottomless pit that seemed to be asking: There, isn't this so much better? Doesn't it feel good to let daddy make the decisions for you? And he didn't need you to say a word, because your body provided all the answers, keening as you heard him undo his zipper. There was another layer of vulnerability attached to the fact that he was still fully dressed while your skin burned bare underneath him. Another layer of power Jungkook clearly relished in, if the way he twitched against you was anything to go by.

"You're so wet," it was a breathless statement, his eyes threatening to close when his heavy cock finally pressed in between your thighs. "So fucking wet."

Perhaps it was twisted, how lovingly he took advantage of you, degraded you, like you didn't quite belong to yourself; only to him. But your hole was clenching around nothing, trying to suck his cock right in any time he nudged the tip against it. And just like that, all the self control he had exercised so far was beginning to crumble. He could feel himself slipping, the words weighing on his tongue getting harder to hold back.

"So good for me... Just stay like this. Let daddy take care of you."

You moaned weakly, hips trying to seek more friction. Jungkook's cock twitched at that, spurting more precum in between the soft folds of your cunt. You were so divine. His little girl, his property, waiting to be used, craving it. And Jungkook could never deny you. This was all you've ever needed; to be stripped of your identity, no daunting responsibilities, no thoughts. All you had to do was lie there and take his cock like a good girl, your head fuzzy and cunt well fucked.

He rocked into you slowly, pushing an inch forward only to slide out again, the stretch combined with the pressure quickly making your stomach knot up. You didn't realize you were begging until you felt Jungkook's tongue over yours, his lips cutting off your soft whines.

"Fuck," he breathed out weakly, his hips arching into you off their own accord. "Doing so good for daddy." A kiss. "Gonna take care of you." A whisper. "Gonna give you all you need." A dip of his head, soft lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Little miss free use slut."

His tummy clenched at how sharply you inhaled, at the warm pulse beating around his cock as he sank deeper inside you. You were so tight, moaning into his ear, but too out of it to move, too out of it to do anything but feel the thrill of the pleasure he forced into your body. It was intoxicating, how perfect you were, all his to taint and love, his marks so deep no holy water could scrub them off your soul. He groaned, at this point running on pure instinct, fucking you harder as your cunt clenched around him, struggling to accommodate all of his girth and yet aching to be filled up with more. It was too much to handle; the combination of you, the rush of power, and the heavenly heat he was rutting into tipping him dangerously close to the edge.

"Yeah..." His voice came out as a needy, shaky whisper, an inked hand tightening around your breast. "Fuck." His forehead rested against yours, eyes hooded. "Feel good?"

A hiss escaped him when you clenched in response.

"Oh yeah? Little, slutty hole feels good?"

Jungkook's lips were on yours again before you could process it, muffling the loud moan you let out. You were already falling apart, and there were so many ways he wanted to ruin you and leave you shaking for more. All he could focus now on, though, was the vice grip of your wet, abused cunt, and the obscene sounds it made.

"Oh baby, you gonna come? Look what a pretty, little fucktoy I have here. Only good for one thing, hm?"

His hips stuttered at the shiver that ran through you. He gripped your jaw, the mattress protesting under the force of his thrusts. But the noise was nothing compared to the way you cried out for him, your walls spasming around his cock and drawing a loud, desperate moan out of his pretty mouth. Just like that, he followed you right over the edge, spilling his cum deep inside you, and shamelessly fucking it in even deeper. Eyes scrunched, he let his head rest in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"Ohh fuck-" His groan broke into a drawn out, raspy whimper. "Yeees."

He came so hard, white spots dancing behind his eyelids, unwilling to stop grinding until his knees felt weak. He tried to catch his breath, his head swimming. You were limp beneath him, your heart still pounding hard against his. Despite the dreamy exhaustion weighing down his bones, he lifted himself up to check up on you, press tender kisses into your lips.

"Are you okay, baby?"

A nod was all you could manage.

"Such a good girl. You did so well."

His fingers reached to work on untying the knots binding your wrists, his dick twitching at the sight of you before him. The spit still shining on your lips, the glow of your flushed skin, the cum dripping out of your sensitive hole. So blissed out, ruined and pretty. All his. But rather than acting on the shivers of arousal that still haven't died down, flowing through his body, Jungkook focused on sitting you up and getting you to the bathroom.

He sat you in a tub filled with warm water, then discarded his own clothes to join you. The snacks he bought you earlier were placed on a tray, within arm's reach. He held you against his chest, fed you a little. He knew you were tired; you needed rest, you needed time to sober up, because you couldn't keep your eyes opened nor move as he washed you.

He rested his wet cheek on the crown of your head, taking a moment to just feel you close, immerse himself in the warmth.

"Baby," he whispered, his arms tightening around your waist, though he wasn't sure if you were still conscious enough to hear or understand him. "What have you done to me? I love you so much all of my soul is gone."

Gone where? Lost in yours, perhaps, the only heaven that actually mattered.

A moment passed in silence, your breathing soft, until an almost incoherent whisper broke him out of his stupor.

"Love you too, daddy."

Jungkook glanced down at you, a fond smile lighting up his face. It was time to go to bed. Tomorrow, he was off work, and he couldn't wait to spend the day with you. Cooking, kissing, watching movies, then rolling a joint. He had a feeling you wouldn't resist this time; you tended to like the games Jungkook chose. He was good at it. He had to be; that was also a part of his job, wasn't it? Making sure playtime with daddy was fun.

And how could he ever do anything but his best for his little girl?

💌 taglist: @baalsgurl1913 @kooktrash @glowunderthemoon @era-genius @sweetempathprunetree @bucketofhiros @iceprincessviviane @imnotlauriane @silv3rswirls @httpsbts @osakis-gf

[generalsmemories]

HELLOOO FRIEND :DD I just wanted to say that i really like your stories :33 So, can i request a Jing Yuan x reader where they meet in the past? Like Jing Yuan just accidenly bummed into Reader while walking/shopping?

Sorry if it doesn't make sense Also can i be a Hachimi Anon?

A voice unheard

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: If you're given the chance to meet someone you thought you wouldn't meet again, what would you tell them?

✧ contents: fluff, hurt/comfort, sort of an open ending, idk what to even call their relationship, almost lovers to strangers?? mentions of other characters, namely: trailblazer (gn) and herta | word count: 2.3k (i don't know how.)

