#but i mean even then it’s like. Not everyone can leave | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudcountry · 2 days

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Hello, if requests are open, can I request Idia with fem!reader were they both are trying to confess to each other but something always goes wrong were they can’t do it and it becomes so painfully obvious for everyone else to the point they lock them up and get them to confess to each other ending in fluff? ❤️

SUMMARY: 2 times you and idia tried to confess to each other and the one time it worked. (she/her pronouns used for reader, she is referred to as "miss" a lot)

COMMENTS: THIS IS SO CUTE <333 i may love writing married idia but flustered and pining and nervous idia is just as good ╰(*°▽°*)╯

as always if you see typos no you dont i tried to proofread this but i am literally so tired today was MESSYYYY

This is the seventh time you’ve walked past him.

Idia twists his hair into knots and snarls, eyes shifting as you pass his table, and he catches your eye as you walk away. You’ve been staring at him too? Does he have something on his face? Shoulders hunched, he tries to shrink into his hoodie, grasping at security in whatever form he can find it.

Azul’s eyes are following you too, his gaze sharp and calculated.

“She seems to be going to the bathroom a lot. And rather quickly too.” he drawls, watching as you leave the board game club again.

Idia mumbles something Azul can’t hear in response. Azul doesn’t bother asking what he said because you walk in again, and he notices how you look more and more anxious every time. Just like before, you make a beeline for the table where Idia sits, right across from Azul, but the second you get close enough you serve and speed walk right past him.

It’s funny to see how panicked Idia is getting.

But Azul is nothing if not benevolent.

He calls your name as you start walking back towards them, lips pursued like you’re seconds away from blurting something out.

You and Idia both jump, and Azul holds back a laugh.

“Y...Yes?” you squeak, eyes wide like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Azul’s eyes slide over to Idia and—sure enough, his hair is turning pink at the ends.

“Did you want something with Idia?” he asks politely, “I can’t help but notice you seem to be...well, pardon my bluntness, but you’re circling him like a shark.”

Subtilty is the word that Idia’s eyes seem to scream at him, wide and unbelieving.

You look like you want to run out of there but apparently decide against it.

“Um...I mean, if you’re asking...” you duck your head and pull out the chair next to Idia, sitting down, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Azul takes that as his cue to leave, presenting the two of you (mostly Idia, who is non verbally begging him not to leave him here) with a bright businessman smile. He positions himself behind a row of desks with his other clubmates where he can comfortably eavesdrop on your conversation without looking.

“I was wondering if you wanted to do something.” you fumble with your words.

“Um, something?” Idia asks, fumbling just as hard.

Great Seven, you two are awful speakers. It almost makes Azul want to get in on this and make it easier for you two to understand each other—

“Yeah, uh...” you start speaking again, softer, “Would you like to go on a—”

The doors to the club burst open and a gray blur flies through the room, launching itself at you. Before Azul even has the time to facepalm at how much of a failure that conversation was, Grim laughs triumphantly as he scales your body. Idia’s attention has been captured by the feline who perches himself on your shoulder, looking smugger than Idia when he wins a game.

“Henchhuman! You haven’t brought me my afternoon tuna! I’m hungry!” he yowls, pawing at your face.

Azul watches in disappointment as the both of you focus your attention on Grim instead of keeping it on each other.

“Um...Mr. Grim, I have some cat treats here if you want some...” Idia mumbles, pulling a bag of them out of his pocket.

Grim pounces on him, launching off of your shoulder as fast as he got there. Idia looks elated to have the direbeast sitting smug in his lap, snatching treats right out of his hand. Azul shifts his focus to you and oh—

He has never seen anyone look at Idia the way you do. Your brow is furrowed softly, tilting downwards towards your nose, Your eyes are crinkled at the corners and your lips are pulled into the most lovestruck smile he’s ever seen. You’re resting your chin on your hand and you’ve never looked more comfortable.

You look like you could stare at him forever.

You don’t know how you’ve done it (and honestly, Idia isn’t sure either) but you’ve made it to Idia’s room. You’re lazing on his bed, a bag of gummy worms in your lap as you stare at the ceiling, having abandoned your phone a few minutes ago. Mouse clicking and keyboard tapping are the only sounds in the room now, aside from Idia’s almost silent air conditioning unit to keep his PCs in top shape.

You’re thankful his room is cool. It’s a nice contrast to the unregulated temperature in Ramshackle.

“GG! You should have leveled up more before you challenged me!” he gloats, giggling madly as a bright red VICTORY crosses his monitor screen.

He really does brag a lot when it comes to games, you’ve noticed. You’re turning to watch him play before you know it, popping gummy worm after gummy worm into your mouth as he starts another round. It’s nice watching him play, he seems more authentic here than he does in class. It’s like his nerves melt away in the realm of his interests and you’re so thankful for it.

“You’re watching!?” Idia yelps, and that’s when you snap back into reality with your hand wrist deep in an empty gummy worms bag.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” you say dumbly, breaking eye contact faster than Grim running toward a can of tuna, “Is that bad?”

“N...No, not really. I just didn’t expect...that.” he mumbles.

He didn’t expect you to be staring so intently.

The second VICTORY screen of the night fades away, and the room feels even quieter.

Not for Idia though, whose heart is pounding in his ears.

Should he go for it...? Fuck it, post-win adrenaline is his best friend.

“Um, hey. So, Miss, um...” he fidgets with his own fingers, twisting and wringing them as he plucks up the courage to say something, anything—

“Yes?” you look hopeful, perking up at his voice and it gives him the incentive to just go for it—

“Would you like to go out—”

“Idia, I’m home!”

The door to his room swings open and Ortho flies in, hovering an inch off the floor. He looks taken aback when he sees you, eyes wide and excited.

“You didn’t tell me we had guests over!” Ortho chirps, waving at you enthusiastically, “Hi, Miss!”

You wave back shyly, trying your best to hide your disappointment that Idia couldn’t finish his sentence. Idia’s hair is flickering pink again, but this time there are hints of orange and you wonder what he’s mad at.

If you had to guess, based on his expression, you’d say he was mad at himself.

After the events of last night, this is not how you expected your day to play out.

You’d decided that you were going to confess to Idia once and for all, even practicing in front of the mirror to make sure you didn’t look too awkward or sound too weird.

You’d prepared him a gummy bouquet, since he loves colorful candy so much, and had even made a blanket fort back at Ramshackle so you’d have an excuse to invite him over (and so you’d put too much effort into it to back out.)

And now all of that was up in smoke because someone (or someones) had locked you in a storage closet with him, not without shouting a cheerful ”make sure you tell each other what you’ve wanted to say for a while now!

You’d been trapped for about five minutes now.

Idia was inconsolable, rocking back and forth on the floor next to you as his fiery hair glowed bright pink. It made you nervous to know just how flustered he was about the whole thing, especially with the knowledge that he also had something to tell you.

Something he’d been thinking about for a while now.

...Maybe, just maybe, you should go first.

Steeling your nerves, you scoot closer to him and whisper his name. He stops rocking and peaks up at you, waiting.

“Idia, I’m sorry you got locked in here because of me. I had a whole thing planned because I wanted to make this special but it seems the universe plotted against us.” you squeeze your hands in your lap and clamp your eyes shut, refusing to look as you force your next words out, “Truth is, I like you and I’ve liked you for a while now, I’ve always wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how you would take it because I think a friend would be more important to you and I’m sorry for springing this on you now but this is how I feel and if you never want to see me again I get it. That would suck though.”

What were you saying!?

Beyond your closed eyelids, a burst of something bright lights up your (lack of) vision with a flash of red.

“There’s no way this is real!” Idia yells, and it’s so loud it almost scares you.

You jolt back, eyes flying open and his hair is so bright,fanning out through the closet and sparking in its soft pink glory. He’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head, face red and eyes wide.

“I mean, this is like...this is like...” he grabs at his scalp, breathing heavily, “This is like your favorite character’s SSR coming home on your first single pull! Not even a tenfold summon! This is like your favorite event getting a rerun! There’s no way this is real!”

He snaps his gaze over to you, finally making eye contact. You’re shrinking in on himself, mind whirling at his rambling but noting that it’s all positive.

“Are you serious? You like me? Why!?” he screeches, voice cracking with his frantic he is, “You’re like...you’re so kind! And pretty—no, hold on—I mean yes you are! I mean—”

He covers his face with his hands and screams.

You can feel your face warming up, and the dopey grin spreading across your face.

“I can tell you all the things I like about you when you say it back.” you say softly, aiming to calm him down from his wound up state.

Idia wheezes, shaking and sparking and rocking again on the floor.

“Give me a second...critical hit... I need a healer...Miss, that was a killer blow...” he mumbles under his breath, talking about hitboxes and your buffs.

Whatever makes him more comfortable.

“Is this a joke?” he asks suddenly, jolting up from his crouched position.

“Why would it be a joke?” you frown, “You think I gathered up all my nerves and made you two surprises so I could invite you over after I confessed today to pull a prank on you?”

“I just can’t believe it.” Idia’s head falls back on his knees, and he goes back to mumbling, "You're...you're literally perfect."

It doesn’t seem like you’ll be getting a straightforward answer out of him soon...

But as the closet door finally swings open and you see Azul and Ortho, you’re one hundred percent sure you can wait.

#auburn's fics <3 #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud fluff #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #twisted wonderland fluff #fem reader

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cuckette · 19 hours

Text

YOU JUST CAN’T TELL !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. pornstar!leon, corny ugh, smut, daddy-daughter incest, mentions of rough sex, barebacking waheyyy, corny corny corny, anticlimactic

note. HAPPY BELATED FATHERS DAY TO LEON KENNEDY WORST AND BEST DAD EVER!!! title from my michelle purely for the opening line LMFAO I hate this.. but I wanted it gone from my mind so I can move onnnn um rbs and nice words appreciated 💪

all I’m saying is idgaf if u think leon is pure American 1998 leon is Irish-Italian and he’s tan in di trust me anyway I really don’t like this so please refrain from any criticism I usually don’t mind it but um 😳 I’m too insecure ab this fic bc it’s corny and ignore mistakes :3 thank u to anon who paid me to finish this :3 um again readers personality changes so fast pls ignore all the corny stuff n inconsistencies kind of reads like my aita fic 😓

The basement is where you and Rose end up after dressing up all pretty for a night on the town. Only the dank walls and the scuttling critters are able to see how cute your getup is. Another outfit wasted ‘cause your dad is more than wasted in the lounge.

“Your dad is, like, a dick.” Rose plops down on one of the two blue bean bags you have to decorate this infinitely grey and murky room. An old television you’ve never bothered to work sits atop a pile of books you’re sure dad has never read.

“He’s not a dick, he’s being sensible,” you tell her, kicking off your heels in a heap near the basement stairs.

“He’s a drunk, ugh.” She kicks her feet in the air. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“He’s not a drunk.”

“An alcoholic then.”

“Okay, well, not everyone can be like your dad, Rose.” Your dad is a present deadbeat if those exist. He’s laid-back, sleazy and lazy—An asshole essentially, and when he’s not an asshole, he’s a cunt.

You’re being quite harsh on him nothing your dad does is intentional—Leon’s kept you alive over these past years, he’s not shy when it comes to affection and I love yous, but by god can that man drink.

You knew him as a baby, but babies don’t really know anyone unless they’re eye level with the breasts they suckle from. Then they know that’s mommy.

Like, you never had to spend more than a few days with him up until about three years ago. Mom moved on with her boyfriend, which meant that you were no longer a part of her story. Which you understand. Mom was great. Until the kids at school pointed it out, you never thought about how your dad was never around, she didn’t need to fill shoes that hadn’t been there in the first place. You didn’t need a dad. Never have, and you thought you never would.

