#but i have saved your posts in my drafts to reblog when i’m in a better headspace ^^;; so bye again for now lolz

[silkjade]

tbh i only ever feel comfortable here in short bursts

[arminsumi]

I COULD DO THIS FOR HOURS

G. Satoru — さとる ⋅ fem reader

🔞 mdni / mdnr / smut / n.sfw / 18+ content

NOTE: i took a 3 am thirst draft and made it a fucking fic wtf 🥴 i'm so dizzy over this one idk why i usually don't drool for my own smut but god damn this one is special to me. ik i post a lot about gojo atm and it's because i love him no apologies 👍

SUMMARY — making a cheeky comment leads to a long, steamy session in the bedroom with your husband, who's got a point to prove.

WARNINGS — nasty smut 🤤, rough sex, namecalling/nicknames (b*tch, good girl, baby, dirty girl, sweetheart), he's kinda mean, hubby gojo, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, messy/sweaty sex, daddy kink, p*ssy kiss (1), long session (3h), overstim, dirty talk (teasing, sweet, mean), incl. aftercare, lmk if i have missed smth thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.3k

PLAYME — daddy

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

Your husband didn’t like that cheeky comment you made about his stamina and how fast he cums. He thought you were being pretty hypocritical, considering the fact that you cum sometimes solely because of lazy clit thumbing and shallow strokes.

“ Baby, careful what you say to me. “ he smiled at you in the kitchen, serenely washing the dishes after dinner. “ You know damn well that I could go for hours straight with no breaks. The only reason I don’t do that is because you’re too weak to handle it. ” he boasted confidently.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him. That scepticism pissed him off so much that he stopped cleaning the dishes and violently threw the towel down. Your giggles rung sweetly in his ear while he scooped you off your feet and tossed you over his broad shoulder, strong build carrying you to the bedroom like he was on a mission.

He threw you down on the bed with the same force that he threw the towel down with, his hands quickly finding his phone and setting a stopwatch.

You were already giggling apologies, but he wasn’t listening. He tossed his phone onto the bed and dented the mattress with his weight as he climbed on top of you, feverish kisses nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“ I’m sorryh – mmf – ‘toruh – didn’t meanh ih – I’m sorryyy. ”

“ Save your sorries and spread your legs. Gonna have to be a little rough with you, angel. But you like that, huh ? Yeah ? Like it when daddy’s rough ? Mhm, I know. Probably like it when I’m pissed off like this, too.

You smiled. “ Yeahhh, I love it. ”

He smirked. “ Dirty girl. ”

Folding you in half and sinking his cock inside you, it felt like he was your enemy for a second with how he beat up your gummy walls with his mean cock; you were giggling and squirming about his playful roughness in the beginning, but now? You’re screaming, going dumb and limp. It makes him chuckle.

“ Fuck, baby, just look at you. ” he cooed, “ . . . just cumming over and over on this dick like a dumb bitch. I told you that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, didn’t I ? Uh-huh. I fucking told you so. Keep it together, it’s only been twenty minutes. Haha . . . and you were the one talking shit about my stamina ? Come on, apologize to me. Good girl. Tell daddy how sorry you are – haha, you cummin’? Yeah, ‘can feel your pussy fuckin’ pulsing ‘round me – fuck that’s good. You like it when I’m mean, don’t you ? ”

“ Y-yesss ! Love it love it s'much Sa—to—ruuuh ! ” you panted frantically, body jiggling like jelly with each harsh thrust.

“ So cute and dumb. ” he cooed tenderly, as if he wasn’t rearranging your guts and breaking the bed.

“ Feel that, sweetheart ? Feel me sweating ? I know you like it when I’m this close, ‘like it when you can feel the sweat drip off my abs ‘n rub against your tummy ? Yeah, I know. Damn dirty bitch. Nah-uh, eyes on me. ‘S only been an hour don’t zone out on me. ”

Really, the concept of time flew out of your head when you were laying there taking him.

You’re shaking, gummy walls and sweet spots being beat up by your husband’s mean, yummy cock. The pressure inside you builds and builds until it snaps, and you scream his name in such a high pitch that it almost makes his ears ring. He laughs a little, watching as you writhe, trapped under his beefy body. He relishes in the feeling of your pussy pulsing as you cum, it brings him close, too. Before you know it, he’s pumping his cream deep inside, pounding into you like he’s trying to ruin your pussy and reshape it to fit only his cock.

“ Fuckin’ takin’ it so well, angel. Now ‘gimme another round. Get on your tummy – there we go, aw your legs are numb ? I don’t care. It’s only been an hour. You can hold on longer than that, can’t you ? ”

From the back, he fucks you so sensually and deeply that the two of you sweat sweat sweat it up. He insistently bundles up with you under the covers to make it extra toasty. The smell of sex is hot and pungent in your lungs, and inhaling yours and his arousal and scent of cum drives him crazy. Bodies wet and slippery, he’s made a sloppy mess of you before but not quite like this; his cheeks dampen, his hair sticks to his forehead; there’s little rivulets of sweat running down the center line of his abs, following along his v-line. There’s an ache in your thighs, you’re getting overstimulated but it’s so good. And listening to his ragged, heavy breathing behind you just brings on another orgasm.

“ Fuck, baby, ‘wish you could see yourself from this angle. ” he groans erotically, brows finally knitting together tightly as he loses composure and succumbs to his own sensitivity. “ Oh, angel, just cum. Don’t hold it in – cum cum cum yeahhh there we go – that’s my fucking girl. Cumming so pretty on this dick. You’re so fucking beautiful, ‘m gonna cum too. Sh-shit look at all that frothing up, feel that ? ‘so gooey and nasty. Hahhh-ahah I’m cumin’ – cumminggg ~ ”

You can practically hear the hearts in his voice when he cums, vocals straining and rasping against the nape of your neck. He lets out this one last primal sound before pumping you full of another load of thick creamy cum. You can feel him pulsing and twitching. He presses his weight onto your back a little too much, you can feel the tones of his sweaty torso and how wet and hot his body is.

“ Haha . . . fuck . . . ” he runs a hand through his hair, smiling down at the pretty mess on his dick. “ Baby, you did so good for me. You okay ? Did I go too hard ? ” he asks tenderly, nuzzling the back of your neck, just listening to your shaky breaths as you come down from your high.

“ I can’t feel my legs. ” you swallow, dazed smile on your face. “ So good . . . ”

“ Aw, sorry, angel. I’ve got you, come here. Ooh – where’s my – phone – let’s see how long you endured me for. ”

“ Felt like . . . forever . . . ”

He chuckled under his breath at that and leaned off the bed, reaching for his phone that had fallen right off the edge when he was making the bed violently shake earlier.

“ Ooh ! Baby, we’ve got a new record. Three hours. ”

“ Oh my god, no wonder I can barely fucking move . . . you’re a menace. ”

He smiles cheekily, “ Wanna make it four ? ”

“ Are you crazy ?! ”

“ Yes, of course. Don’t you love me for it ? ” he coos in a sultry voice, coming to press a loving kiss to your damp cheek.

You feel his weight lift off the bed, you tiredly peek at where he’s going and – of course, like the sweet husband he is, he’s getting you a towel. You can hear his exhausted huffs of breath. There’s cream running down your slit, some smeared across your pussy and frothed up.

He comes back into the room, smiling admiringly at your sleepy body. You’re sinking into the pillows, too tired to think.

“ ‘toru . . . ”

“ Angel ? ” he hums in response, slowly starting to clean you up from the thighs up. You feel his big hands massaging the numbness out of your legs.

“ I love you. ”

He smirks and presses a kiss to your pussy from the back, making you giggle. “ Love you too, my girl. No one makes me feel better than you do. Come here. Haha, are your legs still numb ? Should I massage them more ? M'kay, sweet girl. ”

The silence is sweet and long. He's massaging your body, feeling over you like you're his little masterpiece, his little angel.

Then he breaks the silence.

“ Told you so. ” he smiles victoriously.

You groan. “ Shut up. I was just teasing when I said you had shit stamina ! ”

“ I know, but I still hated that you said it and felt the need to prove a point. ”

You snuggle into his chest, making his heart flutter like he's a boy with a crush again.

“ Yeah yeah, point proven. ”

“ Aaand what's the point ? Tell me, I wanna hear it. ” he teases.

“ You can go on for hours. ”

He smiles to himself. “ Damn right I can. Glad my good girl learned her lesson. ”

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[sjyuns]

WAY BACK HOME ┆ A SIM JAEYUN ONESHOT

BREAKING NEWS! the friendly neighbourhood superhero spider-man has been caught trying to swing into a girl’s heart — but why is he failing miserably?! is this the spider-man we all know and love? or has our hero lost his spark?

or in which sim jaeyun asks you, his best friend out, forgetting that he was still in his spider-man suit.

GENRE! best friends to lovers, mutual pining, extremely groundbreaking embarrassing pick up lines, my missed hit at being a comdeian, jaeyun being jaeyun ( ie a hot loser ),

CAUTION! idiots in love, two timing ( but they’re the same person ), kissing, love, mentions of weapons and fighting crime, bad pickup lines, embarrassment for sim jaeyun, both reader and jaeyun are nineteen in this fic

WORDCOUNT! 5100

MIKAELA’S! hey everyone, this is the first ever oneshot i’m posting on my shiny new blog! please feel free to leave feedback through reblogs or asks! hope you enjoy jake embarrassing the soul out of himself🫶 i love sim jaeyun so much ( too much it’s embarrassing tbh ) this is the last of my old drafts, sorry for the spam!

playlist ⟡ way back home — shaun ⟡ forever only — jaehyun ⟡ pov — ariana grande ⟡ daylight — taylor swift

i. with great power comes a platter of hot embarrassment

“With great power comes great responsibility,” is what Spider-Man once said in an interview with The Daily Times, the most widely read newspaper company in all of Seoul.

It’s so out of character of Sim Jaeyun that he himself wonders what exactly went through his mind at that given time to blurt out such a philosophical quote — especially when he was having the bad urge to take a piss at that very moment.

But whatever it was: he needs it to return now, because he’s standing in front of you, his best friend, and he thinks that now's the chance; to finally ask you out after saving you.

Unfortunately Sim Jaeyun is out of luck, like he always is with you, because nothing but five utterly embarrassing words come out of his mouth.

“You tingle my spidey senses.”

You choke back a laugh as you stare at the masked superhero, amused at his sudden pick-me-up. “Are you rizzing me up, mister friendly neighbourhood hero?”

It seems like too much thinking has altered the already broken thought process in Sim Jaeyun’s brain, because it is only now that he registers that he’s still in his Spider-Man suit, and you don’t have a single clue that he’s Spider-Man.

“Uh, I mean-” but he’s cut off by the roaring cheer of the gathered public, who have their phones out and recording.

“Don’t back down, Spider-Man,” a citizen calls out, and Jaeyun thinks it’s far too late to back out now, because not only will it crush his ego, you might think Spider-Man isn’t as cool as he seemed to be.

“Would you let me swing into your heart- I mean, could we” he pauses, “could we hang out sometime?”

You smile, and it makes Jaeyun frown slightly under his mask, because he knows that smile — it’s the polite one, the one you use in a slightly uncomfortable situation, as if you didn’t want to embarrass the popular superhero standing in front of you at the moment.

“Sure,” you grin, pearly whites on display, “could I bring my best friend Jaeyun though? He’s a big fan.” It’s him, he thinks, he’s the Jaeyun you’re talking about. And his heart skips a beat at your thoughtful action.

“Okay! Tomorrow, here, five in the evening,” he says in excitement without a second thought. You’ve just agreed to go out on a date with him, and he’s too drunk in love to think about how he’s going to meet you as Spider-Man without telling you his identity.

He shoots a web up and swings after shouting an elated “see you, yn,” in the air. All too caught up in you to realise the three critical mistakes he’d made.

ONE. He never asked for your name as Spider-Man

TWO. There’s no way he could ever go on a date with his suit on in public

THREE. How in the fucking world is he going to a date with you as both Spider-Man and Sim Jaeyun?

Sim Jaeyun spends the whole night twisting and turning in his bed, mind in a flurry as he tries to think of the smartest way to solve these problems.

And it doesn’t help him when his phone pings with a new message from you.

Guess who just bagged us a hang out with Spider-Man tomorrow!

Don’t wear that Spider-Man suit or I swear to god I will not bring you to see him.

He sighs as he presses hard on the power button of his phone, staring blanking at the black screen. Fuck power or responsibility, he thinks, all he wants is his best friend’s heart, is that too much to ask for?

ii. man up, spidey-boy!

“BREAKING NEWS! Spider-Man spotted trying to swing into a girl’s — who supposedly goes by the name yn, heart. And after failing miserably at the first try, he succeeded on the second. Spidey may be a hero who saves lives, but it seems like he might have to take up what youngster’s call ‘rizz’ classes.”

The wide billboard screen casts a video taken by a bystander as the announcer's voice blared into the main junction of the city.

Jaeyun groans as he hangs his head low, adjusting the baseball cap perched on top of his head to cover his face. Not like anyone knew he was Spider-Man, no, but it was just far too embarrassing for him.

He hears you before he sees you, your voice is illegally sweet as it causes a smile to appear on his face amidst all of the stress. “Jaeyun!” You call, “you’re unusually late,” and Jaeyun groans, blaming it on the lack of sleep he had gotten last night, “Spider-Man isn’t here yet.”

Right, Spider-Man. Jaeyun still hasn’t found a solution to that.

His suit is tucked safely in the bottom of his bag, just in case. But for now, Jaeyun thinks it’s a better decision to disappoint you as Spider-Man instead of as your best friend. Besides, he hasn’t missed a single hang out session with you, and he isn’t ever planning to.

“Do you think he’s actually going to come?” You ask, head tilting in question and eyes soft, and Jaeyun wonders if he actually underestimated how much you liked Spider-Man, misunderstood that seemingly polite smile you gave him yesterday — should he have came as Spider-Man instead?

“Uhm,” he pauses, hesitant to squash your expectations, “how about we go first? I’m sure Spider-Man will swing by, it seems like he likes you a lot.” And even though he was talking about himself, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy bubbling in him at the thought of another boy liking you.

“Right,” you say, giving him a smile that makes his heart melt, “I guess it’s just us, like it always is.” Your fingers wrap around his, “I like it like this.” You mutter softly, yet in the buzz of the city square, Jaeyun catches the whisper of your voice, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“Plus, if I ever need, you can be my Spider-Man — whip out that fake suit of yours. You have his physique anyway, and your pick up lines are just as idiotic as his. Maybe even more idiotic.”