✧ a/n: i do admit i pondered a bit on this. it may not be what you had hoped but i hope it was still to your liking! also you can of course be hachimi anon so welcome welcome! also this idea popped up after listening to jjk's season 2 opening "ao no sumika" just as a lil fun fact if ya want some more suffering

✧ note: this drabble is mostly written through Jing Yuan's pov, so the sentences written in italics are jing yuan's thoughts!

"Do you have any regrets, general?" Jing Yuan blinked in surprise, the usual smile he sports on his lips slipping a tiny bit before directing his gaze down towards the trailblazer who curiously looked up at him, patiently waiting for an answer, "Why the sudden interest?" he asks instead.

He doesn't get an answer immediately, but he can tell that the trailblazer before him is witholding some information with how their eyes dart back and forth instead of facing him directly. When they peek once again over to Jing Yuan and sees that he's still staring down at them, they let out a sigh before looking ahead once again, "There's this one member of the Genius Society..." they start. which makes Jing Yuan more confused than before.

"... Do I assume that this member of the Genius Society wants to use me as some sort of guinea pig?" he asks outright, the trailblazer once again losing any ounce of confidence they had just gathered to say that one sentence, turning around while scrambling for words, "I did offer that I could do it again! I mean I already do her Simulated Universe testing, but when I offered she just stared at me with such a dead look! And then she told me I would have nothing to give her because I don't have enough memories-"

Oh, so that's what it's about.

The proposal seemed intriguing enough, "Why not? It would make for quite an enjoyable day, seeing that there's not a lot to do today. What do you need to know? I would have to make you aware I'm not able to leave the Luofu in it's entirety, so making the trip to this members abode would not be feasible at this time," Jing Yuan huffs out with a laugh, the trailblazer merely shaking their head, "No, she gave me one of her puppets to bring with me on the express if she ever wanted to do some testing."

"... Gave you one of her puppets?"

"It's a long story, general. But she is already waiting for you by the express, if you would have the time to make the trip to Cloudford for a few hours at most?"

Which is how Jing Yuan finds himself strapped to a bunch of wires and holding a peculiar looking helmet with even more wires attatched on the outside. Glancing towards the side, he can see a smaller person beside the trailblazer, her obvious ball-joints fully on display - he assumes that this person was the rather... "Eccentric" Genius Society member the trailblazer was referring to.

"... So you're the general of the Luofu, I had assumed you would be far older appearance wise," Jing Yuan merely gives her a cheeky grin and a tilt of his head, "Anyway, I wanted to see if I could perfectly replicate a certain memory that's buried deep down within your brain with just a few important keypoints from the recipient within the Simulated Universe. Of course we could've had a broader scope if the trailblazer had just dragged you to my space station, but alas," she says, gesturing for Jing Yuan to put on the helmet before nodding towards the bed, "We're only limited to one particular strong memory. So general, what's your biggest regret?"

"Ms. Herta, I would have a lot of memories being that I've lived for this long, no?"

"Which is why I'm telling you to think of one of your biggest ones, every human has tons of regrets - you just happen to have way more than the average which makes you a perfect candidate."

His attempt on making a lighthearted joke was quickly shot down. However now that he's being forced to think over all the people he's had to let go of during his life, he finds himself in quite a pickle.

But somehow, there's still one foggy memory that yet seems so clear to him.

"... There's one individual who I would want to talk to again. If I remember correctly, the day I met them again after centuries apart was nothing more than half a day at most. But I wasn't aware that meeting would also be the last day," he starts, about to continue before Herta raises her hand to stop him.

"That's plenty already. I'm now going to transfer your consciousness to small pocket reality where that exact memory happened. You just do whatever you want once you're in there - any data is data after all."

The artifical sun seems somehow brighter than it usually is when Jing Yuan opens his eyes again. When he finally gathers himself and starts to look around he realizes that he finds himself at Starwatcher Avenue overlooking the street from a higher spot - the familiar yells of street vendors and laughter of passing families or merchants clear in his ears.

Everything seemed so real that it was quite honestly terrifying.

The people greeting him with a smile or a bow when he descended down towards the street, the Cloud Knight giving him a salute and even to the finches landing on his shoulder or head.

If he hadn't known any better, he would've genuinely thought that he was for once experiencing quite a pleasant dream where the Luofu wasn't dealing with the problem of a stellaron.

"Does the newly appointed general really have time to laze around the Avenue like this?" he immediately stiffens up upon hearing that voice. A voice he was sure he had already forgotten what truly sounded like , but yet when he heard it again he knew he would never be able to forget such a lovely voice.

If he didn't knew any better, he would've thought that fate was toying with him by giving him such a nice start only to crush him completely.

"... Jing Yuan?" you call out once again, a bit more nervously since the general before you didn't even turn around to address you.

Ah, if I remember correctly I did immediately turn around when they first called out.

So he takes a deep breath, holds it in for a few seconds before he lets it out and turns around. And the moment he does he's awestruck.

How in the world was Ms. Herta able to recreate your whole appearance to such a degree? Granted she probably took the little information he had provided and done something, but to be able to fabricate your apperance, behaviour and manner of speech in such a short time?

Jing Yuan doesn't know what he should be feeling.

"I thought a busy ranger like yourselves would be far too occupied to take the time to talk to a general, but here you are as well," he jokes back, hoping that you can't tell that his smile is a bit more wobbly than usual.

He forgot how captivating you looked back then.

"Please, I have time to sit down and chat with an old friend, don't I?" you joke, gesturing him closer to you as you sat down at one of the many cafés the Avenue has to offer, "And I bet you also have time seeing that you took upon the offer to sit down and have a few drinks," you added on with a gleeful smile.

He also forgot how easy it was for you to make him feel at ease - even after centuries apart.

[And exactly what part of this memory is your biggest regret, general? It seems like you're having the time of your life here.]

A sudden textbox appearing right before his eyes made Jing Yuan's eyes widen, the general blinking owlishly at it in amazement. Your own eyebrows raise at his rather surprised face, tilting your head with a frown, "You're acting unusually weird today, is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes. I might've had too much work lately for a proper nap," he lies effortlessely - a trait he found that he would habitually do centuries later.

[Oh, don't worry, you can just answer. I'll just make them forget that you answer me the moment you do.]