As a child, Christmas, birthdays and the odd vacation were the only times you saw Dad. He was alright. Nothing to write home about. Put you on his shoulders when you asked, he tucked you into bed when he remembered and once he let you take a sip of whiskey when mom turned her head.

When Leon got drunk, that was another story. He got touchy-feely with mom and he pinched your cheeks too hard and got sappy about the life he could’ve had. Then you would hear him grovelling at her feet in the other room.

Baby, baby, please. You know it didn’t mean anything. She was a co-worker, you know what I do—It never means anything, why can’t you understand that?

And anytime he did that, mom would pack your bags that night and leave the following morning with you in tow.

Your aunt Sherry, she’s always been the apple of Leon’s eye. Now that she’s grown up, has been for ages, out in the big bad world, married, you think dad lets you stay with him as a sort of placeholder.

“Well, duh.” Rose beams at the slightest mention of her dad, and you wish you could do the same.

Your dad brings to mind the clammy awkwardness of a first date. Does that even make sense? Something about him has always just been off. Like, like, the colour of the walls. Cream. Not white. He’s accidental anal as a human being, y’know, those stupid Oopsy! My dick slipped into the wrong hole, but I’m going to keep going! videos. Yeah, that’s what your dad is. There’s no other way to put it.

“Bad haircut too, makes him look like a lady,” Rose says, staring and frowning at the TV so hard she might make it move. “Y’know, like those moms who show up to, like, everything and ruin everything.”

“Your dad is balding, Rose.” You point out, picking at your skin because it’s quite literally the most interesting activity there is to do.

“At least my dad drives us places.”

“You’re eighteen, you should’ve learnt how to drive years ago.”

“You’re nineteen, you should’ve learnt aeons ago.”

You face away from one another.

Your dress feels too tight all of a sudden.

“I’m sorryyy, Rose.”

She kisses her teeth, then shrugs. “It’s whatever.”

“Let’s just… I don’t know…” You look around at the smoke cloud that has dispersed into four walls, at the gunmetal floors that leave your feet sticky, at that silver screen. “Put on a movie.”

“Does it even work?” Rose gets up to kick the piece of junk, it rattles and she picks up the remote, clicking any and all of the buttons.

“Wait, wait, I think we have to, like, put something in it.” You crawl towards one of the many unmarked boxes that are laden thick with dust, really brings the colour scheme in this place together. Makes the endless grey pop. There’s no luck with the first few, they’re full of old clothes and pots and pans and things you couldn’t care less about.

Then you hit the jackpot. Enough tapes to re-open a Blockbuster.

Rose crouches down beside you. “There’s tons, holy shit.”

“I know… I know, I just feel guilty touching dad’s things.”

“Who gives a fuck?” She takes the tape marked Racoon City in black marker out, then she feeds it into the VHS player. “He won’t notice.”

The TV crackles, grey like everything else, and then it comes to life in dingy blues and grey greens. A red title card pops up.

RESIDENT EVIL : RACCOON CITY

NIGHT OF THE FUCKING DEAD

Rose drags her bean bag closer to the screen, and you follow. “What is this, like, some old zombie movie?”

“What do you fucking think—Hey, that’s my dad!” You point a finger at the TV when he shows up twenty years younger, copper hair hanging limply around his face as the rain pours.

“Oh, ew.” She grimaces. “He was even uglier back then.”

“I think he looks sweet.” All long legs and the sort of face that makes you wonder whether it’s high-fashion or a severe case of anorexia. His cheekbones gleam in the red-blue lights—something about cops is so American, even the lights are the colour of the flag—taking cautious steps towards a dark alley with a hand on his holster, ready to take out his gun when needed.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna die,” Rose groans, wiping a hand across her face, “what a moron.”

In the dark, as Leon’s back bumps the brick wall, a figure emerges from the dark in typical George Romero zombie fashion, staggering towards your dad and making all sorts of ghoulish noises.

“Hey! Stay back, put your hands in the air where I can see them!” The audio is tinny, but that’s dad alright.

“He’s an idiot, like, actually.” Rose’s commentary keeps you from immersing fully.

“Why is she dressed like that?” You ask when the zombie comes into view, her face is made up in perfect splotches of green and grey and purple, false lashes so thick you bet she can’t see a thing. Type of lashes you wear before you get a facial.

A trail of a sticky white liquid drips down the corner of her mouth. You assume it’s spit. Rabies gone wild. Her denim shorts are cut above the crease of her ass cheeks, splattered in more sticky fluid, and her tank is torn across her perky tits in a very deliberate manner, enough to bare the fat, but hiding the areolas.

“Nineties, man.” Rose shrugs.

“Ma’am!” Your dad says, his tone urgent, “Please stay where you are or I’ll have to shoot!”

The zombie just goes ughhhhhhh and guhhhhh as she slow-walks right into his chest, then she says, “Diiiick.”

And you make the same face your dad does on screen.

Before you can stop the meteoroid from blowing your world into a million tiny pieces, she drops down on her knees in a zombified manner and tugs down his pants, his fat cock knocking her cheek and his heavy balls weighing the whole shaft down.

“No fucking way!” Rose leans forward in her seat beside you.

You grab her arm and gasp, “Turn it off—Turn it off—Rose, turn it off! Oh my god, how do you pause this fucking thing?”

Cursive font pops up beside his face, head tipped back as he gets his dick eaten by this zombie bimbo.

LEON S. KENNEDY, ITALIAN STALLION.

Rose laughs. Her night is going great, all fine and dandy, she doesn’t have to watch her dad’s eyes roll to the back of his head. “Your dad's Italian?”

“Shit, Rose, I don’t fucking know.” The panic in your belly settles when you find a stop button. “Oh my god, just, just go home!”

“You’re seriously mad at me?” Rose crosses her arms and refuses to budge an inch, in fact, she makes herself comfy. “It’s not my fault your dad is a pornstar.” No, but it is her fault you found out your father is a pornstar with a very extensive resume.

“Shut up! Shut up.” You cover her mouth with your palm. “He might hear you, shut up, okay?”

“Okay, okay, calm down.” She brushes you off like this is not the worst thing that could possibly ever happen to you, like, ever. Worse than a broken nail, worse than snagging your tights and worse than being murdered and never found. Rose is so insensitive and uncaring sometimes, most things come as an afterthought to her. “Let’s watch the rest.”

“Are you fucking—Rose, are you fucking with me?” Disgust coils in your stomach like a fat python, sluggish with its latest meal.

“No? I think it’ll be fun,” she says, dead serious, “we can skip all the, like, actual porn.”

“The whole thing is actual porn, Rose.”

“C’monnn, we can sleep at mine next week, get dad to take us wherever we want.”

You don’t know how she ropes you into these things. How she gets underneath your skin like an invisible mite of some sort. How she sits your ass down and forces you to watch your dad make his way through a horde of dick-crazed zombie girls.

(At this point, you could probably opt out, but you’re in too deep.)

A single shot rings out, and in all her glory, red shorts so tight it gives her a camel toe, Auntie Claire comes to save the day and you feel lightheaded.

“No—No, no I can’t do this, turn it off, Rose…” You cover your face, and then proceed to watch through the gaps in your fingers as they make cheesy conversation in flirty voices—Oh, Aunt Claire, you don’t deserve any of this.

Your dad fucks her against the wall, she braces her hands on the crumbling brick and tries to look like she’s enjoying it, but you can tell she’s not feeling it. Well. She’s probably feeling his cock, but you doubt she’s liking it.

“I thought she was a lesbian.”

“She is!” Your bottom lip trembles. “This is so sick, Rose, I can’t watch it anymore.”

They traverse the halls of a seemingly abandoned police station on screen then proceed to suck and fuck in almost every room. They continue, something about a D-virus and a G-spot virus and there’s an immaculately dressed woman who steps out of the shadows a good hour into the film.

Yeah, you have been sitting here watching your father eat pussy and push his dick into whatever rotting zombie ass sticks itself in the air for an entire hour. You’re not proud of it.

She slots into the trite plot as a femme fatale, in her bodycon dress and click-clacky heels. According to the on-screen text, this is a lady named Ada Wong, she's too pretty to be doing this. To be saying this.

How big is that gun, officer? Oh, I think you should body search me, officer—Really, you should do a cavity check. You must have no idea what I'm hiding, right? Those handcuffs should be put to use, no? After all, you can’t trust me, officer.

“I can’t watch it anymore, Rose,” you tell her again, “I’m serious, I feel fucking sick.” It’s too much, watching Leon lay back as she sits on his dick, he groans when she manages to take all of it. The camera is focused on her ass. How it ripples when it smacks against his thighs, how it looks when he reaches around to grab at it, jiggling the fat like a fucking pervert.

Leon turns her over, her tits hanging so low her nipples brush the ground and tells Ada he’s arresting her. Pushes his dick into her ass. Just like that. He pulls her hair and she lets him. Though, something in her eyes tells you that she’s not one to take it like a dog, that this is purely for male convenience.

You turn it off, and you dry heave for a minute flat.

“We didn’t get to see the ending!” Rose shoves you in the shoulder, and her investment in this shitty porno is so genuine it brings you to tears. Because what the fuck is wrong with her? What if that was her dad—Well, no, anyone would be mortified at that. Nobody wants to see Mr. Winters with his dick out.

“Fuck you, Rose, you can watch that shit at home if you want it that bad.”

You usher her up the stairs and push her out the door, throwing her duffel bag out too. Then you shut it in her face, graced with a moue, left to ponder in the echoing space of her confusion.

Dad is snoring on the couch, you tuck him under a blanket and clear the beer cans on the coffee table into a trash bag. You leave for your bedroom, then something awful gnaws at your insides, you squeeze your fists so tight they feel like they’re no longer there.

You head back into the basement, you bust out the rest of those tapes and you watch them like a girl possessed. Maybe it’s some attempt to get closer to him. Maybe Freud was right. Maybe it’s the inherently grotesque nature of the human mind that encourages you to watch Operation Javier where your dad gets split open by some big ol’ military man twice the size of him.

He gets put on his front, arches like a cat and digs his nails into the dirt as Krauser pushes into him. Then it’s on his back, legs dangling helplessly over broad shoulders and then Leon is lifted into the air like a ragdoll and you think he sobs. His form is beautiful, no notes.

Dad looks cuter in that one like he’s grown into his face and his body has started to fill out. His dick bobs uselessly as his clothes are folded while he’s still in them. Christ, by the end of it he’s coughing up cum and you think a little comes out his nose. Krauser holds him up in the air and Leon brings his hands down to spread his cheeks to show off his puffy hole, dripping another thick load. When he’s told to push out, you think he might prolapse.

You wonder why you didn’t get that ass of his.

“Oh… Auntie Ashley, no…” You always thought she had pornstar tits, but you had enough tact to keep it to yourself. She lets him fuck her tits, ballistics you think he called them, then he pulls her hair so hard she cries, uses it to drag her around, knees marked by the dirty ground, forces her mouth down on his dick.

It’s the best Leon has ever looked, you think it’s a shame that dad looks the way he does now. You thought he was meant to be saving Ashley, so why is he fucking her half to death? There’s a Spanish man who looks like he’s off the front cover of a bodice ripper, the military man is back and so is Ada.

You learn a lot about sex positions that shouldn’t exist from this one. You learn a lot about threesomes and foursomes and fivesomes. Long story short, Auntie Ashley gets a train ran on her and takes it like a champ.