Jaeyun lets out a loud laugh, one that’s of melodious dreams, and it causes a few pedestrians to stare but he doesn’t care, not when you’re next to him, asking him to be your very own Spider-Man. And he agrees immediately, all too ready to put on the ‘fake’ red and blue suit just for you.

He’s a little amused that you still believe that he’s a hardcore fan of Spider-Man, because the only time you’ve caught him wearing that very suit was two years ago, when you coincidentally entered his room to see him in a Spider-Man suit without a mask.

And he still remembers your accusations of him being a fanboy, asking him if dressing up as his idol was what he did in his free time. Jaeyun was way too flustered to even explain himself, and letting you know that he was the real Spider-Man never even crossed his mind as he bashfully nodded to your words.

But it wasn’t like you ever laughed at him about it, though you did tease him. You would still buy him different types of Spider-Man merchandise, ranging from Spider-Man socks to a custom Spider-Man mug with the words ‘Spider-Man loves Jaeyun’ in bold red.

With every gift given, came an opportunity to reveal his identity. Yet Sim Jaeyun never seizes it, he refuses to, because he finds it so endearing — the way you have the proudest smile on your face as you give him merchandise of himself that he has never seen before, the way you send him a picture of every single Spider-Man related thing you see on the streets.

“Right,” he nods as he gazes adoringly at you, “forget the real Spider-Man, I’ll swing into your heart.” And the giggle you let out once again makes his knees weak — he thinks the smile plastered on your face is much more genuine than the one he saw yesterday.

And he wants to kiss you so bad, tell you exactly how much he likes you, loves you. This familiar feeling that has settled comfortably at the bottom of his heart and back of his mind for the past four years, has only grown and never dwindled. It was times like this, where he didn’t feel the burden of having to be alert about ongoing crime.

Only with you can he feel like Sim Jaeyun — a lovesick nineteen year old and not Spider-Man, the hero of Seoul.

“Jaeyun, what do you want to do first?” You ask, pulling him through the blaring fun of the amusement park. He hums, following behind your excited figure, letting you choose what you wanted to do. “Oh my god, look it’s a Spider-Man toy.”

You halt in your step and immediately turn towards him, eyes sparkling. “Do you want it Jaeyun? I’ll get it for you. Just so you aren’t too sad that Spider-Man ghosted us today.”

He scoffs, as he examines the booth. It’s a shooting game, and he knows that you suck at shooting. “You sure, love? From what I remember, you aren’t too good at shooting games,” he brings up and you shoot him a sharp glare before pestering him to pay the vendor.

You end up blaming your best friend for jinxing you, “Yun, if you never said that, I could have shot them all down,” you complain, eyes morphing into slits as you pinpoint the blame on him. Jaeyun raises his two hands in innocence, face displaying an expression of shock, “I didn’t even say anything wrong, plus you barely hit one out of five balloons.”

You groan, shushing him in embarrassment, “If you’re such a professional, win it for me then,” you challenge him. Jaeyun shrugs, it’ll be easy — all those years of shooting webs has made him extremely sharp, so he manages to shoot all the five balloons without any effort, snagging the coveted Spider-Man doll.

“You sure you don’t want it, Yun?” you question, “add it to your collection as a fanboy.” He shakes his head, handing you the plush toy, “I won it for you. Plus, I like the ones you gave me more.”

It overwhelms you, the stark sincerity in his voice. And you feel the sudden need to kiss him, not like you’ve never thought of it before (more like you’ve thought about it too much), because Sim Jaeyun with his bright personality and handsome face is far too good to be real.

But you can’t bring yourself to be that direct, so you settle for a kiss on the cheek. A quick movement and a short peck before you let out a loud giggle, walking over to the next booth with a stupid smile plastered on your face, leaving Jaeyun in shock and awe — eyes wide and mouth agape before he bites back a smile.

He thinks it’s too hard to conceal his feelings any longer; that he has to tell you soon, next week, tomorrow, or maybe even now. And he feels the three words, eight letters, at the tip of his tongue.

As always, though, he swallows them back down, throat dry as he stares at you. The fear of rejection far too intense for him to handle.

How ironic, that Sim Jaeyun could fight criminals with equipped daggers that could kill him in one swift motion, yet he could not say three simple words to a girl who has pierced his heart and filled his stomach with butterflies.

iii. in a sticky predicament

“Now on to our very own Spider-Man’s upcoming love story that seems to be wilting by the looks of it — Spidey, in fact, did not show up to his date with yn, who was seen with another boy at the amusement park. Our very own hero is facing multiple accusations that he may be, like his representative colour, a red flag. However, a minority of fans have brought up a speculation; that the boy we call Spider-Man, might be the very boy accompanying yn yesterday unmasked. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Don’t you think that’s insane Jaeyun?” you laugh, throwing your head back into the soft pillow on his bed, “they think you’re Spider-Man.”

“Right,” he trails on, arms crossed as he leans on the doorframe, “that’s so impossible.”

His laugh awkward as his fingers find themselves combing through his hair for the nth time. And you turn your head, looking at him with suspicion. Right, that’d be crazy, insane maybe, you think, because Sim Jaeyun was well — him. He’s slightly awkward, likes physics, and hell he’s scared of bugs, so it’ll be mind blowing if he ever was the real Spider-Man.

But impossible, you think, might not be true. And you sit up on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on him. Same physique, similar height, he’s athletic, and he shoots well. Plus, from your ever so short encounter with Spider-Man saving you from getting your wallet stolen, Spider-Man is just as awkward as your best friend.

Could he really be Spider-Man? But he’s a fan of Spider-Man, wouldn’t it be weird if he was such a big fan of himself. Still, you couldn’t rule out the possibility.

“Jump,” you instruct, “hang upside down on the walls.” Jake is shocked, as his heart accelerates in nervousness at the thought of being found out.

“Don’t be weird,” he groans, trying to keep calm, “that’s literally humanly impossible.” His mind racing, finding a way to get out of this sticky situation, because as much as he wants to tell you his identity, the last way he wanted you to find out was through the internet. Also, maybe because you looked slightly angry, with your eyebrows furrowed and hands on your head, and Jaeyun didn’t want you to be mad at him.

You were deep in thought, was that why Spider-Man didn’t show up yesterday — because he is actually Sim Jaeyun, and he couldn’t be there as two different people.

That might be a stretch, but it isn’t an impossible scenario. You tilt your head, quickly grabbing the pillow you were just lying on, throwing it at him, “catch.”

He catches it easily, with one hand even, as his face contorts into an expression of surprise. “Don’t scare me like that, love,” he says. But you’re too flabbergasted at the fast reflexes of your best friend to even comprehend his complaint.

“You could really give Spider-Man a run for his money, you know?” you chuckle, as you tell yourself that no matter how much it might fit, it’s probably just a coincidence, “put on that suit of yours and fight crime.” It was all a coincidence, right?

“What if I’m scared of getting hurt,” he pouts, and you snort. With Sim Jaeyun’s level of cowardice, there’s no way he could ever be out there fighting.

“Then I’ll protect you,” you say, “I’ll be your sidekick, all you have to do is stand there and look pretty.”

He grins, walking over to stand in front of you; hands moving to ruffle your hair. “Okay love, you lead, I’ll follow.”

iv. tell him to grow a pair

Your newfound popularity brings you more drawbacks than benefits — by that you mean the sudden fury of boys approaching you to ask for your number. It annoys Jaeyun more than it does you, as your best friend flaunts a new irritated look that you’ve rarely seen.

“That’s the sixth fucking boy,” he grumbles, eyes rolling before he glares at the fleeting figure of Lee Heeseung, the boy who just asked you for your number, the boy who Jaeyun lashed out at.

“Be kind, Yun,” you chuckle, amused at your best friend’s sudden grumpiness, “I mean, I’ve never lashed out at any of the girl’s who ask you out.”

“No one has asked me out.” he groans, “are you flaunting right now?”

“Yes I am,” you reply, “don’t worry Jaeyun, you’ll always be my loser.”

He lets out a loud exaggerated sigh as he rolls his eyes, leaning against the locker as he grits his teeth in exasperation.

You wonder why no girl has ever hit Sim Jaeyun up. Granted, he wasn’t the best looking guy back in middle school with his choice of brightly coloured clothes that blinded eyes, but you think that was part of the appeal — how awkwardly adorable he was. Now, with his upgraded fashion style and bubbly personality, it’s a miracle no one has tried their shot at bagging him. Not that you wanted anyone to.

Sim Jaeyun is yours, just as much as you are his.

And he thinks the exact same. Despite what you think, he has had a girl approach him, professing his love only to get turned down by his puppy-like smile and his confession that he liked you.

Though his body exudes jealousy, there's a slight bit of relief at the fact that you turned all six of the boys down, telling them that you had a crush on someone else. He hopes, prays, begs that the person you think about is him. He furiously looks for a sign, because he’s tired of all this, and he needs a sign from you before he can courageously make the first move.

After school, the both of you walk down the buzzing streets with carts of street food lined up along the roadside. Your fingers bunching the fabric of Jaeyun’s shirt as he navigates the both of you through the crowded streets, making a beeline for his favourite churros shop.

“I told you the queue would be long, it’s Friday night,” you whine, mentally counting the number of people in front of you. Fifteen, that’ll take a while. “We should have just ordered in pizza and binge on Netflix shows.”

“Fine, we can eat churros another day,” Jaeyun pouts and you curse yourself for saying that even when you knew he wanted to eat churros.

“It’s fine, we can stay, since we’re already here.” You stop him, pulling him back beside you in the queue, “but you can’t leave to do something else like last time, you have to wait with me.”

The glow on his face coupled with the adorable smile on his lips makes you stare in awe. And you think Sim Jaeyun is so pretty and handsome all at once it’s a crime to look as good as him. His lips, god, they look so kissable and soft, you wish you could kiss them at any given time — now, tomorrow, forever.

But the moment doesn’t last long, as faint screams and shouts travel from a small corner shop down the road. “Thief, there’s a thief on the run.”

You watch as Jaeyun’s eyes widen, body in a sudden scramble, “uhm, I’m gonna go to the toilet for a moment,” he says amidst the whispers of the crowd, “stomach ache, you know.” Running off before you can give him a reply, brushing past people hurriedly into a random narrow street.

You shrug it off again because it isn’t the first time Jaeyun has acted out of character. However, you can’t help but realise it was always when there was crime.

The questions and suspicions floating around your head for the past week resurface as you focus on the narrow street your best friend had disappeared into.

Oh my god.

You blink profusely, pinch yourself, and rub your eyes because this is mind blowing information. You can’t seem to believe an ounce of what your eyes have just seen. Was that Spider-Man who just swung out of the very same alleyway?

Sim Jaeyun is Spider-Man. And your conclusion only seems to solidify as you hear the muffled voice coming out of his masked persona.

“Oops, sorry,” and a careless swing as he tries his best to manoeuvre through the crowd, accidentally knocking over a little girl’s ice cream cone, “I'm sorry, please don’t cry.”

Yup, that’s Jaeyun. His voice now so familiar you hit yourself in the head for not realising sooner. And his utterly helpless tone as he tries to soothe the little girl — you could recognise it from a mile away.

“I’ll get you a new one, I’m sorry,” he shouts as he spins his web and shoots again, lamppost to windows to signboards before effortlessly catching up with the thief; who was now bound to the wall by web.

“Sorry,” he groans for the fourth time in a matter of minutes, “it’s my job — i mean, not that you deserve to get away no, i just-” he rambles and you giggle at his comment. Seems like Sim Jaeyun will never change, even as a superhero or as your best friend.

“I meant to say, justice has been served,” he nods, seemingly proud of his awkward catchphrase that you were sure he stole from the superhero movie you watched with him a few weeks back. “I have to get back now, someone awaits me you know - i mean, no- I’m not supposed to give details of my personal life. I’ll just- stop talking… yeah.”

And you watch again as he swings back down the street. With his identity revealed, you can’t help but look up to Jaeyun even more now — a top student and a superhero? How unfair the world is. How lucky you were to have him as your best friend.

“Hey! Aren’t you yn? Spider-Man, is that your girl?” You shrink, head down as you fix your gaze on the floor immediately, cheeks a rosy red. God, you think, this is a little embarrassing.

You feel his presence before you see his shadow morphing with yours on the floor, “hey yn,” and you look up to see the superhero, who’s panting ever so slightly, stand in front of you in his glory. “Sorry about last week, I was well busy, and I know it isn’t any-”

“It’s fine,” you stop him from blabbering, a toothy grin plastered on your face. And Jaeyun feels proud, maybe him saving someone has put Spider-Man back into your good graces, maybe he has a chance with you as Spider-Man.

“I had fun with my crush at the amusement park. Actually, thank you for the opportunity, I kissed his cheek for the first time and it felt like heaven.”

He pauses, and Jaeyun wants to rip off his mask at the very moment to kiss you. You liked him back, fuck, you actually liked him back.

“Ah,” he says after a while of tense silence, his hands rubbing the nape of his neck, “that’s amazing. So- do you… I mean- so you’re like, in love with him? Wait love might be a little uhm-”

“Yeah, I’m in love with him.”

Time stops as your eyes pierce into his, and he can swear at this moment that you knew exactly who he was. He thinks it’s over, and he can finally ask you to be his — because he’s hellbent on loving you, for the past four years he has been.

“Seems like this crush of yours needs to step up his game, or I might just steal you away,” he remarks lightheartedly, uncaring of the sea of cameras pointing towards the both of you.

“Yeah, it seems like he does. Maybe you should visit him one day, tell him that it’s about time to man up, or I’ll be the one asking for his hand.” You shoot a knowing glance at him, a confident smirk on your face.

Jaeyun chuckles, “right, I’ll be sure to tell him that, wouldn’t want him to lose such a special girl.”

“Thanks Spidey, I wonder what I’d ever do without you,” you laugh, patting his suited shoulder before he once again swings away into the narrow alleyway, only to appear minutes later donned in his usual faded ripped jeans and white shirt, hair tousled and smile wide as he runs back to you.

And he’s before you all again, this time as your best friend and you swoon as his adoring eyes and elated smile. “You okay?” You ask, hand raising to fix his hair.

“I couldn’t be better.”

v. Batman vs Spider-Man, a battle of the mans

“Spider-Man should now change his name into wing man as he is spotted once again, engaging in conversation with the very same yn from last week. Spider-Man was not only ruthlessly dumped by her, but was also asked to quote on quote visit her crush to ask him to grow a pair. Seems like she is off the market for our poor lonely superhero, who can’t seem to catch anyone except for criminals. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Seems like you can’t catch a break, huh Yun?” You point out as you switch the television off, “not only defamed into a wing man but also asked to grow a pair.”