Jing Yuan sighs, "I mentioned that this would be the last time I would meet them, right? They're a part of the galaxy rangers. We've drifted apart when I got appointed general and they found a chance to join shortly after. If I remember, this would be the first time and last time in over a decade we meet again."

[... Ahh, I see now.]

He's sure that Herta understood what that meant, being that she was part of the same society as the alleged perpretator.

So Jing Yuan decides to omit the details on how much closer the two of you actually were. The night late banters while overlooking the same avenue you were currently seated in, the countless sparring matches that always "coincidentally" ended with either one of you on top of the other in a fit of laughter (Ignoring the fact that his arms are 90% of the time wrapped around you in a vice grip during these moments).

He excludes the joyous moments you had spent with him and his other close friends. How your fingers twirled around his longer strands and bringing them to your lips with a smile, or when you lightly squeezed back when he entertwined your hands together when the two of you decided to slip out of a rather large gathering after a succesful expedition.

He omits the fact that you're both currently wearing (and in his case still wearing till this day) the accessories the two of you had previously gifted each other. He can faintly see the necklace you have tucked beneath your shirt, and he's aware that your gaze is on the tassel he has attatched to one of his belts.

It was the last time he would see you after all. And yet, even with this knowledge he has now - he still finds himself doing the same mistake he did all those centuries ago.

He's still quiet. He's still dead silent even when he knows what kind of fate awaits you when you rise up from that chair before him and continue your initial plan for the day.

You let out a quiet laugh, perhaps mistaking his quietness as awkwardness as you start to stand up in your chair, "I can't take more of the generals' time with my selfish request, so I should probably go and gather what I was originally supposed to get," you inform whilst rising from your chair. Meanwhile Jing Yuan was rooted in his spot, looking down at his teacup without answering you. He's aware that your gaze is on him.

And yet he doesn't dare to look up to make eye contact, just like back then when this was all not a simulation. Instead choosing to swivel the contens inside the cup he was gripping.

He pauses in his movements, blinking as realization slowly dawns down on him.

That's right, this is a simulation. What has happened has already happened, I can't change that.

"Ms. Herta. If I were to do something else than what I had originally done, how much of the response back would be genuine?" he whispers lowly, he can tell that you're starting to move away.

"... Well, it was nice meeting you again, Jing Yuan."

[90%. This is all a code, yes. But I can assure you that whatever response they give you now would mimic exactly what they would've initially responded happened back then if were you to say what you're about to say instead.]

Jing Yuan didn't know he could add more to this regret than what had already transpired. But there it was, a new regret on this memory served to him on a silver platter.

"... Wait, [Name]," he calls out as he gets up from the chair, the screech it makes against the pavement being loud enough for you to turn around to face him with wide eyes.

And he's stunned. In the past, he had stayed rooted in his place and thus not even seen your back as you walked away from him. He knew your voice was a bit wobbly back then, but now he's properly staring at you and taking in more of your appearance. Your reddened eyes and slightly agape mouth, slightly swollen from how you most likely bit them to reduce any noise.

He finds himself suddenly unable to let his voice out.

"... If we were to not meet again at all after this," he finally utters after a while, trying his best to ignore the urge to get closer to you. Instead he sucks in a deep breath before giving you the same easy-going smile he's gotten used to wearing at all times. The starting sentence makes you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, turning your body fully to properly face him while awaiting his next words, "... What would you do?" he asks in the end, staring as your eyes go from a widened state to gazing at him softly.

"I would tell that I loved you," you answer immediately.

Now it's Jing Yuan's eyes to widen.

"And then I would cease to exist sometime in the future without being able to see you again, the end," you add whilst turning around again so your back was facing him.

"Was that a joke?"

"...Unfortunately not."

You still don't turn around, but you're rooted in your spot for a few minutes - as if giving him a chance to do something, anything.

And it's at this moment that Jing Yuan comes to the realization that he's no good with emotions. He knows he's opening his mouth, but he's also aware that they keep closing too. The words die at the tip of his tongue, and his eyes are still staring at your back as you start to move further away from him.

He comes back to his senses far too late, only able to walk a few steps while reaching out a hand, "We'll meet again, right...?" he cries out, although he's fully aware you can no longer hear him.

[Well I got what I wanted. Jing Yuan I'll bring you back now.]

Jing Yuan can feel his consciousness getting dragged away from the simulated scene before he can answer. But just before his vision completely blackens, he can see you turn around while raising your arms up, seemingly waving at him - he can make out your smile as you open your mouth.

"Goodbye."

[traumxrei-archive]

【 don't be afraid to get close 】

prompt #1: He had them against the wall but now he can’t stop looking at their mouth… (ft. jamil viper + riddle rosehearts)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 737 words

a/n: i said i'd delete requests, but i figured out that writing them out as hcs was a lot faster aND more fun for me. so. the rest of my 600 followers event fics will be in hc format >:DD had lots of fun writing for mr rosehearts and mr viper, so enjoy

Riddle Rosehearts

The one thing that peeved Riddle more than anything was when a uniform was worn incorrectly. So when he saw you walking around the halls with a loosened tie of all things, he knew he had to intervene.

"Prefect?" You looked at him with a slight smile. "Could you come with me for a minute?" You followed him easily to a more secluded part of the hallway, where Riddle could finally grab at your very loose tie.

"Prefect, as i've emphasized, it is important to keep your appearance as neat as possible," Riddle lectured as he continued to tie the knot. "It not only helps with cleanliness, but also with confide–"

Riddle's gaze flitted up. Big mistake.

He tried not to flinch at the proximity of your face to his. He was definitely not paying attention to the curve of your cheek or the part of your lips. Sevens, your lips looked so soft, he wondered if–

He dropped the tie like he was burned

You raised an eyebrow, "Is this how the great Heartslabyul housewarden ties a tie?"

And Riddle went red. He was sure he was flushing down the base of his neck, but he couldn't get his mouth to work.

"Senpai," There was a hand at his arm, tugging while you innocently tilted your head. "Did you get distracted by something?"

Great Queen of Hearts, Riddle was not going to make it out of here alive.

"O-of course not," Riddle forced out, his voice coming out unnaturally high. "I was merely just...we were standing very close together...."

He shut his mouth, intent on salvaging whatever petty pride he still had left. He then grabbed the tie with shaky hands, working at it once again as if he didn't just flush his rapport with you down the drain just seconds before.