“Oh, gosh, Leon… Wow…” Ashley twirls her hair as she watches Leon take the entirety of Krauser’s cock in his mouth. Actual fucking behemoth. Then they both suck on it together, they play with his balls and make out with his shaft. Leon helps Ashley sit on it and she moans so loud you scramble to turn the volume down.

At the banal end, they ride off into the sunset, but of course—It can't be over yet. Ashley offers overtime, and Leon accepts, then he twists her like a pretzel and puts her in reverse pile driver, his balls slap against her clit and your Aunt’s voice grates on you as she squirts around his dick for what could be the tenth or fiftieth time. She could die from dehydration, the poor thing. You think her pussy is really cute, but you’ll take that thought to the grave.

You watch the one named Damnation, where your dad looks at Ada like a boy who hasn’t quite gotten over his first love. He fucks a Russian man hard and the Russian man fucks him back harder. Body shots ensue. There’s another feature-length one with a lady named Helena who's tits sit pretty. Dad looks rough in Vendetta - it isn’t memorable. Domme Island is alright. Shit name, hot lady who fucks him into next week, his eyes roll so far back into his skull you think there’s a clunk. She locks her legs around his neck and forces his nose so deep into her cunt he’ll be wearing her pussy as perfume for weeks.

Now it all starts to make sense, it clicks into place like a seatbelt. Your dad is a washed-up pornstar. Of course he is. Oh, you understand everything now.

You don’t know what to make of this. Don’t know what to say or feel or do. Each time you descend the steps and submerge into the grey, you’re consumed by another round of mind-numbing porn. You put it down to morbid fascination. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all there is to it.

The ache between your thighs is only natural, that’s what happens when you watch porn for hours on end, some part of it is bound to turn you on.

Dad’s porn career was ten years too long, a quick Google search tells you he only retired three years ago, around about the same time your visit turned into a roommate situation.

Some of his most recent videos are plain, to say the least, gone are the cop uniforms that were store-bought Halloween costumes, the action movie sets are swapped out for suave hotel rooms and houses you see on real estate websites. Like they’ve been furnished purely to provide surfaces to fuck on.

Before you can help it, before your brain is able to put a stop to your constant stream of bad decisions, before you’re even able to process the tags, you click on it.

The intro is a shitty logo flashing across the screen and then a split screen of multiple women being fucked in painful positions, cunts gaping, mouths hanging open and dicks big and hard enough to break through concrete.

It fades, and your dad appears on screen grabbing a pretty little thing that couldn’t be a day over twenty-one by her curly pigtails, sporting tits bigger than her head and a shaved pink pussy. He says something ‘bout how her pussy gets wet the second she sees a grey hair, spreads her legs for any old man, oh it doesn’t matter what he looks like as long as he’s been put through the wringer. The cock carousel.

(She’s just like you.)

Naturally, she sticks her ass out and says Yes, daddy! in an awful papery voice. When she moves to kiss Leon, you notice his sickening choice of facial hair. Who in the fuck told him that was okay? The moustache is more disturbing than any of this. Jesus Christ, it’s more jarring than seeing his dick.

You won’t take a dick a day under forty—What would your old man think, huh? Can’t even say that word around you can I? Hm? Haven’t even put it in yet and you’re goin’ stupid, baby.

Screw dad and screw this bitch with her stupid, fake, barely legal tits and her migrating lip filler and her veneers and her hairless legs and her grabbable little waist—

“Pumpkin, the Jehovahs came knockin’ again, that’s the second time this week, you didn’t take anything from them did you?” Dad, without his moustache, with his cock neatly tucked away in the depths of those sweats, opens your door.

Where does he put that shit? Up his ass?

While she’s busy shaking her stupid teen titties at dad on-screen, you slam the lid of your laptop shut and give him a plastic smile. “At least they knock, dad.”

“Don’t need to knock, my house,” Leon retorts, childish as ever, he’s changed for the worse ever since you forced him to take his meds regularly. You regret it - trying to whip him into shape. Maybe your daddy started drinking to deal with the weight of his own ego.

“My room,” you point out, when you shift you’re made aware of the wet between your thighs, panties sticking to your core.

“Okay, but you’re my kid.” He puts a leaflet on your side table and sits next to you. “I gotta check on you, what if you're kissing boys up here? Could take the door off its hinges if I wanted to.”

He has the face for porn, you note.

(And the dick for it.)

“I’m your kid now?” It’s hard to act like everything is fine when he’s beside you, a soft hand that has groped so many teen tits settling on your stomach, so you close your eyes and focus on the ripple of light in the dark of your eyelids.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dad takes his hand back, a small mercy.

“I’m your maid when your friends come over, and last time I checked I was your girlfriend when the landlord came over.” God, that’s so messed up. He’s so fucked up and your pussy is so wet. He hasn’t even done anything and that’s the problem. If Dad stepped up, if he tried to be a real dad, if he got out of porn young and he threw away those tapes, maybe you would have a shot at being mentally sound.

“She wouldn’t get off my back,” Leon argues, a vague scowl lining his lips, “had to do it.”

The landlord is an older lady with a severe face and a forward way of speaking. You’ve caught dad with a hand up her skirt, but he says she pushes it on him.

“You should be nice to her, might get to live here for free.”

“Doubt that, she’d take me and my money,” he muses, pressing his face into your neck. Dad is like a cat, he comes to you when you need it the least, he quietly begs for affection when you don’t have the time to give it.

“You need to shave,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch your stilted breath when he drags his scratchy cheek over your soft skin.

“Look awful when I shave,” Dad mumbles into your neck, “don’t it feel good?”

Why is that hot? Everything sounds good when your pussy is wet. “No, it tickles… Can you go now, please?”

“Why?” His eyes plead with you, and you pet his head to appease his neediness. “I’m spending time with my daughter.”

“Okay, and your daughter has had enough, dad.” He’s getting too close for comfort, and your cunt is too wet for comfort.

“When you were a baby,” Dad starts, and you have detached yourself from this narrative entirely, in your world dad came into your life now, so when he speaks of the early days you space out and think of his dick, “you used to cry for me all day, didn’t even want mom to hold you, now you don’t even want to touch me.”

He sounds like a neglected housewife that has spent all too many years prettying herself up for a dick that isn’t worth it.

“I’m not a baby anymore.” You’re not a baby, and you wish he would see that now. You want him to see what he’s done to you, that he’s fucked you over so bad you can only get off to the sight of his dick gaping a tiny hole.

“I know.”

You have tits now, and your ass is decently big and you’re taller and 1 in 5 men have liked the way you suck dick.

“But you’re daddy’s baby,” he coos, pinching your cheek lightly to spare you from any pain.

“Gross.” He hasn’t been daddy since you were five and hopeful, he shouldn’t be daddy unless he’s willing to take you to bed like he did with all those other girls. “It’s too hot, get off of me.”

“Aw, baby, do you want me to get a kiddie pool out back? You could splash around in there while daddy fixes the AC.”

“No, ew, dad, I want you to get off of me.” It comes off harsher than you intend, but when you spiral headfirst into a porn addiction and come out of it with a crush on your dad, it’s just a little troublesome. Knowing that your daddy gets around like a ceiling fan but wouldn’t spare a glance at you for legal reasons is crushing.

“You’re being mean, kid.” He kisses your sweaty forehead, a silent apology for making your knees weak and your pussy wet. “What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up, dad, it’s just hot and you’re on top of me.” On top of you in all the wrong ways. “And the AC doesn’t even work, maybe you could get to fixing that?”

“I dunno how,” Leon admits, “why don’t you find, uh, y’know the guys to do the job on your thingy.” He gestures towards your laptop, you’re lucky the sound of his dirty talk and slapping skin isn’t leaking out from the cracks.

“My thingy?” You giggle, “you can find someone yourself, I don’t know what to look for.”

He takes one end of your laptop in his hand, you wrestle it away from him. “Why ya being so touchy? You talkin’ to boys on there?”

“Why would I use my fucking laptop to talk to boys, dad?” Your fingers tremble and you hug it to your chest like a baby would a teddy bear.

“‘Cause you’re being weird ‘bout it, let me see what’s on there, and don’t swear at me, young lady.” Ugh. You hate when he tries to be a good dad. It’s sort of cheesy, and you’re too far gone to find an ounce of respect for him.

“No, dad, it’s mine, that’s not fair—I’m not a kid you can’t take it from me—“ But he’s stronger, not bigger, but definitely stronger, strong enough to pin you down. When he opens it up, you cry out when the screen brightens up. “No, oh my god, stop it!”

“Oh.”

“Oh my god,” you whimper, your trembling bottom lip does nothing to stop tears from falling. When you try to get up, dad grabs your wrist.

“C’mere, sit down.” He doesn’t sound outright mad, but in your panic, you fail to notice the amusement that comes with his words.

“Stop it, I don’t wanna do those, like, I don’t wanna have, like, a talk or whatever with you, just leave me alone.” You wipe your eyes with your free hand.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” Dad says, a gentle hand cupping your cheek as he pushes the laptop off of his lap and onto your mattress, “you always get so worked up over little things, just like your ma.”

It’s not a little thing, getting caught watching your dad’s porn films is not a little thing—This is like the biggest possible thing ever. Other than his dick.

“Dad, can you stop? Like, oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You think it might be the first time you’ve ever cried in front of him.

“C’mon, now, don’t cry about it, honey,” he coos, pulling you into his lap with a grunt, “nothing to cry about, if you needed daddy’s help all you had to do was ask.”

What a fucking liar. Leon has never helped you out a day in your life, but when it comes to sex, when it comes to fucking his own daughter, now he wants to help?

“C’mere, baby, you want me to do that with you?” He nods his head at the screen where his past self has that cute blonde brat bent in half. “Daddy can teach you.”

You do want that. It’s all you want. You just don’t want to give in because nothing about this is normal. And it’s not that anything has ever really been normal, but it would be nice to pretend that everything is fine.

“That’s so fucked up, dad,” you sniffle, but when he slips a hand between your thighs you don’t protest.

“No, it’s not,” Leon hums, he lifts your skirt until it’s a belt around your waist, “good daddies teach their little girls how to fuck, so I guess should step up ‘n be a good dad for once, huh?”

“I… I guess so…” The air is knocked from your lungs when he wastes no time getting to your slick cunt, sliding your soaked panties to the side and thumbing your little clit.

“Doesn’t matter what you think anyway.” Dad pushes his finger into your sloppy hole, your pussy clicks. “‘Cause this is daddy’s pussy and he’ll do what he wants with it.” He’s talking like he does in his videos. You clench around him so tight he struggles to push in a second finger.

“I didn’t… I didn’t like it,” you whimper as he scissors you open, pussy dripping slick down your thighs, the floodgates have opened.

“Didn’t like what?” Dad kisses the sweat-slicked nape of your neck while he stretches you out, a third finger wriggling in beside his pointer and middle. He does it so clean, like—It’s dirty, but he’s so smooth, and it’s ‘cause he’s done this a million times before. To girls with tighter pussies and perkier tits and prettier faces.

“Like—Watchin’ it.” You try to stop the tremble in your voice, but he’s playing with your clit, pushing back the hood and pressing down on it hard like it’s a fucking buzzer. “I don’t like it… ‘Cause you weren’t with me.”

“What do you mean, baby?” Daddy asks, trying to make sense of your pout, his fingers come to a halt when you go rigid against his body, your spine digging into his front when you cum.

“It’s not fair, you were with other little girls ‘n not me, dad—“ You shudder, clit thrumming as your orgasm washes over you, it feels both warm and like you were doused in a bucket of ice water.