And it seems like he really can’t because ever since you confronted him about being Spider-Man, his days have been filled with even more ruthless teasing, and weird questions.

“How do you even piss as Spider-Man?”

“Can I swing from building to building?”

“Can you hang upside down for ten minutes?”

“How do you think you would fare against Batman in a fight?”

But there’s one unasked question still hanging in the air. And Jaeyun really wants to address it, but it seems like you’ve lost your confidence by the way the flesh of your cheeks heats an angry red at any slight hint of him being your crush — or as Jaeyun would like to call himself; your soon to be boyfriend.

“I’ve grown a pair,” he says, shifting towards you, eyes trained on yours, “seems like someone has lost a pair.”

“Have not” you argue, lies — you could barely look at Jaeyun now without a lovesick smile on your face. Neither could you muster up the courage to ask him to be your boyfriend. “And if you ever grew a pair, you would have asked.”

“Ask what?” He teases, face moving closer to yours. He looks too good, godly almost, with his black rimmed glasses perched at the bridge of his nose.

You pout, furrowing your eyebrows as you place a light slap on the middle of his chest. And he lets out a low chuckle, the vibrant sun rays flush through the sheer day curtains of Jaeyun’s room, a natural spotlight glowing on the both of you.

“Fine,” he whispers, and you can feel his breath on your lips, it’s warm and inviting and you feel yourself leaning into him. “Will you be my girlfriend, love?”

You barely nod your head before he attaches his lips on yours. And you think you’re going to be obsessed with Sim Jaeyun — your fingers find their way through his hair and he sighs. It’s like he’s imprinted in your heart and you want to kiss him again and again and again.

Sim Jaeyun with pretty eyes, pretty lips, a pretty face, a pretty being, breaks the kiss only to kiss you again and again as you wish.

“Did I swing into your heart, love?” He smirks as you playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “Are we not going to bring up the time when you fell after showing me your web skills?”

He tackles you down and you giggle, “I can fall from the sky, I can fall from a tree, but the best way to fall is to fall in love with you.” He grins idiotically before racing out the door as you cringe at yet another bad pick up line from him.

“Sim Jaeyun, are you kidding me? I wonder how you even make up quotes like ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ with that mind of yours.”

“What mind? You mean my mind — the place where you always are?”

You groan in fake disgust as you watch your boyfriend (boyfriend!) smile proudly at his idiotic pick up lines. The both of you drinking sunlight as if it’s love — where he’s all yours and you’re all his.

uncut. confessions i can’t make ( a crumpled confession letter written by a sixteen year old sim jaeyun )

hi dear yn,

i like you. it’s been a while since you took my breath away we first met. this is my first time ever writing a confession so i don’t really know what to say write… i guess it’s like writing physics notes so maybe it wouldn’t be too hard i hope

chapter one part one : what i like about you

i like the way you smile laugh, how your eyes turn into the tiniest of crescents, it makes me proud of the jokes i crack (that physics joke was good was it not). i like the feeling i have around you — it’s warm and fuzzy, natural — talking everyday without any forceful conversation, laughs or attention.

part two : why you should like me

i think you should like me because i like you. i think you should like me because i’m smart! i can help you with physics and maths. i don’t really know what else i can give you but i’ll try my best to make you smile everyday.

will you be my girlfriend? Oh god, this is so weird i actually like you a lot and

(a bunch of scribbling)

forget it. you’ll never like me back.

dear mister sim jaeyun,

after three hours of fighting for my life, i have finally gotten my hands on the most treasured item of the year, a sixteen year old you’s crumpled confession letter to me. and since you wrote it in a physics notes style like a loser, as your girlfriend i have no choice but to follow you (so that you don’t feel lonely)

one. what i like about you

everything. i like your hair, i like your face. I like the way you say sorry to every single person in the neighbourhood while courageously saving them. i like your pick up lines on some days and how you have the guts to challenge Batman to a fight when i proclaim him as my favourite hero. i like the way you laugh and i like the way you smile. i am especially enchanted by your kicked puppy ways and easily manipulated demeanour where i can always get what i want without question.

two. why you should like me

i’m your girlfriend and you’re my girlfriend. (you are my girlfriend) you should stop staring at me with those eyes, it gives me the ick (i meant that in a ‘whatever you say pretty boy’ kind of way) you should like me because i am the person who likes you the most. (i love you so much)

will i be your girlfriend? obviously i will, i mean who can say no to you.

love you babe,

spider-man’s (your) hot sidekick

© SJYUNS

[normalgirlnextdoor]

Alpha 141! X Omega reader??

Hii! I don't usually post my writing, but I had this idea and wrote up a draft/demo of and idea i have. Let me know what yall think and if you want to see it continued! Reblog if you like it please! Also I didn't really edit it, sorry lol!

You tapped away on your mechanical keyboard, the clicky sounds saving you from the quiet boredom that came with running your base's front desk. Running it of course was your punishment for.. Well lets just say when tensions get high you struggle to keep your mouth shut. And it just had to be today that you get dished this punishment. The day one-four-one was assigned to come in, you know to check the place out, see if there was a ‘missfit’ to take on their team. 

You see, you unfortunately work at a special “military”' base, military used lightly as it's not really used for the government to have soldiers willing to fight, but actually to protect the government from lethal beings that could be useful military weapons. You and everyone else, including your current captain, have very dark reasons for why you’re in here. The only way you specifically could get out of the hellish base was if your true mates, yes mates with an “S”, came for you. Legally the government cannot keep anyone from their true mates, but considering you definitely had four, you had a snowball chance in hell of them coming to you. 

Letting out a loud dramatic sigh you looked over your writing. Paperwork was the bane of your existence. Rubbing your eyes you go back to typing the latest mission report; only to be interrupted by the large military doors swinging open with a slam. In came five different, clearly not impressed people. Four out of the five are men, built like true military muscle heads, while the fifth was very fit female. Taking a deep breath you slip into profession mode, choosing to address the women instead of the four intimidating alpha males.

“Hello! Can I please get your names, ids, and the reason why you are here?”  Your voice was overly sweet, sweeter than it usually was.

“I’m Kate Laswell with one-four-one. John-”  she tossed her head to the side.

“Oh, of course you are,” You dropped the cute assistant act, pulling back into a neutral look. Blowing air through your nose you started to type a quick check in for the special operation group one-four-one. Laswell gaped at you.

“Okay,” You flicked your head up rather fast, causing your dog tags to clink with your military issued scent blocking collar.

“You guys are good,I’m Bite risk by the way,” you inform them that you yourself are on the team they will be montering, before telling them where to go. Laswell smiled at you, tipping her head in thanks as she strutted down the hall. One-four-one on the other hand, took their time analyzing you as they passed by. As the last and largest one, the one with the warm looking skullmask, passed by you rolled your eyes, going back to your mission report. 

“Sir, I’m aware that you want to see your daughter and I am deeply empathetic to what you're going through right now. But unless you show me your Id, I won't be able to even let you into the security system for public visit days, which as I said are: Saturdays, Sundays and specific holidays,” your absolutely fed up. Your team including one-four-one, who are currently coming down the hall to collect you, could even tell just by the stressed undertone of your voice.

“I’m not going to show some barracks bunny my id! I want to see my daughter! Now let me in! I served in world war two! I don’t deserve this disturbing treatment from some omega floozy! You have no idea what it means to work in the military! You're just some whore-” A loud crash.  Your captain quickly ran into the lobby, quickly ripping you off the disrespectful older man. Thankfully she was quick enough to prevent him from leaving with a deep bite scar. Your eyes glowed red as you tried to throw her off, but she kept her hold on you, even as you dug your elongated claws into what skin you could reach. 

“Fang! Get him out of here!” She commanded one of your team mates. As he was being escorted out your captain shoved your face into the crook of her neck, letting out a strong calming scent. You drank it up, forcing your feral omega down. Meanwhile task force one-four-one silently watched. Genuinely surprised how quick things escalated in only the first three hours of their two week observation. 

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Price said, his thick British accent quickly catching your omegas' attention, red eyes looking over to the entire team. Interesting indeed you thought. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Tuesday! Ugh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s nearly midnight in Norway by the time you’re free of the airport. The train station isn’t far; it’s part of the airport. You wait on a bench between the rails as your boarding is two hours away. You sit with your luggage and mope. This new land only adds to the gloom clinging to you. 

You shiver as a draft flows down the tunnel. Not only is grey and grim, but it’s cold. It’s almost June but the weather is more akin to the cusp of winter and spring back home.  

Your weeks of research couldn’t prepare you for the real things. All that anticipation could never compare to that moment of desolation; alone in this far land, away from everything you knew. Everything around you is new and foreign and unwelcoming. 

When the train pulls up, you wait in queue with the other passengers. Some are native, speaking in lilted English or indecipherable Norwegian. Duolingo hasn’t done much for you as you catch only scraps of pronouns and verbs. Others are new arrivals like yourself but they seem much more certain of themselves. You feel utterly lost. 

You show your ticket and board. You tuck your bag away with the larger pieces kept at the front of the carriage and hug your carry-on in your lap. You stare out the window as the train begins to roll on the tracks, screeching as it pulls out into the black night of this strange land. 

The subtle rumble of the locomotive lulls you into a half-sleep. Your head is wrought with the ache of your building hangover and twisted visions of the life left behind. You hear Steve’s final goodbye, you feel the hug that was snugger on your end than his, and you feel the razor of Peggy’s spiteful eye. Even in a stupour, you can’t forget it. You hope Sam is right and that it will fade with time, yet you fear it might all be gone for good. 

You wake as the automated voice announces your stop as the next one. You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. You’re trying to be optimistic. Just focus on work. That’s what this is all about. Everyone keeps saying it and you haven’t heard any of them. This is a great opportunity. What you’ve been hoping for all these years. How did you forget that?  

You disembark and drag your bag behind your heavy feet. You’re exhausted but you still have a trek to go. Everything looks so different than back home. Small differences but enough to reinforce your displacement. 

You find the rental car kiosk at the other end of the station and show your reservation. Work is paying for that too. Apparently, you’ll need it to get to the site. Another harbinger of desolation. 

You hook up your phone to the built-in bluetooth and tap the address already saved in your maps. The app takes a moment to recenter and finally, you’re off. You wonder if you should even be driving. You’re definitely not drunk anymore but you’re barely awake. 

It’s only an hours ride across the city, just along the ridges that look off onto the coast. It’s beautiful. You can see that even through your melancholy.  

The morning rises as you get your key to the blue paneled townhouse. You should try to stay up to reset your clock but you’re jet lagged to the bone. The moment the door is locked, you let your bags fall to the floor and stumble through to the first piece of furniture you see. You collapse face first onto the couch, unable to feel the impact as you plummet into a deep sleep. 

Time, space, and all your pain disappears. There is only the endless void of fatigue. Your mind is too tired to summon nightmares or nonsensical visions. Your body is so drained that even your brain is empty. 

You wake on your arm, fingers tingling painfully as your shoulder muscles burn. You hiss and sit up. The bend of your fingers and a shaky attempt to move your elbow make you whine. Ugh. You rub feeling back into the limb as you lean against the back of the couch. 

You look around, finally able to take it all in. The house is neat and sleek. White plaster and pale wood finishes. The couch you sit on is a sectional and there’s a match ottoman across from you. The TV mounted on the wall reflects the shadow of the archway behind you and the tall lamp in the corner and the stone and marble ornaments. 

You rise, wobbling on your legs, and put your arms out to get your bearings. You meander through the townhouse. You can hardly admire the furnished interior as it underlines your loneliness. All this space for just you. 

There’s a kitchen at the rear of the house, a large wooden island standing center to a fridge with a glass door and polished counters carved in granite. The tiles are pristinely placed diamonds in hexagons and a large window looks out into the rain-soaked yard. It’s night again, or maybe that’s what the daylight looks like here. 

Upstairs, there’s a bedroom and a bathroom. A full tub and separate shower, two sinks set into a sparkling counter, and a wall of mirrors above them. It truly is a dream but why doesn’t it feel like it? 

You amble down stairs and fish out your phone. The battery is at eight percent. You have several texts. All from Sam. You only remember then why you don’t see any from Steve. No, you won’t check. 

You quickly type that you’ve landed safely and set the cell down. You’ll let it die before you plug back in. You need time. You need to get yourself straight. You need to accept that this is all real. You made this choice.  

You’re starting over. It’s a new life and there’s no room for your heart here. 

💟

You have the night to unpack, more than just your luggage. Still, there are things you can’t let out. Not yet. As much as the blade twists in your chest, taking it out will mean a deluge you can’t quell. For now, you just won’t think about it. 

You sleep a few more hours and wake just before six. You have your bag ready to go for the day. You tie on your boots and pull on a lined jacket before braving the Norwegian summer. You lock the door behind you and yawn into the brisk air. 

Before you head for the site, you stop at a cafe you see along the way. You get an egg biscuit and a coffee with extra espresso. You’re sure to add on a snack to eat between your work. 

You drive towards the greater mountains and turn onto the road that angles up the side. You follow the curved ledge as the GPS guides you through the car speakers. The drive is two hours up, maybe a bit quicker on the way down. Suddenly, a ping sounds from the system and you glance at the screen; ‘signal lost’. Shoot. It’s okay. You think you’re almost there. 

You pull over, not that there’s much space to do so. You have the physical maps you’ll use for the work itself. You find yourself amid the lines and symbols and memorise the path forward. You continue on cautiously, reassured as you’re met with a sign that delineates the site. The plot has already been closed off with a fence. 

‘Grant land. No trespassing.’ 

You park just outside the fencing and grab your bag and your breakfast. You sit on the hood and eat as you look over the muddy site. You read the grant report. It’s here they think there was a settlement. Not a very big one but an important one.  

The rock wall hugs the site in an almost perfect basin as the slick land is barren of almost any growth. You’ll start with gridding it all out, both with string and on paper. You clap your hands off and get up to begin. The process will keep your distracted. 

You put your earbud in and set to task. You pause to sip coffee and mark the paper between planting the stakes and the string the twine to divvy it all up in squares. You watch where you put each step, the mud sucking at your treads. A wet site is never an easy one. 