Once the tie was done, Riddle sighed with relief, smoothing the material before letting it go.

"Thanks senpai," You said, before leaning in close and– Riddle shut his eyes, a light pressure landing on his cheek. He opened his eyes to see you smiling as you waved, heading to class as if nothing happened.

Riddle, on the other hand, crouched on the ground. He would never be able to get the flush out of his cheeks.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had a love-hate relationship with rain. but today he was bordering on the "hate" side. He was completely drenched, caught off guard by the rain as he quickly ducked into an alcove, tugging you behind him.

He cursed, pulling out two towels from his gym bag, "It's clean." At your questioning look he elaborated, "I bring two because Floyd always tries to steal mine."

Jamil draped the towel over your head, helping you dry your hair out of habit. He was secretly pleased as you let him do as he wanted.

However, he didn't realize how intimate of a situation he had created for himself until he felt you reaching over with the towel in your hand to help him.

That was when Jamil's gaze slid to the wall that he had backed you into, before dropping down to your lips.

Oh.

Jamil averted his eyes, trying hard to school his expression into neutrality. He picked up his pace, swiping at the water with renewed vigor until—

"Jamil?" A small silence. "Hm?" His reply came late, too busy focusing on a droplet of water as it traced down your face, wishing it was his fingers instead.

"You...look like you want a kiss."

Jamil swallowed, throat dry because he had been completely exposed. How was it that you were able to know his feelings so easily?

He saw the nervousness flit across your expression at the prolonged silence, so he let himself speak, "And...what if i do?"

You tugged at the towel around his neck, pulling him that much closer. His lips met yours clumsily, the cold of the rain fleeing for something warmer. He couldn't help but hold you closer, bridging the gap to feel the slide of your skin against his.

As he pulled back, Jamil wasn't sure what was louder, the sound of the rain pelting the roofs, or the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

"Was that okay?" You asked tentatively, and Jamil all but wanted to laugh.

Instead he smirked, letting his cold fingers press against the warmth of your cheek, "i think i'll need a few more of those to warm up, ya sukar."

thank you for reading this far ^^ if you'd like to see the rest of the 600 followers event, find it here, and if you want to see more of my writing, go check out my masterlist <3 (p.s. to the people asking, 'ya sukar' means 'my sugar' >:D)

[randomfoggytiger]

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (Founder's Mutation), Part II

This is gonna be quick and dirty because my keyboard’s acting up--

IT’S A CONTINUATION FROM MY STRUGGLE I?????????? NO WHY NO, PLEASE NO. 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

WHY do those glasses not fit anymore?? If Mulder lifts his eyebrows, they don’t even touch his cheekbones. But they were fine last episode, what happened. 

Mulder reminding us about William in yet another opening monologue. I may have the memory of a goldfish, Mulder, but I don’t have brain damage. 

I’m already so tired. 

Narration, narration, sudden voice change and drop, “Bringing Scully and I back together”-- okay, that’s straight-up David's voice. 

Oh, good. A bloody eyeball. How marvelous. 

If this is the brain Morse Code episode, I will throw hands. 

I’m Dr. Sanjay. We’re both too tired. 

WHAT’S WITH THE SHAKY CAM AS DR. SANJAY DETERIORATES. 

I’m not gonna be nit-picky… okay, I am. 

The X-Files has a certain style, aesthetically. Because of that, one has to operate inside the rules in order to cleverly bend them. Shaky cam AND close-up break two rules back-to-back.

This "modernization" isn’t a limbered stretch so much as a spinal dislocation. 

Ghost in the Machine and Blood 2.0, I see. But worse. 

The “Sanjay losing control” scene is… not too different from similar 90s ones.

But that’s the problem-- the visuals have updated, but not the method. And that leaves us with the impression that the director or screenwriter or both are either amateur or outdated. 

It’s also incredibly cluttered and confusing. Not confusing in a way that would expertly translate the meltdown in Sanjay’s brain, but confusing in a way that bombards us, the audience, with compounding “lost in translation” errors. 

Okay, welp, he’s dead. 

WHY do Mulder and Scully sound so old? Was it absolutely necessary to suck the life force out of the actors every time they walked on set? For Pete’s sake, I’ve heard more life in David’s voice while reading a Lexus ad. 

Okay, DD’s picking up a bit, and GA’s compensating with her expressions but none of this is engaging. 

Minor nitpick-- and I know both actors complained about wardrobe later-- but the second Mulder gets pants that fit him and Scully remembers to finish buttoning up her top, the sooner I’ll get a glimpse of the old show. Just sayin’. 

His pants will eventually swing to the opposite tragedy, copping a feel while forcing him to do a little Marilyn Monroe shimmy.

I shall call them Patriarchy Pants.

Scully knows Indian?

She really is the series’ language OC, isn’t she. 

Mulder got this informant to trust him by flashing his puppy eyes. I mean… it’s always worked on Scully. 

Speaking of which… where’s Scully? 

I’m wracking my brain, but I thiiiiiiiiiiink it’s consistent, even pre-S9 canon, for Mulder to sneak off and fill Scully in later. So, no complaints. I think. 

What is it about the comedy scene that didn’t work…? 

Hm. 

‘Kay, so, if this guy (Gupta, looked it up) is no longer a repressed homosexual-- like he chastises Mulder for being-- then why was he so skittish in the bar? 

He didn’t know Sanjay was dead, so therefore he didn’t know he was in danger (note from the future: he isn't in danger... which explains his skittishness even less.)

So, is his jumpiness because of repressed or hidden homosexuality? But he says he's out and urges Mulder to come out, as well.

Perhaps he's saying one thing and living another, i.e. pretending to be out and proud to save face in front of Mulder.

But then... that would be the comedy in this scene-- that he would have to eat his words (ex. another guy opens the door on them and Gupta makes a big fuss trying to cover up the homosexuality of it all-- “no homo” dialed up to 11, etc.) 

So, he was either scared to be on a hit list-- yet wasn’t aware he might be on one-- or scared of being outed-- yet didn't signal this in his actions or dialogue.

If this is Gupta’s only scene, it was a waste.

It was a waste of an introduction, regardless. But.  

Oh, Scully’s doing an autopsy, got it. 

Characters are playing by their strengths, got it. 

Also, forgot to note, Mulder sensing the guys in the bar were bad news points to his years spent on the job. A great touch.