“Oh, baby,” Leon squeezes your tit with the hand that isn’t playing with your cunt— Like that’ll make you feel better about this deep-rooted self-hatred and whatever else a lack of a father figure has given you, “but you have dad now.”

And it’s not enough. You wanted him then. No matter how much you deny it, no matter how much you say mom was enough, you wanted a dad so fucking bad. But this’ll have to be enough. It’ll do.

“I’m all yours now, you don’t have to share me with anyone, okay?” He kisses your lips when you tilt your head up to look at him, and you melt into him.

“Okay.” You nod, the faint taste of whiskey lingers in your mouth when he pulls away.

Dad lays you down and you let him. It feels like he’s fucking you into bed, when he kisses your thigh you know he doesn’t see you like he used to. You’re not really a daughter to him, but he is obligated to take care of you in any way he sees fit, and if clogging up your leaky pussy with his dick is what daddy thinks is right, you’ll let him do that.

You were dreaming about it last night so you don’t know what’s changed.

“Can’t believe you found it,” Leon says to himself, he’s shaking his head as he lowers his sweats.

“Was really easy, dad, ‘s not hard to find.” You shift and spread your legs, his head rests on your thigh.

“Did you go lookin’ for it?” He squeezes your pussy lips together, licking your clit when it pokes out between them.

“No…” Your answer is partly true. ‘Cause you did come across those old tapes by mistake, and you really were horrified at first, but you did type your dad’s name into the search bar with the word daddy after it.

He raises his brows but doesn’t question you sooner ‘cause, in his words, your pussy’s too pretty to be thinkin’ of anything else.

Dad eats you out and your legs shake. You can’t even talk about it, fuck, you don’t even remember it, all you know is that it felt fucking good. And it hit you hard. Your makeup is dripping, you look like you got passed around at a frat party, and he hasn’t even put his dick in you yet.

You grope at his dick through his boxers like you’ve seen all girls in porn do, and then you swallow hard. ‘Cause it’s big and you’re not sure you can make it through sucking his dick without a couple of bumps in the road.

“Don’t have to do that, just wanna put my dick inside you,” he mumbles when you nose at his cock, suckling on the wet patch that leaks through his boxers.

“I need daddy inside me too,” you whine pitifully, and he coos, sitting you on his tummy, pussy so wet it gets the taut skin of his abdomen all shiny.

“You need it or you want it, baby?” He laughs softly, and a gentle hand comes to rub circles into your hip.

“I need it, dad,” you whine again, not knowing what to do with your hands so you place them on his chest. You really do need it. It’s a life-or-death situation.

“Okay, baby, sit on it, c’mon, I know you can do it,” Dad urges, the most he does to help you out is take the shaft of his cock in his hand, guiding it into your tight hole, but you have to do the rest.

Your body seizes as you slide down on his fat cock, your insides are shaped like him by the time he bottoms out. He’s wearing you. Using your cervix as a cock ring.

“Is it that good, baby?” Dad pets your head as your mouth is agape, his feet are planted flat on the bed and he ever so gently thrusts upwards, the tip of his cock jabbing your cervix in a way you’ve never felt before. It hurts so good and you want him to do it again. “Do you need dad’s help, pumpkin?”

Your legs tremble and your toes curl, you admit defeat with a single nod of your head. So daddy grabs your hips and batters your cervix as he bounces you on his cock like a doll. Like a pornstar.

“There we go, you’re a natural, baby, just like your daddy,” he tells you as you collapse into his chest, your face in his neck as you cry for him, for his fat fucking cock. Jesus Christ. Your dad is seriously rawing your pussy right now, you didn't even think of a condom—He hits that stop deep inside of you, and his fingers find your clit and you’re a goner.

There are no thoughts to think up when dad’s inside of you. Your brain is blank and all you can do is call out for daddy, you want him to hold you so he does, you beg him to kiss you and he does, he kisses you so hard it hurts, teeth clacking and your spit dribbling into his mouth.

Dad doesn’t cum inside of you though, and you have to admit you're disappointed. You wanted him to warm your belly and your heart. He holds you against his chest as you sniffle, and then he asks if you want to be a star just like dad.

“You really are a natural, baby, I wasn’t kidding.” Leon rocks you from side to side. “What’d you think, hm? Want to help dad out with his comeback? Nobody has to know.”

It’ll be too hard to notice. How your nose is the same as his from the side, how you both have dimples in the same places, that your top lip is thinner than your bottom lip just like dad’s. Things like that, they’ll slip under the radar, so you accept. ‘Cause you’d do a damn good job at being his on-screen daughter.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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thestrongestkikufuku · 3 days

Text

a business proposal, p. 7

» series masterlist - ⟡⋆˙

» contents - ⟡⋆˙ fluff, slight angst, au, satoru gojo x f!reader, ceo!gojo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, reader being drunk and hungover, mentions of violence (nothing too explicit), reader going through some shit, gojo being a bit petty

» word count - ⟡⋆˙ 5.5k

» notes - ⟡⋆˙ hi everyone!! i'm so sorry this took so long to post, i actually started writing this pretty late into the day and it's currently 3 am as i write this 😭 this one was pretty fun to write but also quite challenging because i was unsure on how to continue, but here we are!! i now added a series masterlist link, making it easier for me to add for each part so please check that out and save it if you want to keep updated!! :) i also want to take the time to thank the people who ask to be in the taglist, i realize that answering every single request can be quite repetitive, but i can assure you all that i see them and it makes me so incredibly happy to know that you want to be tagged and eagerly wait for next part!! thank you so much for reading and i hope you all enjoy part 7 of this series! :)<3 once again, feel free to leave a comment or a private message to be added in the taglist. happy reading! (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

» m.list - ⟡⋆˙

“Wait? What do you mean my ideas got rejected?!” you exclaimed, trailing your stressed coworker around the office area. “The superiors seemed happy with it— they… They approved of it! God, I fought tooth and nail to make it all perfect!”

“I don’t know, [name], it seems like they must’ve changed their mind.” Your coworker replied, their voice tinged with exhaustion and empathy.

“But why? Why did Mr. Nakamura reject it—”

“It wasn’t Mr. Nakamura’s decision, [name].”

“Then who was in charge?”

“It was Mr. Gojo.”

You stopped in your tracks, disbelief washing over you like a cold wave. The office noise faded into a low and muted background noise as you tried to process what you’d just heard.

“Mr… Mr. Gojo? But... Why would he even be involved in this?” You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, trying to make sense of the situation.

Your coworker shrugged, a deep sigh escaping their lips. “I guess your proposal caught his attention. Apparently he’s been taking a more hands-on approach lately.”

“I— b-but how can he reject it when it got approved in the first place?!” You stammered, frustration and confusion mingling in your mind. You could practically feel your heartbeat in your temples, each thud amplifying your stress.

“I don’t know. Maybe he saw something the others didn’t,” your coworker said softly. They stopped walking and turned to face you fully. “Look, this project is a big deal for him and the company, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he's being extra picky this time. You know how he is, he’s got insanely high expectations.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, the unfairness of it all nearly overwhelming.

“R-Right,” you nodded solemnly, averting your gaze from your coworker, who seemed even more saddened on your behalf. “I get it. Thank you.”

Feeling defeated, you trudged back to your office and slumped into your chair. Sadness and frustration weighed heavily on your shoulders. All the effort, the all-nighters, all seemed to unravel with Gojo’s unexpected rejection.

Instinctively, your hand reached for your phone. Your thumb hovered over ‘Archaeopteryx’, the name staring back at you, evoking memories of a time when he had assured you that you could call anytime, especially when you felt down.

His words had been comforting then, a reassurance that despite the facade, there was a personal connection you could rely on. But now, staring at his name on your phone, uncertainty crept in. Would he still honor that promise, even after everything that had happened? Would calling him now make any difference?

After a brief hesitation, you decided to dial. The phone rang once, twice, and then after a while it went straight to voicemail. Your heart sank as the automated message played, confirming that he wasn’t available to take your call. Or perhaps he didn’t want to answer?

Disappointment washed over you, mixed with a sense of abandonment. It seemed that even his offer of support had its limits, perhaps now more than ever. You hung up the phone slowly, staring at it for a moment before setting it down with a sigh.

The silence in your office felt oppressive now, the weight of the rejection from earlier crushing down on you again. You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes and trying to steady your breathing. It was clear that you were truly on your own at this moment.

—

“This guy is unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at your computer screen. “He rejected me again?!”

This was the fourth time that your marketing proposal had been turned down, each rejection more baffling than the last. The email included very vague reasons that made little sense to you, leaving you frustrated and questioning your abilities. It was becoming a frustrating pattern: every innovative idea you pitched seemed to hit the wall, despite initial enthusiasm from your colleagues and even higher-ups.

With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your temples, trying to fend off the pounding headache that threatened to overwhelm you. Maybe it wasn’t just about your ideas; maybe there was something deeper at play, something you couldn’t quite grasp.

As you stared at the screen, thoughts raced through your mind. Was it politics? Personal bias? Or were you simply not seeing something crucial?

“He thinks he’s so high and mighty behind a screen, but he can’t even say this to my face,” you muttered, frustration bubbling within you. “So stupid, annoying, arrogant, piece of sh—”

Your words come to a stop as you read the rejection mail once more, feeling the sting of the impersonal dismissal. It wasn’t just about the idea anymore; it was about respect and fairness.

As you sat there, contemplating your next move, a feeling of determination began to settle in. You wouldn’t let this latest setback define your efforts or your worth.

Taking a deep breath, you closed the email and stood up from your desk. The familiar buzz of the office around you seemed distant as you focused on your resolve. Walking purposefully towards the door, you knew what needed to be done. It was time to confront this head-on, to seek clarity and demand the respect you deserved.

As you fidget nervously inside the elevator, your heart beats with anticipation. The soft hum of the elevator’s motor is the only sound in the confined space, amplifying the silence that envelops you. Each passing second feels like an eternity as the numbers above the door light up, counting down your descent into uncertainty.

Your mind races, trying to think of a plan. How should you approach him? What should you say? The weight of indecision presses upon you like a physical force, making it hard to breathe.

Suddenly the elevator doors slid open, and there he was, standing right outside.

Your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with Gojo, his presence unexpected and intimidating. Panic surged through you, making your palms clammy and the thoughts in your mind scramble. This wasn’t how you had planned it. You weren’t ready to confront him like this.

For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze. Gojo’s expression was unreadable, his eyes assessing you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. You struggled to find your voice, to formulate the words you had rehearsed so many times in your head.

Without a word, he stepped into the elevator beside you.

The air between you was charged with unspoken tension as the doors closed. You glanced at him, trying to read his expression, while he avoided meeting your eyes directly. It was clear neither of you had anticipated this sudden awkward proximity.

After a few moments of silence that felt longer than they were, you gathered your courage and blurted out, “what’s wrong with my ideas that you had to reject them four times?!”

“It’s not quite hitting the mark,” he replied casually, his gaze focused on the doors in front of him. “I want it to be perfect. You can do better.”

His nonchalant demeanor caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. The implication sank in slowly — he wasn’t just dismissing your ideas, he was challenging you to improve them until they met his exacting standards.

“But I’ve put everything into it,” you protested, your voice wavering slightly. “I’ve revised it multiple times based on the feedback—”

“And I want you to redo it until it’s to my liking.”

“To your liking?!” You exclaimed, surprising him, “you listen here, I did everything by the book. The supervisors liked it, my colleagues liked it—everyone except you. So what is the issue?!”