It takes the first day just to prep for digging and you don’t even think you’re done. You’re tired and achy and ready to go home. It’ll take you nearly three hours back by your guess. The night will be a short one as you figure you’ll need to head out earlier, especially if you hope to take advantage of the fleeting sunlight. 

As you get back to the townhouse, it’s night again. You walk down to a fish restaurant just a block away. The faces are friendly and the food is good, but it all seems so bland. You eat and go back to your accommodation. Not home, just a place to lay your head. 

You check your phone. Back amid the world of the living, you have a dozen messages; Sam, Bucky, your mom, Arturo. You respond to each of them in turn, assuring them that all is well. You don’t have the energy for much more. 

Yet it isn’t up to you. Your phone chimes at you as you near the bed, sitting on the edge as you answer. You know with Sam that ignoring him will only make him worse. 

“Hey,” you answer with an unrestrained yawn. 

“Yo, how ya feeling?” he asks. 

“Erm, tired,” you lean forward, crossing and arm over your knees. “How are things there?” 

“Eh, usual. So, uh, did that paradise punch knock you on your ass too or am I getting old?” He chuckles. 

“Heh, yeah, no I’m feeling it still,” you mutter. 

“Mm, it’s late there...” he says, “sorry, if I’m keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s fine. Just... a lot of driving.” 

“Oh? You worked today?” 

“Wanted to get a head start,” you shrug as you play with the fold of your pajamas across your knee. 

“How is it? Is it bleak? Cold? Are the men gruff?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Grey. Bit chilly but it’s not bad around noon,” you say dully, “haven’t seen much of the locals. With how long it takes me to get up the mountain...” 

“Oh, a mountain,” he echoes enthusiastically, “that’s exciting.” 

“I guess. Eats away the day.” 

“I’m sure,” he agrees glumly, “hey, don’t forget to treat yourself. Take a weekend off and hit that spa.” 

“I will. I just got here.” 

“Well, we all miss you,” he says. “Bucky especially. We got in a huge blow out the other day over the string in his hoodie.” 

“Of course you did,” you can’t help but laugh. 

“Really, I didn’t do anything. I was trying to fix it and it just... slipped inside, I don’t know. I don’t think it was about the string,” he snickers. “Probably having to deal with Steve and his--” Sam stops himself, “sorry.” 

“What? No, it’s fine. Really. I came out here to get away but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.” 

“I know but you’re tryna forget him. Like you should,” Sam insists. “And he’ll realise soon enough what he missed out on all these years. And you need to do the same. Go out, explore, enjoy it. You’ll need to have some good stories to bring back to us here, we’re dying of boredom without you.” 

“Yeah, uh, I’ll try,” you grumble, “anyway, I gotta head out early for the dig so I should let you go.” 

“Right, of course,” he agrees, “don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t. Promise.” 

“Night,” he says. 

You return a ‘good night’ and hang up. You toss your phone onto the pillow and heave as you clutch your head. You hate this. Why did you come all this way just to suffer? You should have just stuck it out. Sat on the sidelines like you always did and just swallow it all down. This is worse. Being so alone.  

There’s no going back. Not now. So you just need to get through this and after... after you’ll just have to face Mr. and Mrs. Rogers with a fake smile and broken heart. 

💟

The next week goes by much like your first days there. You wake up, drive up the mountain, plot, dig, clean up, and drive back. You sleep almost as soon as you sit down. You don’t have time to mull over what you left behind, not as you catalogue every bone and bead you come across. 

You check in with Arturo when you can, just to confirm that everything is going according to plan. Often, you’re asleep when anyone else calls. You wake up to notifications from your mom and Sam and even Bucky. You should call them back but you just can’t. You can’t put on a fake voice for them. Not yet. 

You take a day off. Only after Arturo insists. You know you should. You may as well have a proper grocery shop. You can’t keep living off the cafe and fish shop.  

The shop feels more like a market. You pick through produce and meats, and get what’s easy. You’ll cook it all and package it up so you can just heat it up later. Some muffins to eat on your way up the mountain and maybe a few protein bars. 

As you trawl the grocery store aisles, you pull out your phone. You have a pile of unread notifications from Insta. You don’t often check it anyway but your curious and a little homesick. 

You see your mom’s post about her trip to the vineyard with her book club pals and Sam’s story with a very agitated looking Bucky. That makes you laugh. You scroll by some crafting videos and the pages you follow of castle curators living your aspirational goals. 

Then you stop. You pull the cart still and go rigid as you stare at the screen. The image of Steve and Peggy burns into your retinas like a blinding light. It’s there engagement announcement. He has her in his arms, kissing her, as she holds out her hand to the camera to show off the diamond. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest is on fire and your ears are ringing. It’s like salt in the wound and you don’t doubt it's intentional, at least on Peggy’s part.  

Your hands shake as you grip the phone tightly and tap on Steve’s username. You ignore the rest of his profile and the pictures you know will only add to the turmoil brewing in your stomach. You hit the button in the corner and tap again and again. ‘You are about to block ‘starsnstripes18, are you sure’. Yes and yes! 

You lock the screen and drop the phone into your purse, nestled into the basket of the cart. You grasp the bar and push the cart forward, steadying your steps with it. You look between the shelves and exhale. 

You need to go cold turkey. No more Steve, no more Peggy, no more New York. You stood still so long, it feels good to run away from it all. 

[pedriache]

Domestic!Gavi Head Cannons.

Please i’m so sick about him somebody SAVE ME. Yall. This has been in my drafts for like. MONTHS. I need it out.

⌗ Domestic!Gavi who, although serious while playing on the pitch, is very childish at home. He likes to do things that make him feel like a normal teen (before he turned 20 ofc) such as playing card or board games. He likes to pull harmless pranks, for example; jumping out and scaring you when you walk through a door! He’ll always throw himself into a fit of giggles after.

“God! You should’ve seen your face!” He’ll exclaim, pulling you into a hug that despite your annoyance and palpitating heart, has a smile slowly growing on your face.

⌗ Domestic!Gavi who, is so clingy when you both have your days off. Whether you are milling about the house doing your duties such as cleaning or cooking, he will walk around or stand beside you. Although he is clearly not busy, he also just doesn’t help unless necessary. If you need something from another room he’ll whine and complain about how far it is, but really he just doesn’t want to leave your presence longer than a few minutes.

This had started a year into your relationship as Gavi’s career took him away from you for longer periods of time, so when he did get these special days, he hated to leave your side.

⌗ Domestic!Gavi who, never lets you forget when it’s your day to cook. You two had a system where whoever was the least busy that day, would make dinner. Even when you passed by the white board that was connected to the fridge and it clearly stated your name on it for dinner duty, he had to point it out with a smug little smirk all the while.

“Don’t forget it’s your day to cook!”

You always gave him a ‘really.’ look, rolling your eyes, “I can read too babe.” And he would grin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that made you forgive his childishness immediately.

⌗ Domestic!Gavi who, is very affectionate. He is also a big bother. You cannot have downtime alone when he is also home. If you’re reading? He’s reading it with you. He’ll make you sit in between his legs so he can hold you and get in some reading time too!

“Can I flip the page now?” You groan. You were a fast reader and you boyfriend… well he wasn’t.

Gavi would huff, “Give me a minute! You’re so impatient.”

⌗ Domestic!Gavi who, drives you everywhere. Once he got his license, it was always him driving the two of you around. Though, it was terrifying at first, you had grown to enjoy it. He liked going on late night drives, music playing softly in the background, his hand on your thigh and everything. It’d quickly became a routine for the two of you to go on a drive throughout the city every other week, for him to get more driving etiquette, and for the both of you to spend more time together.

“You’re going too fast around corners! Gavi—“ He’d hush you with a quick thigh squeeze.

“I know what i’m doing cariño.” He’d assure you, turning to the window to roll his eyes, which you’d pinch him for.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Let me know if you want tagged in future posts, specific or all <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl !

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 12.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #the game of teaching body

author's note: Ok guys, this is it! My hands are shaking as I'm publishing it. Thank you all so, so much, for all the kind comments, for the freakin' art (like what? fanart? of my writing? I'm still gagged over it!), for reblogging, placing messages in my inbox, for everything! Something that was supposed to drag my attention away from the temporary shittiness of my life, has turned into a full-blown passion, as currently I am drafting three new fics and working on all your awesome requests and I wouldn't be doing it without your encouragement. Thank you.

(disclaimer: I have a request for the opposite of the situation happening here, coming soon!)

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

You noticed Viktor’s breath coming in short, uneven pants, his face twisted—not with pleasure, but something else entirely. His movements faltered, his grip tightening on your shoulder for balance before he suddenly stilled. His hands dropped to the desk on either side of your hips, fingers digging into the surface as though bracing against some invisible force.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, as though fighting off something within himself. His head hung down, strands of hair clinging to his damp forehead.

Alarmed, you scanned his body, searching for a clue. “Viktor?” you whispered, your voice steady despite the concern that thrummed through you. But he didn’t respond.

With a frustrated groan, Viktor slipped away from you, grabbing a pillow from the bed to shield himself as he limped toward the armchair. Every step was stiff and uneven until he finally collapsed into it, stretching his leg out with a sharp hiss. “Fucking cramp,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his hand rubbing at his thigh.

“Where?” You hopped off the desk immediately, pulling your sweatshirt over your head as you hurried to his side. You knelt beside him, your hands already seeking out the problem. “Let me see.”

His body tensed further, his lips pressing into a hard line as his free hand rose to cover his face. Anger, frustration, and something darker flickered across his expression. Embarrassment, no—shame. He was a man who hated to feel weak, and this moment—vulnerable, raw—clawed at his pride.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, but the pained wince that followed betrayed him.

You softened your voice, making it as non-threatening as possible. “Viktor,” you urged, your fingers hovering just above his thigh. “Show me.”

For a moment, you thought he’d refuse. His jaw worked as though grinding back a retort, but the tension in his leg won out. With a reluctant nod, he guided your hands to the offending muscle. You worked slowly, methodically, your fingers finding the knotted muscle and easing into it with unpractised care. Viktor leaned back, his head tipping against the armchair with a low, shuddering exhale. You glanced up at him occasionally, careful to give him space, but unable to stop the flickers of affection that crossed your face.

When the cramp finally loosened, Viktor’s body sagged with relief. His hand fell from his face, but his brows were still knitted together, his mouth almost invisible, save for a line. He looked... defeated.

You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his knee, a wordless gesture of comfort, before reaching for the pillow. You straddled his lap, intent on drawing him back, or rather away from this. But just as your lips hovered above his, Viktor’s hands came up, catching you by the shoulders and halting your movement.

“Wait, I—” Viktor exhaled heavily, his eyes darting anywhere but yours. His chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths, the frustration in his face giving way to disgust. “This is… strongly unattractive.” He offered you a sad, apologetic smile, one that left his eyes empty. It was a weak defence, a brittle mask to cover the discomfort roiling beneath. He didn’t want you to see him like this—not yet, maybe not ever. “I’m… sorry.”

Your lips curled into a soft, teasing smile. “Are you joking? A hot man in need of aid? In my books, that’s strongly attractive.” Your tone was light, your fingers weaving gently through his hair as though trying to coax him back to you. “Any other… affliction I could be of assistance with?”

But Viktor’s smile faded completely. “Please, stop,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost cracked. His body stiffened beneath you, his hand rising to cover his face again. He didn’t push you away, but the gesture was louder than words.

As if on cue, your hand slipped over his, tugging it gently away. “Let me in,” you whispered, your voice a soft, disarming plea. You rubbed your nose against his cheek, your warmth melting into him, your presence grounding him. Viktor’s breath hitched, a shallow inhale slipping through his parted lips. He was never this close to anyone—not like this. His heart was never this close to opening, his fears never this close to crawling into the light.

“How did this happen?” you asked, your fingers trailing behind you to graze the tense muscle of his thigh.

Viktor hesitated; his gaze fixed somewhere on the space between you. His teeth tugged at his lower lip, and when he finally spoke, his voice was distant, almost clinical. “Rotated femur. Just… a bad case.”

He didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t have to. Your mind worked quickly, piecing together everything you knew about him, every detail you’d catalogued. The timeline was clear, the reasons obvious, but you made the deliberate choice not to probe further. Instead, you placed a gentle hand on his chest, your touch steady and reassuring. “You’re okay,” you said softly, trying to guide him somewhere lighter, somewhere safer.

Viktor’s chest fluttered beneath your hand, his breaths uneven and shallow, each one giving away his hesitation. His eyes flicked to yours briefly before darting away again, the vulnerability in that fleeting glance leaving him feeling exposed. He gripped the armrest of the chair tightly, his knuckles whitening, as though he were bracing himself for something he couldn’t name. The silence between you stretched like a pained muscle.

For a long moment, he stayed like that—closed off, his expression unreadable save for the tightening of his jaw and the way his lips pressed into a thin line. But then, slowly, his grip on the armrest slackened, his shoulders dropping as though releasing a burden. He didn’t speak, but something shifted in his gaze as he looked at you again. It was tentative, unsure, but there was a crack in the armour—a fragile permission.

You saw it immediately, the subtle easing of his posture, the way his eyes softened despite the war still raging inside him. You stayed still, letting the moment settle, your touch light and unintrusive. Your thumb traced soothing circles over his chest, your movements careful, watching for even the smallest sign of discomfort. When none came, your fingers drifted to his thigh again, the tension there still palpable under your gentle ministrations.

“You can tell me to stop,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching his for any flicker of doubt. But instead of resistance, there was something else entirely—a flicker of trust, raw and unpolished, but unmistakable.

“So... how do we not make it upset?” you asked carefully, leaning forward to rest against his chest, your palm cradling his cheek. Your voice was calm, your touch light, but Viktor’s body tensed beneath you again, the rigidity in his frame speaking volumes. The answer, when it came, wasn’t surprising.

“We don’t ask questions about it,” Viktor huffed, his tone carrying a faint edge, though it softened as his hand began to move idly up and down your back. His touch was a distraction, deliberate and almost subconscious, as though trying to steer the moment away from his discomfort. But the heaviness lingered—how had this spiralled from intimacy to a conversation about his leg? The absurdity of it all made him feel drained, a long sigh escaping him.

“But I never asked you,” you murmured quietly, your lips pressing to the curve of his neck. Your words lingered, warm against his skin, as your fingers trailed through his hair. “And I seek to correct my mistake.” You whispered the words like a secret, your tone so tender it nearly disarmed him. Viktor clenched his jaw, the growing ache in his chest conflicting with the faint spark of heat your presence stirred.