…Unless, now that I think of it, Gupta invited him to a gay or hookup bar, consequently making Mulder look like an out-of-touch old buffoon. Which… fits his characterization in My Struggle I, but I hope for better things. 

I didn’t see any tension in Scully’s arms while pulling the instrument out of Sanjay’s ear, but, ya know, there weren’t perfect moments in OG canon, either. 

Gupta’s still here, okay. (DD getting away with a bit of humor by having Mulder act slightly out-of-place chuggin down in a bar-- I see you.) 

IT IS A GAY BAR. 

MULDER’S AN IDIOT, CONFIRMED. 

“He lived two lives.” Okay, that’s f-- “In two separate places.” NO, no, nonono-- get back over the unsubtle line before I whip out the broom, shooshooshooshooshoo.

Wait, why is Mulder explaining the autopsy results instead of Scully?

Even when he had a… siiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. 

Even when Mulder had a brewing theory in mind, he always let Scully explain all her results before asking pointed questions, hearing her findings, then craft a theory and run it by her.

Here, Scully says, “Broke fingers to find words on palm/instrument went into these parts of the brain” and Mulder says “It went in at that angle then turned at this angle/insert theory.”

When it SHOULD be: Scully explains fingers and cause of death, Mulder points at the pics and asks why the instrument’s angle changed, Scully says “it went in 90 degree angle then turned 60 degrees”, and Mulder concludes “Like he was hunting for something.” 

The shots widen out or cut back for shock value, it seems. Sanjay’s body is shown obliquely until Scully says she “looked everywhere” for clues, which prompts the camera to cut to a wide shot and hang on his sawed-open skull. The timing’s oddly comedic, the music is light, and nothing about the scene meshes. It quickly pancakes, leaving us and the characters with dead (heh) air.

The dialogue leans “we’re gonna do this next” telling rather than natural conversation showing. 

And-- I’ve gotta be frank-- I’ve not caught an ounce of chemistry from DD and GA aside from the scene where they were talk about phone stealing and Indian languages. 

The car scene contributed nothing... except a kid accidentally fell over the hood. Reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal covert set-up, I tell ya. 

Sanjay’s other apartment scene was… weird. They walk around, find pictures of experiments on kids, barely react, trip the silent alarm so the police show up--

Sorry, no, wait. The police show up ASAP, in THIS part of town? NAH. Not happening. 

Okay, the scene where Mulder has a… brain… thingy WORKS because it uses just the right amount of “new trick”: closeups without disorienting lens action slapped on top. THAT’s how you integrate a modernized technique into an older show; and it fits seamlessly into The X-Files. 

SO WHY DIDN’T THEY DO THIS FROM THE GET-GO?

Also, Scully may have had cancer, but she never had migraines. Those seem to be reserved for Mulder. 

Oh, we’re in Skinner’s office now. I guess. 

The clips are so poorly paced, switching or holding or integrating at the weirdest times. It even undercuts Mulder’s quips or Scully’s reactions. 

On a side note, DD and GA probably had a hard time finding their characters-- as they mentioned for both IWTB and the Revival-- because all they had to work off of was plot regurgitation. ....What do you do with that? 

I love the touch of Skinner playing hardball until Corporate Interest Guy leaves, then immediately switching to, “I assume you’re going to need [classified] copies, right?” 

…

…..

…….

Scully really doesn’t have much to add, does she? 

OH, we’re in the basement now. We're just... here. The first scene of these two back down here and they're just. Here. ...'Kay.

Mulder and Scully talking over his experience is the closest I’ve gotten to mature MSR… and it’s ruined by Scully stating the obvious, “There were no sounds. I didn’t hear anything.”

LOOK, OKAY? Mulder became CATATONIC before with these exact same symptoms and was only saved by a secret science mumbo jumbo brain surgery, WHY ISN’T SHE WORRIED. It’s equivalent to her getting a nosebleed and just wiping it away, no big deal. 

“Mulder, what are you hiding?”

He’s not hiding anything, Scully, he’s telling you. 

But if he were, that’d be outta character even for Beanpole Sneakybritches. By this point, he’d have a functioning theory to share with the class-- which he did, lest we forget-- or developed a taste for Hercule Poirot drama while holed up in depressed isolation, I guess. (Which you left him to, Scully, so this is your fault, tangentially.)

Which would be stupid. 

 (Note from the future: He was hiding something, but it didn't make sense how he leaped to that conclusion, anyway; so, logically, he has nothing to hide from her in this scene.)

But when's that stopped the show before?

“What are you hiding?” 

“Sanjay heard sounds right before he died. It could be you, Mulder.”

WHAT. 

Scully and Mulder established in the lab that Sanjay heard noises right before he died. 

Mulder heard noises. 

Tells Scully in the basement. 

Scully: “I didn’t hear noises.” No reaction. 

Scully: “What are you hiding?”

Mulder explains his frequency theory.

Scully doesn’t see how it fits. 

Mulder: “What are you hiding?” 

Scully: “Sanjay heard sounds right before he died. It could be you, Mulder.” No reaction. 

PLEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE END MY SUFFERING.

16 min. in. 

Been typing nearly an hour (a dying keyboard’ll do it to ya.) 

“This is dangerous,” Scully says, flatly. 

“When has that ever stopped us?” Mulder asks, brightly. 

He is quite literally trying to pump life back into her-- WHO directed GA this way? You can tell which scenes she is given freer reign in (more natural, less muted) and which ones she is more tightly “guided” (less alive, more dead.) 

How is she spry enough to be a field agent? How is Mulder? Skinner hasn’t aged a day but these two have been MOWED. DOWN. DD and GA aren’t like this in real life, so what gives? 

Our Lady of Sorrows, go away. 

It’s Karen Kosseff except it isn’t. 

Mulder and Scully sneakily scare the daylights outta a Conservative-adjacent medical personnel with the dreaded threat of an “Obamacare” witchhunt... and at this point, the social commentary seems performative rather than intelligent. 

I’m not gonna break it down by politics; but suffice to say, while Mulder and Scully were never above a little “campaign of misinformation”, but they've never stooped low enough to fearmonger-- in fact, they looked down on those who did. 

CC-- he wrote this episode, too, right?-- turned them from FBI agents with ethics into Secret Agents with a dose of Krycekian immorality. 

Just when I think I’ve “found” MSR, the writing snatches them back from me.