Gojo remained silent, his expression unreadable. The tension between you grew more evident, the air thick with unspoken words, it was almost suffocating. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and without thinking, you reached out and tugged on his arm to turn him around, shocking both him and yourself with the boldness of your action.

He blinked in surprise, his gaze finally meeting yours, eyes wide in surprise.

“Answer me,” you insisted, your voice tinged with irritation and a hint of vulnerability. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you aggravate me!” He finally exclaimed, his tone coming out sharper than he intended.

The word hung in the air between you, shock rippling through you— not just from the unexpectedness of his blunt response, but from the raw honesty that lay beneath it.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the atmosphere grew thicker and heavier, almost suffocating. You were suddenly aware of the closeness between you, the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth of his presence. His proximity was almost intoxicating, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race. You could feel his breath softly brushing against your lips, so close yet not touching. His eyes flickered down to your lips almost imperceptibly, a fleeting moment that spoke volumes.

“I...” you started, uncertain of how to respond, your heart pounding in your chest.

He leaned closer, as if drawn by an invisible force, his intent clear yet unspoken. The world around you faded into the background, leaving only the charged moment between the two of you. His lips hovered tantalizingly close, the moment hanging in suspended anticipation.

Before he could make a move, the elevator’s chime shattered the moment, startling you both as you stepped back. The doors slid open with a mechanical whirr, flooding the confined space with bustling noises from the outside world.

Gojo hesitated, his eyes still locked with yours, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. Then, with a subtle shake of his head, he stepped out of the elevator without another word, leaving you standing there, stunned and unsure how to process what had just happened.

—

“WHAT?!” Rin’s voice was almost ear shattering as she leaned over the table in shock, “HE KISSED YOU?!”

“He didn’t kiss me—” You sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose, “he just got really close, that’s all. But I’m pretty sure he was going to, like, kill me.”

Rin squinted at you, trying to focus through the haze of alcohol. “Wait, wait, wait. He got close... Like this close?” She mimicked leaning in dramatically, almost tipping over in the process.

“Yes, exactly like that.” You said, trying not to laugh at Rin’s exaggerated demonstration.

“Oh my god,” Rin gasped dramatically, slumping back in her chair. “And then what happened?”

“Nothing. The elevator arrived at the lobby, and he left.” You explained, your voice tinged with disappointment.

Rin pouted sympathetically. “That’s so unfair! Why does he have to be so mysterious?”

You shrugged, swirling the remnants of your drink in its glass. “I wish I knew.”

Rin suddenly perked up, eyes brightening mischievously. “Well, you know what you have to do, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “What?”

“Make him chase you,” Rin declared with a tipsy grin. “Make him fall in love with you, HARD.”

You let out a small snort. “That’s highly inappropriate, Rin, he’s my boss,” you muttered as you took a swift chug of your drink. “Besides, I don’t think I want to do anything with him after the fake relationship thing. He’s always so… Demanding. And what if he finds out about the whole fake identity stuff? That’s just going to make things even worse. And his grandfather wouldn’t approve anyway.”

Rin waved her hand dismissively, nearly knocking over her own glass. “Pfft, who cares about that? It’s all about the drama, the tension! Trust me, if he got all up and personal with you, there’s obviously something there.”

“You watch way too many dramas, Rin,” you sighed, feeling a mixture of amusement and exasperation at her persistent encouragement. “Besides, I’m not sure it’s that simple. He’s… Complicated.”

“Complicated is just another word for interesting,” Rin countered with a wry grin. “Come on, you know you want to stir things up a bit. Life’s too short to be boring.”

—

Later that night, Gojo found himself at his apartment, sifting through stacks of paperwork and emails. He pulled up the latest marketing proposal from you, intending to give it another thorough review before making his decision. Each sentence he read seemed to blur together as his thoughts strayed to the memory of your encounter earlier.

Just as he was about to compose an email to provide feedback, likely more revisions, his phone rang. Confusion etched on his features as he saw your name flash insistently on his screen. It was late, and he couldn’t fathom why you would be calling at this hour.

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey,” came your voice, slightly slurred and unmistakably tipsy. “Where… Are you?”

Confusion turned to concern as Gojo tried to process your words. “Miss [name]—Miss Mei, are you drunk?”

“Aah…” There’s a long pause from your end of the line before you start giggling. “Maybe a little? I went out to drink with… Rin.”

“Is she with you right now?” Gojo asked calmly, though his voice tinged with concern.

“No, no… She left a while ago. Her dad… Picked her up…” You sighed softly, “I just wanted to stay for a bit longer, you know… Drink my problems away.”

Gojo sighed heavily, his concern deepening “where are you? I can get a ride for you.”

“I’m… Outside this bar.”

“Right,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dealing with this situation was going to be complicated. “Do you know which one?”

“Uhhh…” The sound of you shuffling about as you look around could be heard. “Happy-go-lucky bar.”

Gojo’s brows quirked up at your words. “That’s very close to where I work.”

“Hehe, I know,” you giggled again before continuing, your voice lowering in concern. “Anyway, can you help me? These guys won’t leave me alone and—”

“Come on sweetheart, live a little! Just get one more drink with us.”

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat, his worry escalating as he heard the voices in the background.

“Satoru, can you—”

“Listen to me carefully. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you, alright?”

There was no answer from your end, only silence. The call ended abruptly, leaving him with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Without hesitation, he quickly grabbed his jacket and keys, his mind racing with worry and the need to reach you as soon as possible. The short drive to the bar felt like an eternity, filled with concern and a growing sense of urgency to ensure your safety.

As Gojo arrived at the bar, his heart raced with a mixture of relief and concern. Spotting you outside, he saw two men circling you, their intentions unclear but their demeanor showed clear aggressiveness. Gojo immediately parked his car and hurried over.

He approached swiftly as he harshly pulled the men away from you. They stumbled back, clearly startled and angered by his interference. You looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear.

“Hey, who the hell do you think you are!?” One of the men slurred, his voice thick with alcohol and aggression.

Gojo’s expression hardened as one lunged at him. With lightning reflexes, he delivered a punishing blow to the man’s jaw, rendering him unconscious in an instant.

The sudden display of force left you stunned, frozen in place as you watched Gojo effortlessly handle the threat. The remaining man hesitated, clearly taken aback by Gojo’s ferocity.

“Get lost.” Gojo commanded sharply.

The man stumbled back, fear now evident in his eyes, before turning and hastily running away.

Breathing heavily, Gojo turned back to you, his expression softening as soon as he saw you.

“Are you alright?” His voice trembles slightly, his hand reaching out as if to grab your face but then hesitating, pulling back.

You nodded dumbly, still processing what just happened. “I... I think so.”

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Gojo said gently, guiding you towards his car with a protective arm around your shoulders.

The drive back was filled with a heavy silence, thick with tension that seemed to suffocate the air around them. You sat beside Gojo, your head spinning, not just from the remnants of alcohol in your system but also from the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded.

Gojo focused on the road ahead, his jaw tightened. The occasional streetlight cast fleeting shadows across his face, highlighting the tension that gripped his features. He stole a glance at you now and then, concern etched deeply in his face.

Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

You wanted to say something, to break the suffocating silence, but words eluded you. How could you articulate the mix of gratitude and confusion swirling inside you? You can’t even make sense of the situation right now, let alone understand your feelings towards Gojo.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of your apartment building, Gojo turned off the engine but made no move to get out. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white with tension. You hesitated, unsure of how to break the silence that enveloped you both.

“Satoru…” you started tentatively.

He turned to look at you fully, his expression softening slightly at the sound of your voice. “Yeah?”

“I... Thank you,” you managed, your words stumbling out awkwardly. “For... For coming when you did.”

His gaze held yours for a moment, the tension in his features slowly fading away.

“I couldn’t let anything happen to you,” Gojo replied quietly, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I just... I couldn’t.”

You hummed in response, averting your gaze from his.

“This… This is a dream, right?” You asked softly.

“What?”

“If… If this isn’t a dream,” you pause for a moment, hiccuping silently, “there’s no way you would come running to take care of me… Like this.”

Gojo’s expression softened, but beneath it, a hint of disappointment flickered as he processed your words. It was a moment of quiet introspection for him, realizing how distant he might have seemed before this moment.

But before he could dwell on it further, an unexpected giggle escaped your lips.

“What’s so funny?” Gojo asked, surprised by the sudden shift in mood.

You shook your head, the laughter bubbling up despite the seriousness of the situation. “I... I can’t believe I'm doing this.”

His confusion deepened. “Doing what?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “My name... It’s not really Mei. It’s…” Your voice faltered, nerves and alcohol blurring the edges of your thoughts. “It’s [name].”

Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Of course, he had known your real name for a long time now, but hearing it from you, especially in this vulnerable moment, caught him off guard.

“I know,” he said softly, his tone gentle and understanding. “It's okay.”

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise in your cheeks. “I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, [name],” he interjected smoothly, his voice gentle yet reassuring. “You’re drunk, you should go get some rest.”

You nodded slowly, grateful for his understanding despite the awkwardness of the moment. “Yeah... I think I should.”

Opening the car door, you stepped out into the cool night air, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. As you stood there, unsure of what to say next, Gojo spoke again, his voice breaking through the quiet.

“Take care of yourself, [name].”

“You too… Satoru.”

—

The next morning, sunlight filtering through your bedroom window stirred you awake. You groaned softly, your head throbbing with the unmistakable aftermath of drinking too much alcohol. Blinking against the light, you reached for your phone on the bedside table.

As you scrolled through your notifications, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. There it was—a call log from last night, and Gojo’s name stood out among the list.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized you had been on a call with him, but the details were fuzzy, lost in the haze of alcohol and confusion. Did something happen? Did you say something embarrassing or inappropriate?

Fear and uncertainty gripped you, and for a moment, you debated whether to call him back, to ask for clarification. But then doubt crept in—what if he didn’t answer?

With a heavy sigh, you set your phone back down, burying your face in your hands. The hangover was pounding behind your eyes, intensifying with each passing minute. You needed a distraction, something to take your mind off the whirlwind of thoughts.

Just then, a gentle knock on your bedroom door startled you. Before you could respond, your father peeked in, a concerned expression softening his features. He held a tray with breakfast—a plate with fruits and toast.

“Hey there,” he greeted softly, stepping into the room. “How are you feeling?”

You forced a weak smile. “I'm okay, dad. Just have a really bad headache.”

He nodded sympathetically, placing the tray on your bedside table. “You need to be more careful next time,” he chided gently, concern evident in his voice. “You’re lucky your friend dropped you off last night.”

Confusion clouded your mind as your brows furrowed slightly. “Huh? But Rin went home before me.”

“No, no, it wasn’t Rin, it was someone else. I haven’t met them before but it looked like they had white hair.”

The blood drained from your face as a cold realization washed over you.

“White hair…” You whispered, barely able to comprehend what you were hearing.

Could it really have been him? Satoru Gojo?

Your father looked at you, concern deepening at your sudden change in demeanor. “Is everything okay, [name]?”

You stared at him, trying to process the implications of what he had just said. “S-Sorry... Did you say... White hair?”

He nodded slowly, his brow furrowing with worry. “Yes, that’s what I saw.”

“Oh my god…”

Panic surged through you, electrifying every nerve in your body. Your mind raced, tumbling through fragments of the previous night. Disbelief clawed at your chest, making it hard to breathe. How could this have happened? How could you have let your guard down so easily?

Your father’s voice seemed distant, muffled, as he called for you. “[name], are you sure you’re alright? You look pale.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of shock that threatened to overwhelm you.

“I... I need to lie down.” The words felt foreign, detached from the whirlwind of terror swirling inside you. You forced yourself to maintain composure, to not let the full extent of your fear show.