“You read me like a book. And here I am, still wondering… what gets you off,” you teased softly, your playful tone a deliberate shift away from the seriousness he so clearly wanted to avoid.

“Definitely not questions about my leg,” Viktor groaned, pulling back slightly, though his lips twitched in reluctant amusement. He let out an exasperated sigh, wiggling just enough to escape the trail of kisses you left along his neck. “Please, let’s sit this one out.”

Even though the warmth of your weight on him stirred something deep in his core, the shame pressed harder, suffocating, and unrelenting. He tried to muster an apologetic smile, but it fell flat, and the tension returned like a phantom haunting his every breath.

“Do you trust me?” you asked, adjusting yourself on his lap, your hands cupping his face with intent. This wasn’t about sex anymore, and Viktor could see it in your eyes. You weren’t looking for fun or distraction. You were asking for something bigger, something he wasn’t sure he could give.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, his voice steady despite the storm inside. But then, with a small, bitter laugh, he added, “Though I know exactly what’s coming next. You’re going to ask me when I’m comfortable, and we’ll never have fun sex again because you’ll forever burn this moment into your brain as a pity party for the cripple.” His words were dry, calculated, but the flash of frustration in his eyes betrayed him. “Which I am, by the way. But that’s beside the point.”

“Viktor, I don’t care if—”

“You are not allowed to say ‘cripple,’ it’s my word only,” he cut you off, his tone clipped as his eyes fixed on you. Your lips twitched in a half-smile as you rolled your eyes in response, your patience endless.

“I don’t care if you’re an Olympic athlete or a chess world champion,” you continued with exaggerated care, your voice steady, measured. “I want to know what gets you off. No more, no less.”

Your thumb brushed softly against his cheek, a small, grounding gesture that made Viktor’s jaw tighten for just a moment before he let out a slow breath. “And I won’t force you to do or say anything,” you added gently, your words laced with sincerity. “But I’m asking you to reconsider, given that you are in a safe space.”

He studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face, searching for something—doubt, insincerity, any crack in your words he could latch onto. But there was none. Just your calm, unwavering presence.

“And this is your request?” he asked finally, raising an eyebrow, though his tone lacked the sharpness it held before.

“This is my request,” you said plainly, your bluntness somehow soothing, disarming. You leaned in to kiss his forehead, a tender gesture that made him close his eyes, his resistance softening like ice melting under the warmth of spring sunlight.

You let him gather his strength. You stayed close, your movements deliberate and slow, as though any sudden action might startle him into retreat. Your hand slid to his chest, resting there lightly, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart. You waited, not speaking, letting the weight of your presence fill the space between you.

Viktor’s fingers twitched at his sides, then hesitated before coming to rest lightly against your hips. His grip was tentative, almost unsure, but he didn’t pull you closer or push you away. His silence stretched out, but in it, something shifted—a small crack in the wall he’d built, a mute permission.

You tilted your head, your gaze fixed on his, waiting for a sign—any sign—that his discomfort was easing. It came in the form of his breath, no longer shallow but slow and steady, his shoulders relaxing by degrees. The corners of his mouth twitched faintly, almost imperceptibly, as though he was trying to let you in but didn’t quite know how.

“I’m here,” you whispered softly, your words more a reassurance than a prompt. “Whatever you’re ready to share—or not—it doesn’t change anything.”

Viktor’s eyes lifted to yours, and for a moment, the battle within him seemed to subside. He didn’t speak, but the look he gave you said enough. A faint vulnerability glimmered there, a quiet acceptance of your presence, even if he wasn’t ready to bare everything yet.

He sighed, the weight of it carrying the burden of his struggle outside of his body. Damn you.

“Let’s see,” he trailed, his hands moving to rest on your thighs, his touch light but grounding. “I thoroughly enjoyed our last time,” he admitted, his words tentative at first, but gaining confidence as he felt your weight settle more comfortably on him. “And it was… comfortable,” he added thoughtfully, as though revealing a truth he hadn’t quite allowed himself to accept before.

You smiled, leaning into his warmth, your hand brushing softly over his shoulder. You didn’t push, didn’t rush him, giving him the space to guide the conversation.

“Standing, eh, is not my forte, as you saw,” he continued, his hand trailing off to the side as his gaze followed, lingering somewhere beyond you. His voice was steady, but you could hear the faintest hint of self-deprecation beneath it.

“It’s not my favourite either,” you mused, your fingers threading gently through his hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. You could feel the subtle shift in his body as he relaxed beneath your touch.

“Don’t lie, you liked it. I saw you,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at your face, though the glint of amusement in his irises betrayed him.

Your laugh was soft, playful. “I liked it because it was with you,” you breathed, your voice carrying a teasing innocence. You leaned in to place a sweet kiss on his lips, feeling his judgmental hand fall back to your thigh.

His grip tightened slightly, and a sly smirk curved his lips. With a sudden, playful jolt of his hips, he snapped you out of your little act, making you gasp in surprise before laughter bubbled out of you again.

“I like when you suck on my thumb,” he said, his voice lower now, softer, yet carrying an unmissable heat. His hand rose, pressing the pad of his thumb gently against your lips. You parted them immediately, your lips warm and soft as you took him in without hesitation. Your eyes fluttered shut at the quiet praise that followed, his voice like a thread of warmth weaving through you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his tone laced with a mix of encouragement and wonder. His thumb moved, brushing against your tongue, the sensation grounding him in the present moment.

You opened your eyes to find his gaze fixed on you, his expression softened, the guarded edge that usually shielded him nowhere to be seen. Vulnerability still lingered, but now it was met with acceptance, even a flicker of confidence.

“You’re good at this,” you teased, your words a whisper as you gently pulled his hand away to press a kiss against his knuckles. “Being open.”

His laugh was quiet, a breath more than a sound, but it was genuine. “Don’t get used to it,” he warned, though the slight smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

You simply leaned in, resting your forehead against his, your weight steady but light enough to remind him that you would follow his lead. “One step at a time,” you murmured, your hand resting over his heart.

In your touch, in your gaze, Viktor found a quiet reassurance that spoke louder than any words. And for the first time, the fear that had gripped him so tightly began to loosen, slipping away into the quiet intimacy you had built together.

“I like to see you,” Viktor murmured, his voice soft yet steady, as his hand cupped your face lovingly. “Doesn’t matter if you’re on top or I am,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “Though I have to admit, this setup you got us in here is… appealing.” His lips curved into a faint smirk before he pulled you closer, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was as tender as it was deliberate.

“Oh, and I will never say no to a good head,” he whispered against your mouth, the teasing edge in his tone mirrored by the smirk tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, your eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “A good head? Are you trying to tell me something?” you quipped, shifting your hips against his, eliciting a groan that vibrated through him.

“I’m not complaining,” he replied innocently, though the way his hands tightened on your hips betrayed his composure. He rolled his hips beneath you, his movements fluid, deliberate, and taunting. “All I’m saying is that practice makes perfect, and I am… willing to be your study buddy,” he finished, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction as the corners of his mouth quirked upward in a smile.

You found yourself slightly breathless at his audacity, but you refused to falter. Instead, you leaned in closer, your teeth grazing his lower lip in playful retaliation. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you teased, your voice low, though it carried a spark of mischief that only made his grin widen.

The tension between you shifted, turning softer, as Viktor let out a quiet, contented sigh. His body, once taut with uncertainty, now felt pliant beneath you. A gentle heat spread through his veins, chasing away the lingering shadows of shame and fear. For a moment, he simply gazed at you, his expression thoughtful, as though weighing his next words carefully.

“I... want to be wanted,” he finally confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of his honesty. “I want you to want me—not to see me as—”

He faltered, his brows knitting together as his words trailed off. His hand moved to rest over yours where it lay on his chest, grounding himself in your touch. Viktor’s gaze searched yours, wary yet hopeful, as though testing the waters of how much more he could bare to you.

You tilted your head, your fingers lacing gently with his as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t,” you said softly, your tone steady and resolute. “I see you as you, as exactly who you are. Consider me… bewitched.”

A wave of affection swept through him, soothing the raw edges of his vulnerability. You didn’t push, didn’t demand anything more from him than what he was willing to give, and it was in that quiet understanding that Viktor felt something shift.

It wasn’t just trust—it was something deeper, something that made the walls he had so carefully built around himself tremble and, piece by piece, begin to fall.

“And Viktor, I want you… so, so much,” your voice barely a whisper against his mouth as you gave him a longing kiss, your hands cradling his face as though he was the most precious thing in the world.

Your words ignited a spark deep within him, fanning the embers of confidence that had smouldered under layers of doubt. Viktor’s hesitation began to wane, replaced by something more primal and eager. His lips moved against yours with renewed hunger, his body responding to you in ways he could no longer suppress.

He hummed, the sound low and rumbling, as his hands found your waist and pulled you closer, his movements deliberate yet restrained, like a man rediscovering his footing. “Hmm, tell me how much do you want me,” he muttered hoarsely against your lips, his breath fanning over your face.

His hands travelled lower, gripping your ass as he guided your movements, your tongues tangling in a slow rhythm. You rolled your hips lazily on his cock, feeling him grow hard beneath you, his groan vibrating through you as you murmured, “So, so much, it hurts. Fuck me, Viktor,” against his lips.

Viktor let out a low chuckle, the sound rich with both amusement and arousal. “Ask me nicely,” he teased, his voice steady now, laced with a familiar confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

Your gaze locked with his, a flicker of playful frustration dancing in your eyes as you bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. His hands slid under your sweatshirt, cupping your breasts with deliberate tenderness, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made you gasp softly.

A tremor ran through you as you exhaled, your fingers threading through his hair. You hesitated, your pride momentarily warring with your desire before you finally gave in. You voice was quiet but filled with emotion as you whispered, “Please, make love to me, Viktor.”

The words melted over him, and he felt last bits of doubts leaving him. His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply, his lips warm and unhurried against yous. This wasn’t just about reclaiming your passion—it was about finding something sacred in the spaces between your bodies, something that belonged only to you and Viktor.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand travelled between your bodies, and you could feel his fingers playing idly at your entrance. He couldn’t fight a smile blooming on his lips when he found out how much indeed you wanted him—your core hot and fluttering on his tender skin as he lazily guided the head of his cock inside.

It was easy to claim you. It was easy to be with you now. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, and you both let out soft groans of relief, filling each other's gaps. For a moment, neither of you moved, letting gentle twitches of your connection guide the growing feeling of pleasure bubbling between you.

Viktor started with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips; it was almost painful, and he felt himself wanting more and less at the same time. With a quiet gesture, he started rocking your hips on top of his, letting you find her own flow. When he felt your movements grow more balanced, he handed the control over to you and savoured the sight of you swaying on top of him. You lazy, sensual rhythm carried both of you in tandem, as your bodies grew closer and closer together. He got himself busy with kissing your neck and kneading the flesh of your ass.

As your rhythm grew more frantic, the strain of holding back visible in your furrowed brow, he pulled you closer by the back of your neck and muttered into your ear, “Touch yourself for me.”

It was both a command and a plea, and you placed your timid hand where your bodies met. You felt momentarily exposed as Viktor’s eyes studied your face, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You held his gaze and seeing there was nothing else but admiration in it, you put yourself on display for him. You let him take in your face, the movement of your wrist, all the quiet sounds you made as your hips stuttered and you came on his cock with a loud “Fuck!” muffled by his neck.

He watched you, fascinated, his own mouth agape, as he felt your walls clenching around him. His own pressure was rising, when he pulled you closer, caging your arms with his and let his thrusts take over. He pushed his hips up with a gentle force, your body already melting around him, as he traced a slick trail up your neck with his tongue.

Seeing his searching eyes and the strain in his forehead, you leaned in and encouraged him with a barely audible, “Come for me.” Viktor’s breath grew hot, and you swallowed the moan he gave you when you whispered a quiet praise against his skin. “You fuck me so well.”

“Fuck, I’m—” he squeezed you flush against him, as the final pants and groans fell from his mouth and he spilled himself inside you, his face pressed against you neck. Feeling him shift beneath you, you hugged him tighter and soothed him with a soft, “Stay."

You remained straddled on his lap, your bodies cooling together in the quiet aftermath. Your fingertips traced lazy, featherlight patterns over his shoulders, grounding you both in the stillness. Viktor's hands rested on your hips, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly over your skin, as though to memorise the moment. Only your breaths, soft and calm spilled into the silence of Viktor’s room.

***

“Of course. Breaking the law, as usual,” Viktor smirked, catching you smoking a cigarette outside the window in between a study session with Sue. “How many times do you think I should let this go?”

“Three,” you deadpanned. “I will have one more that way.” You were so fucking tired. And Sue was completely useless, already snoring soundly in your room.

“How is it going?” he asked, plucking the cigarette from your fingers and taking a drag. You shuffled on your feet with a long sigh and shook your head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to learn all of this in such a short time and then remember it for the rest of my life.”

“You are not. You will forget it briefly, and then it will come back,” he said, passing the cigarette back to you.

“The visions of the future,” you murmured, tracing your open hand toward the window, as if it held the vision itself. “The only future I see is the break. Unless I fail. Then, possibly Starbucks.”

Viktor scoffed. So dramatic. “Such a baby,” he muttered, tracing his thumb over the swell of your lips. It was tender, and he wanted to tell you he was proud of you.

The last time had stirred something very scary within him. His guard was down, ruined. It was never coming back up—it was so ruined. So, he had to be sure. But now, of course, wasn’t the time. You were elbows deep in genetics, chemistry, and other subjects that Viktor had no interest in.

“I think I should switch departments,” you sighed, the sound too heavy for a joke, even though it was, and you smiled weakly. Viktor only blinked slowly, taking the cigarette back.

“Eh, you are doing great. I was much worse during your year.” He hugged you with one arm, the other lifting the cigarette to your lips. You raised your brows in question, though no answer came.

“My mother says changes are good.” This time you put more effort into the joke. “Though she also tells me to wear red knickers to exams and tests, so… I don’t know how trusted she can be.”

“Oh, they work. How do you think I am where I am?” He chuckled, warming your shoulders with his hands. The rumble of his laughter carried itself through you, down, down to your toes. “Not all changes are possible, though.”

“Viktor, if you’ve changed, anything can.” Your voice was wistful, as if you didn’t know what you were saying.

He hadn’t changed.

“I haven’t changed, though, have I?” A hysterical thought tore through him. “Look at us, back here, at the beginning. You, deep in thoughts, and me—” Deep in love with you.

“Viktor, what… what are you doing?” You blinked, unsure. He was stalling. His shoulder left yours as he leaned against the windowsill, just like he did then. You put the cigarette out and flicked it outside. “Do you want to talk about something?”