…And ANOTHER THING. 

Ever since IWTB, Our Lady of Sorrows has been an awful, horrible, no-good, close-minded facility stuffed to the brim with egos and bottom-of-the-barrel intelligence. At least they’ve been upgraded from “let the kid die” psychopaths to “OBAMACARE?? INVESTIGATING OUR SAINTED, CONSERVATIVE COLLEAGUE????” Which makes them stupidly impressionable and stupendously ignorant of the law. Which they would know… because it affects their hospital. 

There’s no hint (thus far) that Scully has some dirt on them and maneuvers them into compliance by hinting at certain shortcuts they wouldn’t want investigated. No. Instead, she weaponizes their faith-- calling the guy they want to interview a “godsend”-- despite sharing it, and despite taking all matters of belief very seriously; then lets Mulder slip in the Obamacare line because… Conservative medical professionals would cow in the face of that implication instead of, I don’t know, stonewalling to protect their ranks? 

It’s such a silly, nonsensical line. 

I just want old Mulder and Scully back, is that too much to ask for?

And the lady almost stonewalled, anyway. It was pure luck that Scully pulled the right emotional strings. 

UGH. 

“I’ll agree to relay a message,” Not-Karen says… then walks off before asking what that message would be. …Sure, fine, that makes sense. 

Pregnant teen or young woman and….

And….

WHAT, IS THIS A CONTINUED PLOT POINT???????????

ANOTHER PREGNANCY PLOTLINE?????????? DO THE POWERS-THAT-BE NO LONGER HAVE ACCESS TO TUBES OR JARS OR WHATHAVEYOU TO GROW THEIR EXPERIMENTS, OR DID THEY ALL COPYPASTE THE EVES' AND DR. PARENTI’S VERY SPECIFIC NICHE?????

Hate the camera angles, too, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh. 

Used and abused women, dismissed young mothers, callous Catholic hospitals…. It’s so… vitriolic. And all so poorly handled. 

“Desire is the devil’s pitchfork,” oh, great, the Catholic nun? lady is eeeeeeeeeeevil, who would have knooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooown--     

WHY. DOES. MULDER. SOUND. SO. OLD. 

No wonder DD and GA think the series isn’t really about happy endings, they were shuffling around like geriatric Eeyores half the time. 

Scully pushing back against Mulder protecting her from the incubation theory right after he tells her the incubation theory: in a word, disjointed. She needed to confront him BEFORE he spells it out to her-- 

…My brain melted and I lost the thought…. Wait…. Nope, it’s gone. 

“Is this what you believe happened to me, fifteen years ago? When I got pregnant, when I had my baby?” WWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAT. 

“Mybaby”??????????? After all this time, MY BABY. 

WHY ISN’T GA ACTING APPROPRIATELY, SHE’S GIVING US NOTHING DESPITE BEING THE SOLE EMOTIVE PERSON ON THIS TEAM. 

IF THAT LINE IS MEANT TO IMPLY SHE’S CREATING DISTANCE WITH “MY BABY” BECAUSE SHE THINKS MULDER IS DISOWNING WILLIAM, YOU’VE NOT ESTABLISHED, AT ALL, THAT RETICENCE IS PART OF HER SELF-PRESERVATION-- NOT ONE TIME, SINCE THE REVIVAL STARTED. 

AND IF THAT WERE THE CASE, SCULLY WOULD HAVE ACCUSED HIM DIFFERENTLY: NOT FLAT AND TIRED, BUT FLAT AND ANGRY. WHERE’S SCULLY’S ANGER THAT SHE’S HAD FROM DAY ONE, THAT SHE LOST RIGHT AFTER EXISTENCE SAID HAPPILY-EVER-AFTER????????

GIVE ME GUMPTION, GIVE ME SPIT, GIVE ME FIRE, GIVE ME RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION!!!!

SO THEY ABANDONED THE INCUBATOR TALK TO TALK ABOUT HER REGRETS, I GUESS. 

THERE WAS NO POINT A TO POINT B, WE’RE JUST HERE NOW.

I don’t mind the rehash-- Mulder and Scully both had a habit of doing that, back in the day… but I’m not getting any of MULDER or SCULLY from these two… Revival robots. 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, this is the “what could have been” episode. Thanks, I’m gonna hate it. 

“Do you think he could have been an experiment?”

“I don’t know,” GET OUTTA HERE, ACTUALLY GET OUTTA HERE. 

MULDER’S WHOLE ARC IN ESSENCE-EXISTENCE WAS THAT HE KNEW THE MATH ADDED UP TO BEING WILLIAM’S FATHER (though the writers did their best to obfuscate that issue) BUT WAS AFRAID SCULLY’S BABY WOULD BE BORN WITH SURPRISES. INSTEAD, HE WAS A NORMAL, HEALTHY BABY; AND MULDER CALLED HIS SON A MIRACLE BECAUSE OF IT.

BEFORE SEASON 9 RETCONNED IT, ANYWAY. BUT EVEN THEN, WILLIAM WAS UNDENIABLY HIS MINI MULDER.

Even in IWTB, how many years later, Mulder still considered William theirs. 

Also, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait. 

Pause. 

Rewind. 

Stop. 

Mulder misses William but had to put that “behind him.” 

That. has got to be. The most. antithetical statement to Mulder’s character that I have ever. Ever. heard. 

You can’t have it both ways, CC: Mulder can’t be pushed by the ghosts of his past into wrecking his and Scully’s relationship, twice (IWTB and the Revival), while also putting HIS CHILD behind him. 

nnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOnonononononNONONONONONONO.

THAT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. THAT MAKES NO SENSE. 

YOU’RE A LIAR, A LYING LIAR LIAR FACE. 

THAT’S NOT MULDER. 

MULDER WOULD NEVER SAY THAT. 

SCULLY MIGHT, BUT EVEN THEN SHE’D STILL BE LYING TO HERSELF. 

Scully was shattered into a million pieces in My Struggle I, and Mulder is obliterated in this one. 

How. 

Absolutely. 

Lovely. 

Also, again, Scully isn’t emoting fear or terror for her son. At all. 

NORMAL SCULLY VOICE??????????????????????????????????

NORMAL. SCULLY. VOICE????????????????????????????????????????

WHAT. 

I’M, I’M, WHAT. 