The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place with a sickening clarity. Your thoughts flashed to the abrupt end to your fake relationship arrangement, where he had terminated it so suddenly, without any warning or explanation.

And then there was the elevator ride a few days ago, where Gojo had suddenly blurted out that you aggravated him. At the time, you had brushed it off as one of his usual quirks, his tendency for dramatic declarations. But now, the memory took on a new, horrifying significance. His words echoed in your mind, laced with a bitterness that you hadn’t fully understood until now. “You aggravate me,” he had said, his eyes dark with an emotion you couldn’t place then.

It all made sense now.

The realization hit you like a physical blow, leaving you reeling. How could you have missed it? The signs were there, subtle but unmistakable. The way his demeanor suddenly shifted around you, the unspoken tension that had simmered just beneath the surface of your interactions. He wasn’t just annoyed by you; he felt deeply hurt by your deception.

You could almost see it now, the moment he must have pieced it all together. The realization dawning in his eyes, the sting of betrayal as he understood who you really were. The thought of Gojo, usually so composed and in control, grappling with that kind of hurt was almost too much to bear.

Your father’s voice brought you back to the present. “Do you need anything else, [name]?”

You shook your head, forcing another weak smile. “No, dad, I think I just need some time to um... Rest.” Your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears.

As he left the room again, you allowed the tears to fall, silent but heavy with the weight of your predicament. You had always known that going through with this lie was risky, but you had never anticipated it would come crashing down like this.

The following days were a mix of anxiety and avoidance. You called into work, claiming to be sick, and spent the hours in a restless limbo. The thought of bumping into Gojo made you feel physically ill. Every time your phone buzzed with a message or an email notification, your heart raced, fearing it might be him. The weight of your deception pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

The days turned into a week, each one more unbearable than the last. The four walls of your room felt like a prison, closing in on you. You couldn’t escape the gnawing dread that filled your thoughts. Every time you considered going back to work, the image of Gojo’s hurt and betrayed eyes would surface, and you’d feel a fresh wave of nausea.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. The anxiety, the fear, the guilt—it was all too much. You had to put a stop to this, to free yourself from this torment. The decision, once made, brought a strange sense of relief, mixed with sadness.

Sitting at your desk, you opened your laptop and began drafting your resignation letter. Each word felt like a tiny release of the burden you’d been carrying. You kept it professional, citing personal reasons and the need for a fresh start. Once you were done you took a deep breath and hit send. The email whisked away your resignation into the digital ether, hoping that Gojo would accept it and move on.

—

You found yourself curled up on your bed late at night, trying to lose yourself in the comforting familiarity of your favorite show. The flickering images and familiar characters offered a brief respite from the turmoil in your mind. You hugged a pillow to your chest, seeking comfort in its softness.

Suddenly, your phone rang, shattering the fragile peace. The sound jolted you, sending a surge of panic through your veins. You glanced at the screen, seeing the ‘Archaeopteryx’ flashing insistently. Your heart raced, your breath hitching in your throat. You watched as it rang, paralyzed by fear and indecision, until it finally stopped.

The silence that followed was both relieving and tormenting. You let out a shaky breath, but the feeling of dread lingered. A part of you wished you had answered, to confront the inevitable, to maybe find some closure. But the thought of hearing his voice, of facing his anger and hurt, was too overwhelming.

The phone rang again, breaking the silence once more. You stared at it, your hands trembling. The impulse to ignore it was strong, but so was the need to face what you had been avoiding. Summoning all your courage, you hesitantly picked up the phone and answered.

“H-Hello?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Gojo’s familiar voice came through, calm yet tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite figure out. “[name],” he began tentatively.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a wave of panic washed over you. The sound of your real name, spoken so softly, sent you over the edge. It was one thing to know he had uncovered your secret, but hearing him use your true name made it all too real. Your heart pounded, and you felt dizzy, struggling to maintain your composure.

“I’m outside.” Gojo continued, his voice steady yet carrying a hint of urgency.

“W-What—”

“I need to talk to you,” he interrupted smoothly. “So please, just… Come out.”

“Satoru, I don’t think that’s a good idea—” you began, desperately attempting to find a way out.

“I won’t leave until you come out.” He declared firmly, cutting you off before you could finish, leaving no room for argument.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Okay... I-I’ll be right there.”

You hung up and took a moment to steady yourself. Your hands were shaking, and your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, trying to muster the strength to face him, despite the redness and puffiness that had surrounded your eyes.

With a deep breath, you made your way out of the apartment complex and stepped out into the cool night air. There he was, standing a few feet away, his tall figure illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights.

“Hey.” He said softly, his soft gaze watching you intently.

“Hi.” You murmured, your voice trembling.

There was a brief moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. You both stood there, uncertain of where to begin, each waiting for the other to break the tense stillness.

“How long have you known—”

“You really think you can just send your resignation letter and move on?” Gojo interrupted abruptly.

“H-Huh?” you stammered, taken aback by his unexpected question.

He stepped closer. “You think you can just walk away from this, after everything?”

Your heart sank as his words sank in. You hadn’t anticipated this—his directness, his raw honesty. The resignation letter had felt like a necessary step, a way to distance yourself from the pain and uncertainty. But standing here, face to face with him, you realized it wasn’t that simple.

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought... I thought it would be best.”

Gojo shook his head slightly, a mix of frustration and sadness crossing his features. “Running away won’t solve anything,” he said firmly. “Besides, firing you would be truly idiotic seeing how you are one of our most talented employees.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Really? That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“No, that’s not it, [name],” he said firmly, taking another step closer to you. His eyes bore into yours with intensity. “I’ve missed having you around. And it’s not just about work. It’s about... Everything else.” He admitted quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of regret.

He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words to convey the weight of his thoughts.

“You have this... Presence,” he continued, his voice softening with admiration. “It’s like the room lights up when you enter, and suddenly everything feels more alive. After you’ve been gone, it’s like the color has drained from everything. Everything just feels quieter and dull.”

Gojo swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “I’ve found myself looking around, expecting to see you, to hear your voice chiming in with ideas or sharing a joke. And when you’re not here, it’s like...” His voice trailed off briefly, his gaze falling to the ground. “It’s like something is missing.”

The sincerity in his words touched you deeply, stirring a warmth in your chest despite the heaviness of the situation. His gaze held yours, unwavering and filled with a mixture of affection and vulnerability.

“I… I don’t understand.” You managed to say, your mind racing to catch up with the implications of his words.

He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes once more, closing the gap between you until you could feel the warmth of his presence.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, to deny it,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the city around you. “But I can’t deny how I feel anymore.”

You stood in stunned silence, holding your breath at the raw honesty of his words, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I care about you,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “More than I should, more than I’ve been willing to admit. And I have been in agony these past weeks. Throughout the times where we had to pretend, where I thought what I felt was part of the act. But now I know it’s real.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, his words resonating within you in a way that stirred emotions you hadn’t fully acknowledged before.

“Satoru—”

“I have feelings for you, [name],” he interrupted softly, his voice trembling slightly. “And I cannot keep pretending that I don’t.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on, charged with unspoken emotions. You searched his eyes, seeing a mix of hope and nervousness reflected back at you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. This was so much—more than you had ever expected, more than you felt prepared to handle. You struggled to process it all, to reconcile his confession with the tangled mess of feelings within you.

“I understand that it’s sudden,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “And I won’t rush you. So take your time to think things over and let me know.”

His words lingered in the air, laden with profound meaning. Gojo’s patience and understanding only made your decision harder. You wanted to say something, to find the right words to convey the turmoil in your heart, but clarity remained elusive.

“I will wait for you, [name],” he continued softly, his gaze unwavering. “No matter how long it takes.”

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barcaatthemoon · 2 days

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green whistle || sydney lohmann x reader ||

sydney gets hurt in practice and accidentally outs your relationship when given a green whistle.

the worst part of your job was having to see the players go down. you absolutely loved being a trainer, and when you were finished with your studies, you were excited to be a sports doctor. still, you had become close friends with the players and you hated having to be the one who told them how long they'd be out for when they got hurt. your least favorite was sydney, it killed you to see such a sad look on your girlfriend's face.

you had been working on some paperwork concerning the girls' physicals whenever sydney was rushed in. with all of the commotion, you would have thought that someone broke something. you rushed out of the office with urgency to see your girlfriend being partially dragged in by two of her teammates with a green whistle in her mouth.

"baby!" sydney exclaimed, dropping the whistle immediately. she tried to move out of the grasps of the other girls, but they held on tightly. "let me go, i want (y/n). she's pretty and gentle with me and gives me the sweetest kisses."

"why would (y/n) be kissing you of all people?" lea asked. it was a pretty poorly kept secret that you and sydney were seeing each other. however, the team was very respectful in not bringing it up until one of you did first. that did not mean that lea wouldn't tease sydney about how she constantly stared at you with a disgustingly lovesick look.

"because she's my girlfriend, duh! yeah, that's right, i got the very cute trainer girl's number. remember when you and georgia said i couldn't, well i did!" sydney shouted. your cheeks were red with embarrassment as sydney continued. it was fairly safe, mostly just about how cute she thought you were.

"quiet, and sit still for me," you told her. sydney promptly snapped her mouth shut and sat up straight in front of you. you checked her out and patched her up, glad that it was nothing more than a bit of muscle strain. it felt pretty bad, but wouldn't need anything more than maybe a week or two of rest. "you can rest here for the rest of practice, and before we leave i'll get you something if you're still in pain."

"you're so good at your job," sydney said as you taped her up. you glanced up at her to find her staring at you. lea and georgia looked a bit uncomfortable, but neither of them made a move to leave. "i'm so proud of you. i love you, liebe."

"i love you too." you stood up and pressed a quick kiss to sydney's lips. this time, georgia did turn away from the two of you, but lea didn't move. you watched sydney try to kick at her for fake gagging. "can i talk to the two of you for a moment?"

"we won't say anything if that's what you're scared of," lea promised you. you nodded, greatly appreciating that they already knew that you wanted to talk about. "you guys are cute together. everyone would be supportive if you did want to be open about with us."

"i'm not sure that it would matter. neither one of you seemed phased earlier," you pointed out.

"don't take this the wrong way, but you guys are not subtle. it's like neither of you were born with a subtle bone in your bodies," georgia told you. you chuckled at that, having known that sydney wasn't subtle, but never thinking that you were just as bad. it made sense, even if you weren't overly thrilled about the news that everybody had caught you openly checking your girlfriend out.

"it's cute though, don't worry!" lea reassured you. "all of us really care about syd, and i haven't seen her so happy with anybody else before. just know that sooner or later, you'll get the talk from the national team."

"as if she'd ever let them threaten me," you scoffed. sydney was off in her own little world on the bench, but you knew how protective your girlfriend was. there was no way she'd let more than one or two members of the national team whisk you away for a shovel talk.

"(y/n) has a point. remember when tod went to shout at (y/n)? surprised that he came around the next practice," georgia said. lea laughed at the memory of your girlfriend tearing into the senior medical trainer. you wouldn't have called what tod was doing shouting, but it was enough to have lea run at him from halfway across the pitch.

"liebe!" sydney whined as she reached out for you. georgia and lea took that as their cue to leave. you turned around to see her laying outstretched on the bench as she reached out towards you. her hand made a little grabbing motion over and over again until you walked over so she could grab you. immediately, sydney latched onto you with her arms around your hips as you ran a hand through her hair. "that's better, i missed you."