“Not really, I’m just stating a fact.” I want to tell you; I just have to be sure.

“Fact being?” You swallowed it down—the fear that had started crawling up your throat. You smothered it and pushed it back down, bitter on your tongue.

“That some things don’t change.” He made sure to sound unfazed, to make it sound non-threatening, just natural—an obvious truth about him.

“Why are you being so defensive?” you asked, your eyes narrowing.

“I just… don’t want you to jump into something you’re not sure of.” You have to be sure. He allowed himself a shrug and a faint eye roll for the effect. He watched you, your body completely still as you watched him back.

“I haven’t jumped anywhere yet,” you said, measuring your words, gathering your composure. A month ago, it would have made you claw his eyes out, but now you knew. Because you felt the same. He loved you, and he feared it, and you felt the same. “I’ve barely dipped my toes.”

“What are you saying?” Were you saying what he thought you were saying? It felt like a challenge, and for once, he didn’t like it. It felt more serious than back at the beginning. He had more to lose now. “What do you want from me, really?” He meant to keep it in his thoughts, but it shot out.

“Change is inevitable. I don’t want games. I want you.” A countdown of statements. Dry and measured, said with no affection, just stating facts, like he was. Was that why it had felt so hollow?

“You can’t just walk into a relationship with the intent to change somebody. I won’t. This won’t,” his voice rose dangerously, echoing through the empty corridor. He pointed to his leg and pushed his cane firmly into the floor, as if to steady himself.

“That’s not what I said. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I’m merely saying that changes happen,” you said firmly, letting your arms drop from their defensive cross on your chest.

He hesitated. You were right, somehow, and he was right as well. “What do you want from me?” Just say it. So I can be sure.

“Do I have to know now?”

It was so different from your fight in the snow. He had guarded himself back up, came prepared. You had to improvise. No, you knew. You knew him already. He’d said he’d give you his princess heart, and he did, and now he was asking if you would take it.

“I have to know now,” a shuddering breath escaped him. I have to know now because I won’t be able to walk away later. I have to know now. I have to know now.

“I… brood. I put my work first because it’s the only thing I had for the longest time. I will become boring. And this will become hard,” he began counting it down and couldn’t see the end. “I am… aware that people grow apart. I accept it. But—”

“Viktor,” you interjected. “Why are we talking about growing apart when we haven’t even started anything properly?”

“Because it’s important. And because… yesterday. What you did yesterday, I don’t think I—” I don’t think I can live without it.

You stared at him, breathing evenly, as if you were forcing the breaths inside you.

“You haven’t seen me at my worst. You really haven’t,” he added, noticing you formulating a scoff. Each word was such a strain. Each and every one tried to crawl back down, deep into his stomach, and stir there with all the bile and cigarette smoke.

“I get so jealous. I get so angry. I get angry because I can’t fuck you the way I want to. My leg hurts, and I remember everything. I never forget anything. I will use everything I can against you if it comes to it. So what do you want from me?”

“All of it.” Blunt, almost painful.

He pleaded weakly with your name on his lips. He was so tired. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.

“I want it all. Now, and later. I will keep it safe.” I will keep your heart safe; I promise. “Viktor, I also remember everything. I get jealous and angry. I will use the things you didn’t want to say against you, probably, and I’ll regret it after. I’ve beaten you up in the snow. What you’re describing is human.” I love all your human things.

All the while, you stood at arm’s length. Viktor came closer, swallowing it all down. The words he had said let themselves out, and he swallowed your words too—they coated his stomach with warmth. He swallowed it all down, awash in it.

He pulled you in, slowly, his touch tentative. “Okay,” his breath fanned over her face. “Okay.” I love you so, so much that it hurts.

“I think… I’m in love with you.”

He thought a current of vomit would take him, but it didn’t. Instead, it was your hands holding his as you stared at him, wearing your sweatshirt with a torn collar and his boxer shorts, barefoot, a blanket loosely wrapped around you.

“I love all of you. I promise,” you whispered, meaning it with all your fluttering heart. And Viktor knew you meant it. He knew by the way your hands cradled his ribs, your body slotted in with his so he could feel the drum of your chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you tightly and allowing himself a relaxed exhale, which felt like the first one he had ever taken, as the game was truly over, and you both had won.

[yourstru1y4ever]

June 21, 2018: No Guarantees

Pairing: (eventual) Satoru Gojo x F!Reader Content: canon-compliant, canonical character death, we got some fluff, some angst, Reader is Yuji's Aunt, Gojo refers to Reader as Sweets Word Count: 4.2k Thicker Than Water Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

A/N: ah finally, the first chapter. . . it's not perfect but I wanted to finally post it after it's been sitting in my drafts for the last few months. Be sure to like, reblog and comment! Hopefully I'll be posting the next chapter in a week~

“I’m going to be late again! Shit, I really am dead this time.”

Words are powerful within Jujutsu society. Sorcerers with cursed speech can use their words to curse others easily, but everyone can forget that curses can be born from human emotion. 

“Can’t you see I’m doing this to protect you?”

Humans know that their words can hurt others, be used to stab others in the back, double down on a lie. But those non-sorcerers will never understand how their words can manifest, and fester into something that they could never imagine.

“Not even death will stop my love for you.”

It’s important for Jujutsu sorcerers to remember that their words also can be just as powerful as anyone else's words.

“Focus! Don’t miss the shot!!”

It’s something you have to remind yourself constantly because your family is cursed enough as it is.

. . . “You’re a strong kid, so try to help others.”

The sun brightens up the small hospital room, spreading its warmth. He hates when it gets like this. His eyes crack open slightly and immediately glares at the woman who opened the blinds. Once the blinds are fully open you turn and look at him, a teasing smile on your face.

“Hey old man! Glad to see you’re still kicking.”

He grumbles, “Shouldn’t you be at that school in Tokyo?”

You hum, contemplating. Walking over to the sink in his small room you grab a glass of water. 

“I should be, however my students and I are about to go on a mission.” You hand the water to him, he takes it begrudgingly. 

“Is that what you call your little wilderness retreats?” He says after having a small sip of water. 

“You know they’re more than just 'wilderness retreats' old man.” He looks up at you as you straighten your posture. 

He scoffs, “They’re dangerous, that's what they are! And don’t call me old man, you really should respect your elders.” 

You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes. Still as stubborn as ever, you think.

“Either way, old man, I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be gone for the next few weeks or so.” You walk around the space, tidying up the room from the last time you visited. “I’m monitoring my students so that they can grow as sorcerers.”

He coughs and you stop. He waves his hand, dismissing your concern and takes another drink of water, “I don’t care about what you do with your life-”

“Just don’t involve Yuji into jujutsu, I know Wasuke.” You walk over to the window and grab the flowers out of the vase that Yuji brought over from the other day. Wasuke opens his eyes a bit more now and notices the small frown on your face.

“It’s for his safety,” He grumbles, setting his water down.

“I know,” you look down at the wilted flowers, picking at some of the darkened petals. Ever since Yuji was born it was agreed upon by Wasuke and your sister that you and her would not use your cursed techniques around him. 

While Jin and Wasuke were somewhat aware of curses, they couldn’t see them let alone fight them. They only had an awareness of cursed energy, having an unsettling feeling creep up their spine, a feeling of death, the urge to run to save your own life while you still could.

As you’ve gotten older and had joint custody of Yuji, that agreement your sister made with Wasuke extended to you. You only agreed to his terms when you realized that Yuji couldn’t see curses or wield cursed energy. 

Since the day you held Yuji in your arms as a child you swore to protect him no matter what and despite only being 16 when you gained custody of him you did what you thought was right.

You sigh, “Aren’t your nurses supposed to check in with you?” You look at the clock in the room, “Like now-ish?”

Wasuke hummed, “They’re probably just yapping to each other about useless things.”

“Yapping?” You snicker.

He bristles, “That’s what those nurses do!” He crosses his arms and you can barely contain a laugh from how grumpy he looks. He gives you a sharp glare and you start chuckling, “Such a grouch as always. Never change.”

A quiet knock brings your attention to the nurse standing in the doorway, covering one end of the phone.

“Excuse me, Mr. Itadori, you have a call.” The nurse steps inside the room as you wave at her while smiling.

She smiles back before returning her attention to Wasuke getting closer to his bed, “It’s your grandson again, asking if you want him to bring-”

He starts yelling at the nurse, “Leave me alone! Tell him not to come here! He should go to his club!!” He attempts to snatch the phone out of her hands, “Go to his club!!”

“Damn old man! Always asking for respect and yet not even respecting those who take care of you,” You run to help the nurse deal with Wasuke but she just hands you the phone.

“I’ve got this, don’t worry,” She winks at you. You shake your head and bring the phone up to your ear.

“Yuji?”

“Oh hi Auntie!” You can sense his smile coming from his voice.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school, young man?” You jokingly ask.

“I am! I am! I’m just doing my usual call with Grandpa. Speaking of which you rarely visit him, what’s the occasion?”

“I’m going on a school trip with my students for a few weeks. I just wanted to give him a heads up,” Wasuke was finally relaxed enough for the nurse to start taking his vitals. “And I’m now giving you that same heads up.”

“Gotcha! I hope the trip goes well for you guys!”

“Thanks hon,” A small twinge of anxiety manifests in your chest as you notice a small frown on the nurse's face. 

“And I know I say this all the time but make sure to call me immediately if anything happens. I’ll come over,” You snap your fingers, “like that.”

“Don’t worry Auntie! We’ll be fine.” You grimace at his assurance. Maybe you should talk to Yaga about moving the trip to next week. “I’ll make sure to keep my visits up with Grandpa.”

You try your best to not sound worried, “Alright Yuji, I’ll talk to you later. At this rate you will be late for your classes.”

“I know, I know! I’ll see ya later Auntie! Love ya-” And the line goes dead. As you bring the phone down from your ear the nurse walks up to you. You notice the grave look on her face and you try to not think too much about it.

“Miss, if I may, can we step outside and speak for a moment?”

You hand her back the phone. Shit. Maybe you will call Yaga.

“Of course, I need to head out anyway.” You give her a smile to try to relieve some of the tension. You glance over at Wasuke who has his eyes closed but his arms still crossed. 

“Hey old man, I’m gonna head out now,” He gives you a squinted glare, “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, like die. alright?”

The nurse steps out of the room waiting for you outside. He keeps your gaze, “Hmph, no guarantees.”

It was your turn to glare right back, your voice firm, “Wasuke.”

He turns to face towards the window. Your shoulders deflate and you try your best to brush off your anxiety. As you start to walk outside he calls out your name. You stop just outside the door frame.

“Take care of Yuji when I’m gone,” He mutters, still not looking at you. 

Before you leave you look back at him and smile, “You know I always do.”

You step out of the room and you feel like you’re able to breathe again. It’ll be okay, you try to reassure yourself, he’s just being his usual grouchy, asshole self-

“His lung cancer is worsening.” The nurse spits out.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry miss-” The girl begins to ramble and none of her words reach your ears. Your eyes glaze over and you nod along to whatever she’s telling you at this point. At least his death won’t be from a curse, you thank whatever God granted this to happen. You focus on your breathing and try to pay attention to what the nurse is saying.

“-in a stable condition right now, but I’m not sure for how much longer.”

“Well if he uses his call button then you’ll know,” You try to joke, she doesn’t smile.

“We’ll give you a call if anything happens,” And you nod your head and you try to think of what to do next. Your movements out of the hospital are mechanical and don’t feel right. Your legs are moving on their own and the sinking feeling in your chest hasn’t left yet. With a blink of your eyes you go from outside the hospital to standing on a train platform waiting for the next train into Tokyo.

Come on focus, you reason with yourself. There’s no need to get worked up now when nothing has happened. Once the train arrives you walk on to the nearest car doors that open and miss the two individuals who get off a few cars ahead of you, but one of them looks over at you. 

The small smile that graces his lips is unmistakable and the smile turns into a smirk. His student keeps walking away so he’s unable to call out to you with a snarky remark. He’ll have to save it once he recovers that cursed object the Elders keep hounding him about.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

“You can’t be serious Sensei!” 

“Bonito flakes!!”

“We don’t need you to chaperone us, we’ll just leave on our own!”

“Guys!!” You wave your arms and your three students settle down. . . barely.

Panda is the one to break the silence first, “Why are you canceling our mission? Aren’t those second grade curses still in Sakata?”

“Salmon” Inumaki nods in agreement.

“I’m not canceling your mission outright, it’s just-”

Maki speaks up, “We don’t need your supervision. We’ve gone on missions by ourselves before. Why do you need to come?”

“Due to the sightings of multiple second grade curses in one area I need to at least supervise.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “While I know you all are used to working together, I suggested to Yaga that-”

“You suggested?!” Maki gawks, “You’re worse than Gojo sometimes.”

Your eyes widen and you go slack-jawed. She did not just-

“Tu-na!’ 

“Maki!”

“I’m just saying! We’re strong enough to take care of ourselves, don’t you guys agree?”

“I do, but Maki you can’t just say that about Sensei! She’s nothing like Gojo.”

“And thank God for that.” You mutter and Inumaki smiles. 

“I just don’t see why she needs to watch us all of a sudden.”

“Is it a crime to see how my students are progressing? I want to see the improvement myself.” You cross your arms and straighten your stance trying to regain control. 

Maki pushes the hilt of her naginata on the ground in frustration. A small puff of dust is swept up into the air. 

“You can’t see it during our sparring practices?” Maki’s eyes meet yours in a fiery gaze, your eyes don’t leave hers. Damn her stare is intense!

“I can, but watching you fight a curse in real time is different than in practice. . . you all know that much.” Panda and Inumaki nod their heads in agreement, Maki looks away with disdain. 

You place a hand on Maki’s shoulder and she looks up at your calm expression, “I want to make sure you’re implementing the techniques I’m teaching you in practice. If they aren’t working then we’ll try something different.”

“I had to go on three different missions with Hakari and Hoshi before I figured out what type of combat worked best for them. It’s important to not be reliant on one type of fighting, it becomes a weakness if you can’t defend yourself another way. That’s why I want to oversee your mission.”

Maki still doesn’t look pleased but with the way her eyes softened you can tell she accepted your answer. 

“So how long are we waiting?” She asks.

“We’re leaving tomorrow rather than tonight,”

Panda smiles, “Oh that’s nothing! I thought we weren’t going on that mission for a few months.”

“Mustard leaf?”