FOR THE FLASHBACKS, BUT NOT FOR THE SERIES????????????????????????

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. 

The cutback from the flashback-dreamsequence-whatever to Scully just… sitting there. Not napping. Not dreaming, just. Thinking, I guess. 

But the sequence was obviously a dream, so. 

Can you imagine if she snapped upright from her dream, possibly at her desk? The gifs sets that could have been made mirroring this moment to Mulder’s nightmare in Paper Hearts. 

THERE’S THE SAME “OPEN THE DESK DRAWER TO SEE A PHOTO” MOTIF, TOO. 

...WHY IS THAT ASSISTANT WALKING LIKE SHE'S ON A CATWALK?

That actress said, “This is my big shot, I’m gonna stick out” (literally), and dressed to kill. 

…Or she’s a piece of commentary on the Evil Scientist Doctor and the male gaze, or something. 

Guys, no facility would have kids kept behind glass cages for their entire lifespan. 

That’s dumb. 

Scully tells the scientist he’s testing (trying to isolate) for alien DNA. He shows them out. 

Agnes (the teen or young mother) got killed and her baby taken, of course. 

At least Scully’s no longer pretending medical people aren’t stealing babies or creating mutants, I guess. 

I GUESS. 

Mulder had to wiggle his way over to the printer because his Patriarchy Pants (first sighting!) are too tight. (Told you his fashion swings in the opposite direction.) 

Mulder said, “This is my skinny jean era”, and I think I’m traumatized. 

Syndicate wanted to colonize the world with alien-human hybrids, says Mulder. And though it was unsuccessful--

(HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT)

--he doubts they stopped trying. 

So, that sweeps away the Supersoldiers, I guess. 

Since, y’know, the Revival said the aliens were never involved to begin with. 

So it was just the government making a hoax of the government hiding aliens but pretending they weren’t but really were but weren’t. 

Got it. 

What did Scully’s study about all European men being traced back to three individuals in the Bronze age (that’s a reference to Shem, Ham, and Japheth, isn’t it CC?) have to do with Mulder’s point other than for her to talk about her study. 

An illustrative hypothetical:

Mulder: “Everyone loves juice.” 

Scully: “I read a paper last year that found the three most favored juice flavors tie back to the Whirligig tastebud genome.” 

…’Kay.

I HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES LEFT, LET IT EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEND. 

Jackie (Evil Scientist Man's “insane” wife) doesn’t like cats and threw an apple at it. …Why’s there a loose cat in the “mental asylum”?

They put in the spooky track from the original show-- the tinkling symbol sound-- when she recounted her daughter breathing underwater, but I liked that bit. 

Good filming, good bit. 

Jackie was being used for experiments, crashed her car, was forced via the brain thingy to cut her child out, the end. 

…Oh, right, this plot was supposed to be about Sanjay. 

My bad. 

You forgot, too, didn’t you. 

…Why doesn’t Jackie like cats again? 

(Note from the future: Jackie feared her biological daughter because she had supernatural abilities; and ran away hoping to save her son from the same experimentation and fate. ...But her son? (or her daughter?) already had powers and forced her to cut him out??? by manipulating her brain????????? to find his way back to his sister??????????????? Even though he was a baby??????????????????? (She still doesn't know this and wishes she could see him again...????????????????????????????????????????)

This is such a BAD. SCRIPT. 

It has no direction, it swings wildly from topic to topic, nothing really connects together, it’s all… nonsensical garbage. 

Mulder gets closeted at a gay bar, the Catholic lady hates men and thinks unwed mothers are damaged, women are made to cut babies out of their stomachs, Mulder put William behind him, Scully has a waking dream instead of a sleeping one, aaaaaaaaaaaaand… Jackie hates cats. 

No, you will not get a logical explanation for any of this. 

Awwww, look, Jackie’s talking about her missing boy because she thinks about him “every day” but hasn’t seen him since and so does Scully, of course, and Mulder can sense that so he, looks, too, and this case will make him cling to William’s memory again and--

One word. Riverdale. 

“All my training-- everything that I know about psychology--” WHAT. Scully, you’re a medical doctor, not a psychologist. Definitely not a psychiatrist. 

So Mulder can read x-rays with medical accuracy, and Scully can read Indian and diagnose someone’s psychological state. 

Great.  

Just peachy. 

By the way, if you’re wondering why Mulder keeps getting bumped into or keeps peripherally noticing janitorial staff at each location, here’s your payoff (NO, IT WASN’T HAMFISTED, YOU JUST DIDN’T NOTICE THAT THIS WAS A PLOT POINT AT ALL, IT'S SO CLEVER):

The janitors work for a larger company that also services the hospitals. And Sanjay’s company. 

….Eh? Eh? Clever isn’t it??

NOITISN’T. 

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, so the kids are dying and inadvertently killing… off… their… parent? Or something? Or the reverse?

(Note from the future: Jackie feared her biological daughter because she had supernatural abilities; and ran away hoping to save her son from the same experimentation and fate. ...But her son?-- or her daughter?-- already had powers and forced her to cut him out??? by manipulating her brain????????? to find his way back to his sister??????????????? Even though he was a baby??????????????????? And she still doesn't know this, hoping to see him again someday...????????????????????????????????????????

THAT DOESN'T EXPLAIN WHY THE TEEN/YOUNG WOMAN WAS ALSO FORCED TO CUT HER BABY OUT AFTER BEING HIT BY A CAR, per the baby's instructions. Because that's what the episode says happens.

DO THESE ALIEN BABIES HAVE SOMETHING AGAINST VEHICULAR MANSLAUGHTER OR WHAT????)

Guys, this is dumb. 

Mulder’s stupid sunglasses. 

But he looks goofy overall, so I’ll CHOOSE to be endeared rather than angry or petulant.  

(IchoosethisIchoosethisIchoosethisIchoosethis--)

Wait, why does Mulder keep getting affected by the brain thing?

More importantly. 

The episode is setting up a few, blatant parallels:

These parents are having brain problems.

Their kids are experimentation kids.

William's probably an experimentation kid.

Which is stupid, but would then prove Mulder is the biological father.

They will sacrifice this parallel to the plot but also because Scully, not Mulder, ends up being the one to communicate constantly with William.

Which would prove William-Jackson is still Scully's biologically.

(Note from the future: This complete theory is debunked in about two seconds; but will be recycled later for Scully's Morse Code seizure. Wonderful.)