"yeah? i missed you too," you said softly. sydney fell asleep after barely three minutes of your fingers running through her hair. you went back to the office, but left a hoodie for sydney to cuddle up with while you finished work.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #sydney lohmann x reader #sydney lohmann imagine

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imjustreadinglmao · 23 hours

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Biscuits and Flowers 💐

Eris x Reader one shot

Summary: You want to surprise Eris but he’s stressed out and accidentally rejects you.

Warnings: angsty, hurt reader, slight miscommunication, work stress (High Lord Eris is working hard)

A/N: this ain’t shit… but Eris is still my baby

Word count: 1,4k

You were nervous as you walked into the Forrest House, your stomach fluttering as you made your way up to Eris’s office.

Since he became High Lord, a lot had changed.

You could finally hear children laughing and playing out on the streets.

Musicians were putting on shows for everyone to hear.

The land itself seemed to thrive. Trees grew taller than before, their leaves a more vibrant color.

Only the High Lord himself, you noticed, was more stressed and agitated than ever.

While out on a hunt last week, he told you how most of his nights were spent awake, plagued by his own thoughts and worries.

That’s when you decided that he needed something to put him in a better mood.

So you asked Elain to help you bake his favorite biscuits as a surprise.

On your way to the Forrest House, you also picked some lovely wildflowers, hoping they would bring a smile to his face.

And you had another important mission today…You wanted to ask him out on a date.

You two had been toeing around each other for a while now, but you were always too shy to say anything.

So today, after you gave him the gifts, you promised yourself, and Elain, you would ask him.

As you knocked on his office door, you remembered what Elain said to you: “That man is absolutely smitten with you. There is no world in which he would say no.”

You took a deep breath, pushed the door handle down, and stepped in.

Eris sat at his desk, his eyes so focused on the reports in front of him that he didn’t even notice you stepping into the room.

You walked over to him, flowers in one hand and a box filled with biscuits in the other.

A small smile played on your lips.

Everything will be fine, you thought.

Finally, as you halted in front of his desk, his head snapped up.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh and looked down, getting even more nervous with his gaze now fixed on you.

“Well, I am successful then. I know you’ve been so overwhelmed lately, so I wanted to surprise you.”

You held up the box and flowers to show him.

“I baked the biscuits you like so much. Oh, and I also got you some flowers.”

In the process of setting them down, you accidentally knocked over a candle.

The wax was now everywhere: on his papers and pens, the books and notebooks, even on his ink pad at the far end of the oak desk.

Your hands flew out to set the candle upright again, wax still pouring from it.

“Gods, I am so sorry, Eris. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

You looked at him, tears threatening to build because of how embarrassed you were.

Eris just stared at the ruined papers, hours of work probably gone to waste now.

You picked up one of the papers, wanting to wipe the wax off it. “Here, let me see if I can—”

“No.” Eris took the paper out of your hand. “Just leave it. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Eris was lying, he couldn’t even look at you.

You came here to cheer him up, and instead, you somehow managed to add more stress to his day.

And now you were standing in the middle of his office, shoulders slumped, guilt written all over your face.

“This wasn’t how I imagined this surprise to go.” You cringed, Eris still not looking at you.

“I didn’t want to cause you more stress. I can help you rewrite everything. And then maybe after that we can have dinner? I can make the tarts you like so much and—”

“Stop.” You flinched at his harsh tone.

“Just stop.” Eris shook his head in annoyance and sighed. “You’re making everything worse with your rambling.”

Your fingers began to tremble, and you quickly shoved them in the pockets of your dress so he wouldn’t see.

He had every right to be mad. And he also had every right to reject your dinner offer.

You almost expected him to say no, even before you destroyed half a day’s work with your mishap.

Hel, you didn’t even know if he saw you as any more than a good friend.

Sure, you were around each other often, thanks to your friendship with Elain and Lucien, but that didn’t mean he had to like you.

You must have misread the signs. Gods, this was beyond embarrassing.

He probably hated you now.

Tears gathered in your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let them drop.

You would cry later in the safety of your room, but not like this and surely not in front of him.

That would just make matters worse.

“You can leave now.” Eris’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked down again, amber eyes meeting yours.

His face was unreadable, detached even. As if his body was here but his mind elsewhere.

He made no attempt to say anything else, so you turned and walked out the door, leaving the biscuits and flowers on his desk.

As you walked back to your room, you didn’t stop to greet the servants or the other librarians.

The thoughts in your head were simply too loud to acknowledge anything else.

It wasn’t until you curled up on your bed that they finally stopped racing.

—————————

A knock sounded on Eris’s office door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and Lucien poked his head in.

“I didn’t think you would be here.”

Lucien closed the heavy oak door behind him and sauntered up to where Eris was sitting.

“Elain said you would already be gone by now.”

Eris looked up from where he was writing, his eyebrows furrowed. “And where exactly would I be if not here?”

Arms crossed and hip propped against the desk, Lucien replied, “Oh, I don’t know… maybe at dinner with a certain librarian?”

Eris just looked at him, mouth slightly agape, a clueless expression on his face.

“I know she was here and brought you these.”

Lucien held up the gifts you left for Eris.

“And you’re still working, so I’m assuming you said no?”

Eris was standing now, the reports before him completely forgotten. “What do you mean I said no?”

“Wait… she didn’t ask you?!” It was Lucien’s turn to act confused.

“I swear to the Mother, Lucien. If you don’t tell me right now what exactly is happening, I’m going to find methods to make you talk.”

Lucien held up his hands in surrender.

“I’ll tell you, no need to get all violent.”

He chuckled and continued,

“Y/N mentioned she was going to surprise you to cheer you up. I also overheard Y/N telling my mate that she wanted to invite you to dinner. I figured she’d asked you today, but maybe I misheard.”

Eris’s eyes were wide.

“She was going to ask me what?” he asked, hands digging into the wooden desk.

“She wanted to invite you to dinner. Just you and her.”

After a few seconds of silence, Lucien added, “like a date… I presume.”

At that, Eris went unrecognizably still.

Then he rounded the table and strode to the door, swinging it open with so much force that it crashed into the wall.

Lucien could only mutter a confused, “Where are you-” before Eris was out the door and down the hall.

Finding your room was easy. Eris had been there often enough to know the way.

He was running now, servants and nobles alike turning their heads and giving him confused looks.

But Eris couldn’t care less.

His priority was getting to you and explaining himself, plus a lot of begging for a second chance.

He slowed down and came to a stop in front of your room.

Right as he lifted his fist to knock, he heard Elain’s voice through the door.

“It’s going to be okay. This will pass.”

“You should have seen his face, Elain. I made such a fool of myself by even asking him. I shouldn’t be surprised that he rejected my offer. I basically ruined his entire day with my stupidity.”

Eris’s heart sank at that. He had been so stressed about the reports that he didn’t even hear you say anything.

The only thing he remembered was you stepping in to the office.

And then wax was pouring all over the documents and his mind just… left.

If he hadn’t dissociated, he would’ve- he would’ve said yes.

How could he not? You were the smartest, funniest and most beautiful fae he had ever laid eyes upon.

You were a ray of sunshine in his life, always brightening up his day.

And now you were in your room, crying because of him, and he could do nothing except stand there and listen to your muffled sobs.

A/N: don’t worry, they have their happy ever after. Eris finds her the next day. He apologises over and over again, takes her out to dinner and they have five beautiful children.

#eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #writers on tumblr #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #eris vandaddy #acotar x reader

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lovexjoe · 3 days

Note

how wwould armando react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same way, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

New follower 💗💗♥️🌷

Amor Prohibido

A/N: This was meant to be short, but I took the idea and ran with it. I hope you guys enjoy🤍 I also flip around with pov; sorry in advance.

Warning: Forbidden love, angst, violence, smut (idk what else im missing 😭)

Music to listen to while reading:

Fuck Love - XXXtentacion ft Trippie Redd.

SAD - XXXtentacion

John Redcorn - SIR

Y/N has been working with AMMO for 2 years now.

Kelly was the firecracker and you were the reserved sweetheart. Just don’t let nobody cross a line cause you’ll turn into an explosive real quick.

Mike and Marcus loved having you around, you brought the balance to the squad.

Being Kelly’s little sister, you were protected by everybody, including your least favorite person: Armando.

You didn’t understand him at all. Stone cold killer trying to turn a new leaf? I don’t think so

The moment Mike brought him into Kelly’s house unannounced was the first time ANYONE has seen you explode.

“What the fuck is he doing here?! He needs to leave NOW” Kelly points her gun directly at Armando.

Without even a hesitation you pulled your pocket knife out and slammed Armando against the wall. Shoving the knife up to his neck, close enough to draw blood.

“I know who you are and if you’re working with us. Do not make us regret it or you WILL be my first body count” Y/N spoke with venom. She couldn’t stand that Captain wasn’t here because of him. All the trouble he's caused. Everyone stops and stares at the two of you.

“Holy shit! Since when did Y/N turned into a Cobra?” Marcus jokes causing the air to lighten up a bit.

“Puedes confiar en mi” (you can trust me) Armando says as he takes in how beautiful her eyes are. He fully understood where she was coming from. He knew he had to show everyone that he wasn’t a stone cold killer: it was his mother who trained him.

From that day forward Armando could not stop thinking about you.

Kelly with hesitation moved Armando into the guest bedroom, across from Y/N room. Y/N wasn't too happy about it, but she gave him a chance to redeem himself.

He was quiet, respectable and kept to himself. Observing everyone like he always does. Observing his new favorite person, you.

8 months later

Armando was up late after a mission with AMMO. He was on standby as Y/N flirts with the drug dealer to distract him. She looked beautiful under the club lights. Her tan skin was glowing and her curly hair framing her face. The dress she was wearing took his breath away. He's never seen her in this light. She's usually in a tomboy attire just cause it was comfortable and convenient. This was the first time she wasn't on tech duty, Dorn's therapist recommended he took a rest from the action so Y/N volunteered herself. He was happy she was here, but it drove him crazy that she had to flirt with this old fuck. The man trailed his hands along her exposed back. It took everything in Armando not to put a bullet through his head and accept whatever consequences that came with it. Shortly Rita appeared along with Mike to arrest the drug dealer, putting an end to his torture. Y/N headed back into the van with Armando following behind her: watching her back just in case. Mike took notice that he never left her side. He knew his son, because they were exactly alike and hoped Y/N could bring a softer side out of him. Their friendship was forming, Y/N saw a side to Armando that nobody else did and she finally trusted him. She would never admit to it though, because with that trust comes with other feelings she wanted to lock away. It felt wrong to her. More like forbidden.

After they got home, everyone parted ways to their designated space. He's been thinking about her in that dress all night. It was 3am and sleep was definitely not in the air for tonight. He started to collect the dishes he had scattered around the room, irritated he let it get a bit messy. As he exits his room he notices the door to Y/N's bedroom was open. The kitchen light was on, the sink running as Y/N was clearing up the dishes that piled up the sink for over a week. The whole house was slacking on cleanliness.

"Can't sleep?" He asks as he sets his dishes on the counter next to her. Now leaning against it as she shook her head looking up at him. His heart skipped a beat taking in her nightly attire. A baby blue silk nightie that hugged her curves. Her curly mane was up in a messy bun and her glasses set low on her nose as she didn't bother fixing it.

"I've been so restless for the past two weeks" She shook her head, trying to make sense of why. She signals her head for him to put the dishes away as she washes; He complies. Armando would comply to anything that you said honestly. He loved that it was just the two of you right now with no interruptions. They never talked much, just enjoyed each other's presence. Maybe tonight could end differently he thought to himself.