“Oh it’s nothing really,” you lie but when you see the side eye that Inumaki, Panda, and Maki give you you sigh in defeat. It’s been a long enough day and you can already feel the headache coming on.

“Alright, if you must know, a family member of mine is about to pass and I want to make sure my nephew is in a good spot before we head off on the mission.”

A bird call breaks through the silence as you start to move away from the training grounds. The evening sun is slowly setting, giving reprieve from the heat of the day. 

It was rare for you to mention your family to anyone at Jujutsu High, only Yaga knew about them and even then he barely knew anything. The three students look at each other trying to search for what to say next.

Panda quietly speaks up, “You have a nephew?”

“I do,” A smile creeps onto your face as you remember your call with him earlier.

“I guess he can’t see curses then?”

“As always, you are correct Maki. He’s just. . .” you stop walking and look up trying to find the right word, “. . .human.”

A harsh tone rings out disrupting the tranquil calm. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” You hold your hand out to the three apologetically as you bring your phone up to your ear. You move away from your students walking out of their earshot but you can hear whispers of what they’re saying.

“Do you think-?” Panda starts.

“It’s possible.” Maki finishes, the three of them try their best to overhear what the conversation is.

You take a quick breath to calm your nerves as you answer the call, “Hello?”

“Hey you actually picked up for once!” You gotta be fucking kidding me-

“Gojo?” you ask exasperated.

“Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me~” his voice sings out.

You roll your eyes, “Hardly, why are you calling me?”

“Can’t I just talk to you without needing a reason?”

“No Gojo.”

“Ugh you’re no fun like this!” What did he just-? Wait, don't engage, it will only raise your blood pressure. You can hear the bustling street sounds from his end of the call.

“Aren’t you supposed to be retrieving that cursed object? You wouldn’t shut up about it at last night’s meeting.”

“I sent Megumi to retrieve it for me, although now that you mention it.” You overhear Gojo talking to a street vendor before talking to you, “It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I better call to make sure he’s okay.”

“Glad I can help you with that.” You speak with little enthusiasm. 

“Buuuuuuuut I’ll call him in a bit,” You can hear his smile, “For now I’m talking to you Sweets.”

“Satoru-” you warn.

“Which flavor of kikufuku did you want again?” He interrupts.

“What?” He can’t be serious.

“Flavor, Sweets,” Annoyed with having to repeat himself, “Which did you want?”

He is serious. Panda and Inumaki are slowly creeping closer towards you trying to be as quiet as possible but they’re failing. You’ll work on stealth training when you all get back from the mission. You take a few more steps away from them and you hear a frustrated groan out of Panda.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and mutter, “You need to get that cursed object dumbass, not sending Megumi to do your job and getting kikufuku!”

“I just wanted to be sure-” A ringtone interrupts his voice. Finally a chance to get off this call.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Your voice drips mockingly, “Someone more important is calling,”

“Wait- more important? Who’s calling you-?!”

You hang up his call without answering his question and bring your phone up with the new call, “Hello?”

“Hello is this-?”

You recognize the sound of her voice- “Yes this is she.”

“Hello Miss, I’m one of the nurses here at Sugisawa Hospital and I just wanted to call to inform you that Wasuke Itadori has passed.”

The silence that fills the air is deafening, which is surprising considering the call you just had with Gojo. Your head hangs low as a sad smile forms on your face.

“I see,” your brow furrows and wonder if Yuji was there when it happened?

“Yes, he actually was the one to alert us of it happening,” did you just say that outloud? 

“He’s even filling out some of the paperwork on your behalf as of this moment.” 

Inumaki points, “Tuna, tuna.” Panda and Maki turn to see you walking back towards them, determined.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you for the call, I’ll be on the next train to Sendai in just a few moments.” You hang up the call and look at your students. They’ve never seen this side of you. There’s a fire behind your eyes, face stern as you pocket your phone in your pocket.. 

“I’ll see you all later tomorrow when I’ll meet you on the train to Sakata. Your train is going to leave in the morning, I’ll get on at Sendai.” You tell them voice unwavering. They nod their heads and notice the small trail of cursed energy starting to build from your legs. 

“We’re sorry for your loss, Sensei.” Panda says and you smile.

“Don’t be, at least he had an honorable death.” And before they could say goodbye you’re gone.

Flashes of greenery pass by as you sprint through Japan. It’s been about a year since you’ve had to travel this long of a distance using your technique. It’s worth it to get more stamina and test your limits. 

With your technique you’re able to manipulate your own blood stream. By manipulating your blood you’re able to greatly increase the amount of oxygen your body needs for your blood cells. It’s something you learned when you were first using your technique.

With this you’re able to run much faster than any human possibly could, and that’s even without using cursed energy. You remember Gojo taking you to see some X-Men movie and he pointed to Quicksilver saying “Hey that’s just like you! Except you know he’s better cuz he doesn’t have to use cursed energy to get even faster he’s just that fast alrea-”. You punched him for that. 

The distance is starting to get to you though. After 40 minutes you reach Sendai and you’re out of your reserve of stored cursed energy. Gasping for breath, you run towards the hospital and go up the stairs to the level they kept Wasuke on. The floor is practically deserted and feels very liminal. The hum of the hospital lights and a nurse typing on a computer are the only things you can hear. 

“Pardon me,” You walk up to the nurse at the front desk, “I was told that there might be some paperwork to fill out. I’m Wasuke Itadori’s daughter-in-law.”

The nurse looks up at you and smiles. You try your best to smile back but something feels wrong; like there’s a curse nearby but you can’t feel any cursed energy. Maybe it’s the totem they use at the hospital.

“I remember seeing you here earlier today, I am sorry for your loss. Wasuke was a good man.”

You want to laugh but instead say, “Grumpy as all hell though.”

“True,” The nurse looks back at her computer and types. “So looking through the records here there’s just one thing Yuji didn’t fill out.”

“Only one?”

“Yes, do you happen to know how Mr. Itadori wanted his body to be. . .” She trails off and looks at her computer to avoid your gaze. These weren’t easy conversations to have and you can understand why she didn’t want to ask Yuji this question.

You nod solemnly, “Cremation please.”

She nods back and types it into the system, “I just need your signature.”

You sign for it and the nurse gives you one more smile, “Perfect, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” You turn to leave but quickly turn back to the nurse, “I meant to ask when I first came in, but do you happen to know where Yuji is?”

The nurse thinks for a moment, her face scrunched up in concentration. 

“If I remember correctly,” She looks at you, “Yuji was talking to someone who was wearing something similar to you; he mentioned something about curses and Yuji’s club then they left.”

Anxiety builds in your chest, so you were feeling cursed energy earlier. You need to focus.

“Thank you,” You barely say as you rush out the door. Once you get outside you start heading towards the direction of Yuji’s school or at least you think you’re heading in the right direction. You only visit during holidays and even then you’re sometimes held up due to missions.

Focus, you try your best to find a trail from the cursed object. It’s faint but it’s strong enough to follow. You imbue your run with cursed energy and make it to his school in record time. 

The school reeks of death- You can sense Fushiguro and three humans inside so as you near the gate you just hop over it, adrenaline now taking over. 

A protective sense washes over you and your cursed energy increases. You travel up the stairs skipping over every other step trying to sense where specifically these curses were. Making it to the fourth floor you can overhear, “NUE!” before the curse crashes through the walls, going outside.

You run towards the rubble and try to look out the gaping hole the curse made but you can’t see outside.

“Help-” You barely hear it due to the commotion just a few feet away from you but you see two of Yuji’s classmates, one unconscious and the other fighting to stay awake on the ground.

“I got you, don't worry.” You pick them up the best you can without causing more harm, “What are your names?”

“Setsuko Sasaki and he’s-” She chokes out a sob.

“He’s gonna be alright, focus on your breath.” You tell Sasaki and she tries her best.

“He’s Takashi Iguchi-” Sasaki whimpers before- THUMP! “You idiot-!” 

You need to get them out of here now and kill the curse that Fushiguro is dealing with.

“Alright Sasaki, I’m going to take you both to the hospital. I need you to close your eyes for me alright. It’ll only take me a minute.”

She barely nods her head and once her eyes are closed you instantly sprint them both back to the hospital you were at a mere 5 minutes ago. 

You wish you had the time to stay and make sure they would be okay but as soon as a couple nurses take them from your arms you tell them the kid’s names and you sprint back to the school.

I’m not gonna make it-

The second you return to the school, the strong cursed energy presence is gone but there’s two sources of energy coming from the school Fushiguro and. . . ? Confused, you work your way back up to where the curse broke through the wall. You can suddenly feel Gojo’s presence but that still doesn’t explain the other cursed energy output you feel. CRASH!

You step outside of the gaping hole and run up towards Fushiguro who’s holding a bag.

“Fushiguro!” As you run towards him, you notice he doesn’t seem to realize you're there. You look up towards the ongoing fight and you pale.

. . . Sukana? But-?

“Ah Sweets! I was wondering when you would show up,” Gojo says while fighting Sukana with ease. You feel like you’re going to throw up. Gojo punches Sukana away from where you and Fushiguro are. Once Sukana gains his footing he starts running towards you all.

“You Jujutsu sorcerers are always such a pain in the ass in any era!” Sukana yells out as he uses his cursed energy to destroy the ground you’re standing on. You close your eyes to brace for impact but you never feel it. As the dust settles Gojo has his hand up using his Infinity to keep you all safe. The last thing you hear is Gojo counting to 10. 

Sukana stands frozen in place and his eyes close. His head bobs right back up and you really are going to throw up. You feel like you’re underwater and can’t breathe. This cannot be happening-

“Auntie? What are you doing here-?” Gojo puts his fingers up to Yuji’s head and knocks him out.

Before Gojo could question what Yuji just said, you suddenly drop to your knees, tears welling up in your eyes.

Yuji is Sukana’s vessel. You. . .

failed.

[hystixia]

-> WRITING COMMISSIONS <-

-> if you’re interested in supporting me in any way please read below for details and prices. reblogs are appreciated and any type of help or support are appreciated as well.

i never thought i’d have to do this but my living situation has gotten increasingly worse and i am facing being potentially homeless sooner rather than later. i don’t have a job due to no sort of transportation and any money i had originally saved up has been pocketed by my parents and i am unable to get back nor am i even allowed to touch the money i did rightfully earn. so i am reaching out in this way to make some sort of money to get by and survive at this point. any type of help is greatly appreciated and i thank you for even reading this at all. it means a lot :,)

-> PAYMENT METHODS <-

my cashapp is $hystixia

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cashapp & paypal are the only ways of sending payment at the moment. these are the only options for commissioning for now.

-> COMMISSION DETAILS <-

commissions will always be open. there are no slots or deadlines to meet to get a commission. feel free to get one whenever and if u want to!! if you’re interested in commissioning please read the details below and dm me!! dms are always open for any questions during the process as well so don’t be scared to ask abt anything to do with your commission! :)

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i’m sure i’m probably missing some things as i’ve never had to do this and i’m sure this is terribly formatted and set up so i do apologize for the sloppy format :,) i do however appreciate all of you for all the support you’ve given me thus far and i am sorry for coming to u all in such a way. i never thought i’d be in this position but here we are. if you’ve read this far i thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking time to read through all of this. any type of help is appreciated whether its thru commissions, tips, reblogs or anything of the sort. i appreciate every single one of you for all you’ve given me :,) you truly have no idea the impact u’ve all left on my life since i first started writing fics on tumblr. i hope u all have a wonderful day/night wherever you are <3

[justalittlerandomartist]

Ask: this is a request you don't have to do if you don't want to, but teen! reader that wants to strike a deal with Lucifer, but with all the work he has, he asks Charlie to go instead. but when she goes there, she realizes that it's just a kid that wants to get away from her awful family. So Charlie helps her and then they get closer like siblings and then when she dies (either due to an accident or by doing it herself) they go to the hotel and there she meets everyone and bc Charlie helped her, she stays and helps out with the hotel by doing things like cooking, cleaning etc. I'm kinda rambling but I hope you get the gist.

-Anon

•Charlie Morningstar x teen! reader

•platonic, no horny

•what if…there was a kid who worked as a butler at the hotel

_______________________________________

You ran. As fast as you could. Your mom was going to send you away. Somewhere far, far away. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You were going to make a deal with Lucifer in order to have a safe space. It was the only way. You couldn’t survive in that house. You had to summon him. The only problem is that when you did summon him….

she showed up.

Charlotte Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. She helped you. She gave you a safe space, a little hole in space time that she could visit you in, and you could access without her. If only you didn’t have to go back to that dreadful home at the end of the day.

Over time, Charlie became like a sister to you. You would celebrate birthdays together, watch movies, laugh, and just be…happy. You cared about Charlie, and she cared about you. She didn’t understand why you would sell your soul, but accepted it nonetheless. But atleast if you didn’t, she wouldn’t have had a cool new younger sister.

but….on your thirteenth birthday, when she showed up with a cake….

“Y/n? Are you there? I brought you a birthday cake.”

Poor sweetheart found your suicide note on the table. She was heartbroken, but knew you would be in heaven. Oh boy, was she wrong.

When you woke up, you were in this really bright place. It was on fire, and it smelled like a bar and dried corpses. But worst of all was the way you looked. You were fluffy, with a bright pink maids dress, white fur, pink hair, a little cotton tail, and…bunny ears. YOU WERE A FREAKING BUNNY KID! That’s worse than being a spider(angel dust slander).

You tried to look at some tv’s, hoping to find a news broadcast that could tell you about this weird afterlife. Instead you saw an ad for a dumb hotel-wait. Is that Charlie? HOLY SHIT, ITS CHARLIE!

You rushed to the Hazbin Hotel as fast as you could, and you were greeted at the door by none other than Charlie herself. She scooped you into a bear hug and showed you to everyone in the hotel.

Once Charlie told you about her mission, you were eager to help. You were too young to do much though, you simply helped clean and cook. You always smiled through the work, just like your mom taught you. A smile was safe. When you smiled, you didn’t get hit.

The hotel is better with you in, you always bring in a bright atmosphere, and you cook the best meals though. Sometimes you miss your friends in the living world, but you wouldn’t want to get your new friends sad, so you kept smiled. Although, someone might see through it.

___________________ Lmao this was so rushed.

I have this and a few other fanfics saved in my drafts on my main blog so they’ll get posted there then reblogged on @thathastagbiotch bc that’s my fanfiction blog so follow that account not this one

I’m so sorry this is so late

[bitchysoulwasteland]

Jagger 2.0

Steve Rogers x reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!!