It’s all. 

So. 

Stupid.

Stupid sunglasses. 

I…

I died laughing. 

Guys. 

I’m gonna include a clip because it’s so goofy. 

Context: Mulder’s brain thingy is acting up, so Scully has to run around to find a kid-- Kyle-- so he’ll… help? her partner. Hence, we have Gillian trying to keep up her Revival smoker voice whilst running off and shouting, “KYyyYYyyyyYYLLllelleleee”:

This is The X-Files. 

Weep and gnash your teeth in torment. 

This is old. 

Sorry, Mulder’s ears should be busted by now. Gimme fic where he now has to use hearing aids.  

They grabbed Kyle and stuffed him in the car. 

Ahh, this is the scene where Mulder looks back at Kyle and someone mentioned it looks like Mulder looking back at William in another, better universe (post here.) 

Okay, so, this kid doesn’t mean to hurt people by communicating with his mind, buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut was or wasn’t responsible for Sanjay’s death (who was helping him.)

Scully decides “LET’S PRETEND TO HAND HIM OVER TO HIS EVIL SCIENTIST DAD IN ORDER TO FIND HIS SISTER” and that sound and reasonable. As reasonable as a starving pig at a pie fair. 

Wait.

The kid was a janitor.

Sanjay was helping him.

Sanjay was working for Evil Scientist dude.

Sanjay was trying to figure out where the kid's sister was, or he knew where she was but wasn't telling the kid?

The kid-- Kyle-- accidentally killed Sanjay because his... powers were outta control?

And... the kid can connect with different people's minds and that's how he hacked Mulder's brain (which retracts my biological theory... until, again, Scully's Morse Code seizure reinforces it.)

But the kid attacked Mulder when Mulder and Scully questioned his mom... didn't he already know who Mulder was?

And the kid kept pressuring Sanjay to find his sister, so much so that Sanjay hadn't been able to sleep well or function in weeks?

So, this kid's... questionable, at best.

Evil Scientist, M.D., pretended to introduce the kid to his sister, but Kyle wasn't BAMBOOZLED nor FOOLED. 

Oh, btw, this kid is Jackie’s son. Looks an awful lot like William-Jackson... but anyway. (Jackson's storyline is brazenly ripped off from CC's own material, wow-- right down to the "never saw my son again" line. The writers have charming things to say about adopted families in The X-Files.)

Now he’s running around the hospital looking for Molly (the sister who scared Jackie because she can breathe underwater, etc. etc.)

Reunited with Molly.

Now the kids are throwing the adults with their minds and killing Evil Scientist Badman with the brain thing in order to stay reunited, I guess. Like the Eves. (Another rip-off recycle of their own source material.)

SO, anyway, the Evil Scientist Father died a very gruesome death. 

Cut to the place swarmed with FBI. 

Another guy said, “Skinner, keep your sfjfkfsdfksj behind the red tape.” I think. Can’t understand him. 

Guys, this is the first Mulder-and-Scully posturing I’ve seen since the series began. Praise be, they’re not mannequins. 

Here's the Mulder and William "could have been"s.  

See, guys? His faith is back. He’s choosing to remember his son and reengage with his past~. 

Yeah, and where did THAT come from. 

To recap:

Mulder had depression sometime after 2012, so bad that it made Scully… leave, I guess (which would have been a death sentence for someone with a temperament like Mulder’s.) 

But he shouldn't have had depression after 2012 because 2012 just reset the Colonization clock (according to he, himself, and his theory.)  

So, he’s got "no reason" depression, then disconnects from Conspiracies and shoves away memories of William. 

But he hadn’t had a breakdown or disconnect from reality before My Struggle I (which made Scully’s decision to leave even stupider.) 

And Scully worries he’ll have a breakdown in My Struggle I. 

And he actually didn’t leave Conspiracyville despite also leaving it and knowing things he shouldn’t and not knowing things he should. 

Following?

Conspiracy guy calls up Skinner who calls up Scully who calls up Mulder; and he and she don't hesitate to investigate despite putting “that life” behind them. 

There were no aliens, period, only men in government wearing suits or planting false memories or whathaveyou. 

He’s still got depression but doesn’t, actually, in My Struggle I despite Scully thinking he does and worrying he’ll have a breakdown despite knowing he left Conspiracyville but not coming home, etc. etc.

Both are let into the FBI.

Still following? 

He put William behind him but engages in conspiracies now (despite still engaging in them while not engaging in them-- you get it.) 

Let me reiterate: Mulder. put someone that he loved. behind him. 

Mulder makes peace with the thought that William’s his son regardless and daydreams about movies and rocketships. 

And that’s that on all his hangups, I guess. His crops are watered and his depression is cured. 

And now he and Scully are installed at the FBI... despite the unlikelihood either of them would pass the physical tests, let alone the training they'd need to requalify. To put them on the field otherwise would be very, very dangerous... right, Skinner?

The End. 

Just make this easier for me next time and beat a bat over my head. 

I do have another nitpick. 

Mulder is too downcast in his “happier times” flashbacks, especially compared to Scully’s buoyant, sweet, upbeat persona. So, basically, he has a stunning lack of imagination, I guess. 

Which, jokes aside, is an interesting thought: Mulder creating realities in his mind so convincingly mapped onto his current one that it’s even more devastating to snap out of them and face each and every unsatisfying day.

Also, both he and Scully have the same sort of nightmare....

This had BETTER be Jackson’s way of reaching out to them for help, or so help me I’m going to label these moments as narrative clickbait. 

EYYYYYY, we got an actual Mulder “NO!” It sounded like him, too! FINALLY! SPIRIT! SPUNK! THE MULDER ESSENCE. 

Oh, yeah, that William can get yeeted-- he doesn’t fit my headcanon, anyway. 

Mulder's sitting upright, too, without having woken from a nightmare.

…So this was a deliberate choice on the filmmakers’ part. 

So this is setting up for something. Like William communicating to them BOTH in waking dreams. 

We all know that won’t happen, but, anyway. 

CONCLUSION

YOU’RE NOT GETTING ME WITH THE HAPPY FAMILY TIMES, YOU MANIPULATORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

YOU CAN’T TAKE ME ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE. 

Also: very rarely do I like movie kitchens, but Mulder's... it's alright.

Lastly: again, I am so tired. 

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!