Summary: Steve has to come to terms with the dreams of his daughter, which his wife already fully supports.

A/n: OMG GUYSSSSSS It’s been so long since I’ve posted and for that I am deeply sorry, I’ve been brought some shit, but I’m better now. For all of yous who enjoy my rockstar-type stuff, you’ll probably like this one, which has been collecting dust in my drafts for absolutely ages. As always, any reblogs/reposts are appreciated, copying or posting my work to other sites without permission is not. Enjoy!!!

Not many people knew of your rockstar lineage, since most people didn’t gather that ‘Jagger’ was the last name of The Rolling Stones’ frontman. That was the beautiful thing about people. No one really listened to The Rolling Stones at any point in your high school or college careers.

You loved to perform. That was one thing you had inherited from your dad. You had your mother’s looks and his overall presence, be it onstage or just in life.

You had never made it as big as your father did, but for a few years, you were called ‘Daisy Jones’ instead of Y/n L/n and was the frontwoman of ‘Daisy Jones And The Six’. Though, that had ended prematurely after two albums due to… differences in opinions.

You were at a pretty miserable place in your life. You were drinking and doing more drugs than you could keep up with when you met Steve.

Between him and your father, they had saved you from yourself. Your father made sure that you went to a good rehab centre and Steve drove you to it.

You didn’t understand at the time why they had bothered, but you were glad they had, otherwise you wouldn’t have your daughter, Sarah Jagger-Rogers, your blonde little six year old who wanted to grow up to be a rockstar like her mother and her grandfather.

There was the problem.

Steve didn’t exactly agree on the whole Rockstar thing. He had seen what it had done to you and he had read various articles about how most Rockstars died long before their time. (Of course, he used Freddie Mercury as an example, to which you told him that he had died of AIDS related pneumonia and then proceeded not to call him for three days when he was on a mission after he still insisted that he was right.)

He didn’t want his little girl to end up like that.

Time and time again you had told him that she wouldn’t end up like that as she’d have a better support system than you or your father did. That still didn’t change his mind.

———————————————————————

Sarah and your father were in the garage (which you had converted to a recording studio during your time with ‘The Six’) playing Princess-Rockstar dress up and messing around with the drum kit, piano, guitars and various other instruments and things in there when you herd the familiar rumble of the Quinjet engines as you were just getting back from a run.

You stretched for a few moments before walking up the long driveway, meeting the Avengers at the door.

“Where’s Sarah?” Bucky asked as you all walked into the house, Steve’s arm around your waist.

“She’s in the garage with my dad. And before you say anything, Steve, you are in no position to crush a little girl’s dreams.” You give him a look before he mutters fine and goes to the garage with Bucky.

“What dream?” Clint piped up.

“She wants to be a rockstar like I was and like her grandfather is but someone is severely against it.”

Steve didn’t say anything as he walked into the garage, seeing the pair together, his heart melting. Maybe his daughter being a rockstar wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[multiheadcanons]

your posts are incredible!! i just had to read them all! how long do they typically take you? do you do them in bursts or all in one, go on average? looking forward to whatever you cook up next!! 💞

i’m so glad you reached out bc firstly i have to tell you

i have been watching you go through every single post and like and reblog them. ALL. DAY. it’s made me giddy. every time your name popped up on my notifications i was like ooooooo i got youuu hahahaha

frankly goes for everyone i watch y’all! i watch my notifications, i go through your tags and i EAT THEM UP I GOBBLE YOUR REACTIONS UP

ok now to answer: it really depends on when inspiration strikes and which mercs strike me first!

i’ll write all of my idea titles and get them saved on separate draft posts; and from there i literally go down the line of mercs from offense to defense to support bc im always really worried i’ll forget one of them. the only time i didn’t do that was with baby’s first respawn for story setup reasons— and that took me a couple of days bc i wanted to make sure i got every merc. so if i have a very specific idea for like, scout or pyro; i can use that inspiration’s momentum to get to the support class and generally complete them within the day. but if what i’m writing i initially had very specific ideas for like… engie or spy, it takes a few hours spread out over the course of a couple of days. and since i’m always working on more than one at a time, i’m generally able to get 1-2 done per day. 3 if i’m really on a roll.

medic is the only exception bc i think about him all the time and have thought about him thematically nonstop for a decade so i am always, always able to write a solid three paragraphs for him under any circumstance for any concept i can think of bc who he is to me is absolute and unquestioned. i also main medic as a player so he’s literally always on my mind bc i put in shifts on that game. it’s my second job.

heavy is a tipping point. i feel like how i personally view heavy as a character is becoming more vivid daily; so oftentimes by the time i get to heavy, who is normally smack dab in the middle of the lineup, if not a little earlier, i always get that boost to get me through the defense boys and into support, where i have a more solid grasp on how i view those characters.

snipes and demo are tipping points but not in the same way heavy is. they’re tipping points in the way that i either know them or i don’t, and when i don’t know them i absolutely can’t make it up, and i get stuck until their inspiration hits me. they give me the most grief.

and all of this doesn’t even mention that i am CONSTANTLY updating and editing my posts. i’ve changed entire paragraphs hours before the post goes live because of how quickly ideas come to me. i go through the posts currently up to see if there’s anything i could add, or take out, or change entirely, and i check each post once they’re up for grammatical errors. so even once they’re up, they’re not really done, yknow?

thanks for appreciating my headcanons! there is indeed more to come! some kooky ones, some serious ones, some fun ones!

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

WIP TITLE TAG GAME

@leatafandom This is the third time I’ve tried to make this damned post. Lol! @staff (tumblr) keeps eating my post even though it tells me it is saving my draft. Anyway, here is my list.

Please feel free to ask any questions about any of the docs by file name either by comment, reblog, or ask. Thank you!

Winchesters A Life in the Hunter House

(Hades — Tartarus) The Empty’s Daughter

#99 prompt

#99.2 prompt

A Father’s Daughter

Alec M x Reader Crush

Alec x Reader 2

All around me 2.0 (Slow Burn)

Alpha Angel Cas x Omega!Witch!F! Reader

Alpha! Dean x Omega F!

Alpha Dr Castiel Alpha Dean sinus problems true mates

An Angel’s Unexpected Companion

Angst Reader Hurt/Comfort wHappy unexpected ending

Ao3 2023 Kinktober

Ao3 Romancing the Hunter

Ao3 Xmes Exchange Quicky 2023

Ask Request 2024-02-28 Beau x Reader

Ask Request 2024-05-31 Sam Wesson x Gabriel

Ask Request 2024-06-12 Billy Butcher x m/ftm

Ask Request 2024-06-13 Dean or Jensen x Older F! Reader

Ask Request 2024-06-29 Sam x Methos

Ask Request 2024-07-02 FicFacers 2024 (Oct due date)

AU - BDSM Dom Cas Switch/Dom Dean x Sub Fem

Bankers, Fairies, and Foreclosures, Oh my! (From @writing-prompt-s)

Being a sex god isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

Blood in Heaven and Hell - Alex Drabble - Making a boring chore a little more fun together

Blood in Heaven and Hell - Boredom WIP

Blood in Heaven and Hell - Disassociation 2

Blood in Heaven and Hell - Timestamp.2 Horror Movie

Burning Up

Destiel Date Night

Destiel Rabbit Moth Love Story

Domestic Destiel #? Glowy Angel seduction

Dragon Cas x Dean Plot (Giant and Pet meme)

Falling in love with Angel ORIGINAL

God-made Nephilim Rescues Castiel

Guardian of Humanity scene Drabble

Guardian of Humanity journal and scene

Heat

Ignoring the Alpha’s Voice

Ignoring Their Omega

Imagine Dean comes home after a bad day. (from @harmonity-vibes)

Nephilim of Stone

Post 15x19 DestielxAlex

Purpose

Rough time with your mental illness 2.0 (from @imaginethatsupernatural )

Scent Out, Make Out

Sick Stubborn Reader x Angel Cas

Soldier Boy x Flirty Reader

Spn Fairy Tales: The Ugly Duckling, a Destiel story (inspired by @fledglinginatrenchcoat-blog)

Spn poly Drabble 2023-08-30

SPNBB…

Sugar Daddy Horseman Death x Lucifer

Tell Me No Lies

Tell Me No Lies 2.0 (Nightingale Witch)

The Angel’s Mate 2.0

The Fluffstiel Bang 2024 — Story

The Fluffstiel Bang 2024 — Story 2.0

The Omega

The Packless, no longer less —Bad Day (Becoming the Pack Alpha's Mate)

The Packless, no longer less SERIES

The Virus ORIGINAL

They don’t know when to quit

Trigger Warning

True Mate A/B/O DestielxAfab

Two Men and the Virgin

Warming Him Up

Winchester!Sister x Castiel

I’m gonna go a step beyond because I can. I am going to advise WIPs in my TUMBLR DRAFTS too. This will include the date, title or inspiration, and pairing if I have one.

Jul 2 - Moth to A Flame, Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Feb 29 - “Could you tell me another story while we drive to our destination, (Y/N)?” from @imaginethatsupernatural

Aug 20, 2022 - Angel!Castiel x Hunter!Reader (GN)

Jul 15, 2022 - Sub/Switch!Bi!Dean Winchester x Sub!F!Reader x Dom!Bi!Castiel

Just realized I didn’t tag anyone. Lol! Of course, no pressure. Only if you have time. 😊 ❤️❤️❤️ @luci-in-trenchcoats @zationao3 @riley-phoenix @lotus820 @impala-dreamer @spnexploration @destielshipper4cas @sharkfish @niche-pastiche @wisteria-lodge @naughtystiel

[crazyw3irdo]

hi, I just want to ask; What compelled you to make that Romeo and Juliet quiz

i’d wanted to make a r&j personality quiz for a bit- hell, when i opened uquiz to make it i realized i already had a drafted version saved over a year ago, but it had no questions, just the title. i considered making it like, a normal quiz, but… i didn’t think anyone would really get it y’know? it’d probably be seen by a couple people, be just some random quiz, and everyone would move on.

i love romeo and juliet, and i want other people to too. if i made it normal, only people who already liked it would get it. i reblogged my original post with some tags of people reacting to it pretty quick too, to try and show yknow, it’s more than what it says on the tin, because i figured if i’m some random person whose only understanding of r&j is pop culture stuff, i’m not gonna click on a personality quiz for it. there’s only like, two characters anyone knows, and unfortunately the common perception of them is just stupid teenagers.

thing is, i had no ideas for questions for a while. none at all. the other day, though, i remembered that post circulating that was a screenshot of a quiz someone made where, iirc, the question was “you are orpheus” and the only option was “turn around.” and the idea popped into my head immediately for “do you believe in free will” with the only option being “no.” going only off that idea i rode the hyperfixation and created that quiz! i made the questions in whatever order and then rearranged them so that they got… for lack of a better term, worse as they went on.

oh, and two things i haven’t yet mentioned! first off, i was gonna include an obligatory song lyric question at first, but uh… i could only come up with two answers lol. they were “it ain’t about all the friends you made but the graffiti they write on your grave” for mercutio and “raised in the city in the halo of lights product of war and fear that we’ve been victimized” for tybalt.

the other thing is uh. i thought the quiz was funny lol. like some heavy themes and stuff but the free will question was hilarious to me lol. idk ive just… never really been bothered by whether it’s A Thing or not? the way i see it is: if we have it, then great! we can do whatever! if we don’t have it, then whatever! we’ll be doing stuff anyways! as for the character descriptions and things, i literally was just describing the characters in second person and changing some things to be more generic (i.e. changing “she” to “they” in the nurse’s description so that instead of referring to juliet it could be about anyone)

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #128 - Twenty-Minute Tuesday #14

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

I said it was getting easier, but I suppose I lied. Nothing could make it any easier, seeing you drift away into the currents, sitting powerless on the beach covered in sweat and sand and flakes of dry kelp. A sand flea jumps onto my legs and I brush it off. I want to see you for as long as I can. But my glasses are smudged and you are far away. I take a handful of sand and it is warm like you were. We never had a chance.

You float over the horizon. Gone. I let the tears out now, but I stifle my sobbing. This is not my beach. I don’t belong here. I will not sour this day for anyone else. I wipe away what I can with the back of my wrist - I don’t want sand in my eyes, don’t want this beach to become a part of me. I don’t want this to be my life, staring at sand and saltwater searching for you in everything I see, wishing you were here.

But oh, I already do. And for so long I already have. I have seen you in every flower, every painting, every note on my piano or my guitar, and there is no rest for the woozy when I take another hit to sleep. I’m off-beat, off-rhythm, off-gassing, decaying, and why is that when I am the one who’s still here?

Rip me apart like one of your French crullers, consume me, I want to be part of you; if you are gone then I am, too. The stream bends from my consciousness and I drift off from your memory, laughing at the tragedies on TV until this waking presence escapes me and I forget for a moment what I am: pathetic; the one who wanted to save the world and failed to save you.

[starry-eyer]

Hi this is my main account. It’s my sideblog you blocked, daenerysstormreborn, not my main. Or at least I think you did because I tried to start a response to you on my post re: Rhaegar and Elia and why people talk about Rhaegar’s role in her death versus Tywin, Amory, and Gregor. Maybe it was an actual tumblr glitch and not really being blocked but I started a response and when I tried to save it as a draft, I got the post failed notification, which is usually a sign of being blocked. Which was surprising because you also said you liked the post and respected the neutral tone (and I do try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt! I understand why Rhaegar fans would be frustrated if they only saw him being villainized when, between him, Aerys, Tywin, Gregor, and Amory, he is the LEAST responsible for the deaths of Elia and her kids). So maybe it was actually a tumblr glitch but I didn’t want to test it because it’s frustrating to write up a long response, try to reblog or save a draft, and then find out you’ve been blocked and thus lose literally everything you wrote.

You made great points and I thought you were very fair! I wish people could debate more in this fandom with respect for each other. I follow many different blogs that post things I don’t always agree with. Some even hate characters and ships I love or love characters and ships I hate! As long as a blogger shares SOME favorites and posts SOME things I like and agree with, I like to engage to get a good diversity of opinions and interpretations of things!

i thought you were talking about ur main bc i haven’t blocked ur sideblog. i’ll have to check my settings to see if i have something switched off 🤔

tbh i rarely encounter people who at least attempt to discuss rhaegar in a meaningful manner so i’m quite happy that you’ve taken the time to try to work around whatever’s going on with the reblogs.

i said this before, but i’m more of a blocker myself (mostly for my mental health), however, i really respect your decision to engage with more points of view :)