"You did a great job tonight amor. It was nice having you away from the computer." He places the last dish in the cabinet and proceed to grab a bottle of alcohol walking over to the couch. Everything in you was screaming to go back to your room and not entertain this conversation further, but your body was already seated next to him. He took a sip from the bottle without even a struggle, handing the bottle off to you. You took a huge gulp knowing you need some liquid coverage if you're gonna stay up with him at these hours. You knew why you were restless for the past two weeks, it was the exact time when you started developing these other feelings for Armando. The best thing you can do is DENY DENY DENY. After all he's still a bad person right? A few months doesn't mean anything...right? Yet you trusted him entirely, none of this made fucking sense.

"Qué estás pensando?" (What are you thinking about?) He studies her worried face, deep in her thoughts; wishing she'd let him in. She turns her body to completely face him, her bare legs resting on his.

"Are you happy here?" Your eyes searched his, hoping to find something...a soul maybe? Some reassurance that he's on the path of making himself a better man.

" Happy? I don't know what that is fully. But I can say, when I'm here with you I'm at peace." He spoked openly for the first time, his hand grazing against your exposed leg. At this point you were just looking into each other's eyes, wishing one of you would make the move first. He took his whole being not to show you how much he worships you on this couch, but he does not want to disrespect you in any way. Your body felt so hot, yearning for his touch. Slowly your head was leaning in, both of you breathing uneasy, his hand resting on your cheek; lips so close but not touching just yet. You never felt this way about anyone before. Relationships, feelings all of that love bullshit was so new to you. Love? Do you love him? No it definitely can't be. You shoved the thought away as you pulled away.

"I-I have to go" You set the bottle down, hurrying to your room and locking the door. Armando curses to himself for even entertaining what had happened. You were curled up in bed when you heard the front door slammed. He had left to god knows where and you hugged your pillow wishing it was him.

1 week later

The two of you have not spoken a word to each other since the almost kiss.

Armando had returned at 10am that morning with no emotion towards Y/N at all.

She went back on tech duty until today.

The tension could be cut with a knife the whole team noticed.

"You two lovebirds are fighting aren't you?" Mike teased.

You rolled your eyes as you prep your ammo before you made it to your destination. This is something Armando already had done for you anytime you were on a mission with him; today was not that day.

He felt guilty as he watched you out of his peripheral but he felt like it was time he stop pursuing this. If you wanted him you would have kissed him that night: not run away.

Callie has been kidnapped along with Mike's wife. We received coordinates on where they were being held hostage.

As you reached the destination, both you and Armando scooped out the scene. You felt something off about the coordinates.

Once you two made it inside, you heard crying that sounded like Callie. Armando signals you to stay as quiet as possible as you guys make your way through the abandon building.

Once you guys got closer to the voice, you both realize it was just a recording.

"Its a TRAP!! BOTH OF YOU ABORT NOW" Mike and Marcus yelled over the intercom.

Before you could even try to escape there were already men surrounding you guys. Gunshots being the only sound that filled the air. The both of you, took as many men as you could, with the help of the drone assisting. Armando hated more than anything to see you shed blood, but those combat training days you two had was worth it. You could hold your own. Your surroundings got quiet, as you shove a knife through your enemy's neck. You turned around hoping to see Armando following you, but you froze in your steps. Mcgrath had his gun pointed at you ready to shoot. You guys were out of ammo, the drone gave out and any slight movement Mcgrath would kill you.

Everything slowed down, you felt your world stopped as Armando jumps in front of you causing Mcgrath to let out 3 shots. Armando taking the impact of all of them. You heard the rifle go off after, Mcgrath being taken down by a headshot. You immediately wrapped your arms around Armando, trying to find any way to stop the bleeding. This can't be happening right now. No no no no. You applied as much pressure as you could.

"Armando please stay with me, I can't lose you. Please" You cried and screamed for help. Mike and Marcus rushed in helping you take Armando into ambulance. You REFUSED to leave his side. The nurses had to pry you and Mike off of him so they could take him into surgery.

Armando started off hated by everyone, but over the past few months he truly became family. You sat down on the floor of the lobby, looking down at your bloodstain hands and your heart broke. Will you ever get a chance to tell him how you really feel? He jumped in front of a gun for you with no hesitation. Callie and Mike's wife was safe, the rest of Ammo took care of the mission while you and Mike were on standby waiting for Armando's results.

3 hours later

You laid next to Armando's bedside, holding his hand waiting for him to wake up. Mike left a few minutes before, thanking you for staying with him as he returns to his wife.

"I love you so much" You whispered against his hand, placing a soft kiss against it.

"I love you too mi amor. Más de lo que jamás sabrás" (More than you will ever know) He says softly, squeezing your hand reassuring that everything is okay. With no hesitation you pressed your lips against his, both of you moaning into each other's lips.

"I had to get shot 3 times for you to finally kiss me mami" You both started laughing.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

4 months later

Armando was finally healed and better than ever. Rita released both of you on a well needed vacation. The two of you avoided any of "those" activities till the doctor cleared him. Everyone was finally relieved to see you two engulfed in each other; the angst was truly unbearable. You guys had the house to yourself after returning from your romantic dinner. His lips immediately on yours after he locks the front door. Melting into his touch as he pushes you against the hallway of your bedroom, leaving hickeys on your neck and he didn't give a fuck.

"Mando" You let out a soft cry as he sucks on your weak spot right below your ear.

"Recién estoy empezando princesa" (I'm just getting started princess) He whispers as he slips his fingers under your dress, rubbing you through your underwear. Your little cries only ignited his dominate side even more. He rips your underwear causing it to fall to your feet, teasing you with one finger.

"You're so wet" He works a second finger in causing your legs to weaken. He pumps his finger harder and faster till your pussy started to make a squelch sound.

"Baby! Im squirting I'm squirting please!" Your orgasm dripped down his hand, he smiles to himself taking in his view. His girl, completely weak in her knees for him and the night just started. He wraps your legs around his waist carrying you into the bedroom.

"You came like a good girl for me baby." He gives you your well deserve praise as he lays you down, removing your dress and his clothes. His size and length definitely matched his attitude. The kisses were hot and messy as you aligned him with your entrance. As he slips in, you both couldn't help the sounds escaping from your mouths. His thrusts were slow and deep causing your eyes to tear up from the intense pleasure. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder for a better angle. The sound of pants and skin slapping was all that could be heard in that room.

"I love you" You both said in unison as you came as the same time. He collapse on your chest and you played with his hair. You didn't speak for a little bit, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Estoy feliz aqui" (I am happy here) He says as he kisses your chest.

The End

#armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #jacob scipio #bad boys

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newfoundstateof · 3 days

Text

but she fell in love with an english man | b.b. x reader

summary: Academy friends drag Benedict to a tavern to watch Irish fiddle player!reader perform. He buys her a drink. But who can play a fiddle and drink a pint at the same time?

word count: 1.2k

warnings: suggestive but none

a/n: definitely not inspired by those tiktoks of dirty talk bar maids at ren faires, who said that???

“They are spectacular,” Rupert Norton declared with an arm slung over Benedict’s shoulder.

The rest of the Royal Academy students hummed in agreement. Already drunk from the party they left minutes ago, a small group of them stumbled down the cobbled streets of Soho. Earlier that night, news broke that a band that visited a few weeks before Benedict enrolled at the Academy had returned to much anticipation. In an instant, pipes were dropped, coats were gathered, and boots were marching to The Intrepid Fox tavern.

“They’re from Ireland,” someone said.

“I’ve never danced so much in my life,” another added.

“And the fiddle player is quite easy on the eyes,” Rupert slurred into Benedict’s ear. “Try and buy her a drink if you can. That usually gets her attention.”

Benedict laughed. “I’m just here to enjoy the music. As should all of you scoundrels.”

Once inside the tavern, a few of the men beelined to the bar to order whiskey shots for the fiddle player despite the empty stage in the corner. Benedict simply took a seat at the bar, observing the growing crowd. The band’s reputation must have preceded them, as he was soon shoulder to shoulder with the eager fans. But for the next twenty minutes, only chatter filled the room.

“They always like to keep you waiting,” Rupert grumbled into his ale. “But it’s worth it, I promise.”

“I don’t mind,” Benedict smiled. “It’s good people watch-”

The room erupted into cheering, and he turned toward the stage. Sure enough, two men climbed the small wooden platform. One carried a fiddle, the other a flute. The room roared even louder when you emerged with your fiddle, waving a good-natured hand to the audience. Your smile was wide and disarming. Your gaze was equally piercing. Looking at the gleam in your eyes, Benedict knew just how aware you were of your control over the room. Soon the clapping died down, and every soul waited with bated breath to what you would say.

A scrawny kitchen hand hurried up to you and set a tray of shots down on a small barrel.

“Wow,” you breathed. “All this for little old me?”

Benedict found himself chuckling with everyone. As you threw a shot back, his stomach dropped. You were certainly not like the young ladies of the ton.

“This crowd is mighty impressive, isn’t it, boys?” you asked your bandmates as you all started tuning your instruments. “We appreciate you for coming out. If you don’t know us already, the lad on the flute is Johnny. My fellow friend on the fiddle is Patrick. And I’m Y/N. I have a favor to ask of you all… From now until the last of you sorry lot leave this building, I hereby decree this an Irish pub! That means we will be clapping along to the songs, singing if you know the words, and if you are so inclined, I would love to see some dancing tonight.”

Someone in the audience whistled, evoking more cheers.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” you grinned.

The trio launched into Seven Drunken Nights, a popular jig even Benedict knew. Though his classmates were rowdily singing along, he could only stare at you. Johnny and Patrick generally kept to their places on stage, but you swayed across, drawing your bow theatrically compared to Patrick’s controlled movements. He was the main vocalist, but during the wife’s lines in the song, you sang with the crowd.

“Ah, you’re drunk, you’re drunk, you silly ol’ fool. Still, you cannot see, that’s a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me!”

Benedict couldn’t decide if you were a better fiddle player or singer, you were impeccable at both. But without a doubt, you were the best at simply putting on a show. You encouraged people to dance along as you skipped across the stage. Benedict could only imagine how taxing it was for you. Dancing, singing, and playing an instrument all while not breaking a sweat. He eyed the tray of shots, turned to the nearest bartender, and ordered something more refreshing for you.

As you strung out the last note of Seven Drunken Nights, the same kitchen hand ran the mug of beer up to your tray. You sighed to yourself.

“Which one of you did this?” you cried out, lifting the mug high.

Heads spun every which way. Benedict froze. Was liquor the only appropriate drink to tip a musician? He wasn’t sure, he’d never been to something like this. Awkwardly, he coughed and raised his hand.

Your eyes found him in the sea of faces, and you smirked. “Don’t be shy, come here!”

Rupert clapped Benedict on the back. “Don’t screw this up, Bridgerton. She might go home with you tonight.”

Though he had been with many women and dangerously close with a few men, you still intimidated him somehow. Nothing intimate had been on his mind before Rupert’s comment, but now his heart skipped a few beats at just the thought of it. Benedict snaked through the crowd, trying to read the expression on your face. But all you looked was smug, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you poured the ale on his head.

“Finally,” you breathed as he stood before you. “One of you buys a lady a real drink!”

He exhaled in relief.

“I’m afraid I’m quite thirsty though,” you pout, getting down on one knee. The stage was barely a foot off the ground, putting your face directly in front of Benedict’s wide shoulders. “And we need to get on with the next song, but I don’t have enough hands. Would you help me, good sir?”

Without waiting for his response, you shoved the drink in his hands and looked up to the ceiling. Before Benedict could blink, you were poising your instrument and drawing out a note with your bandmates following suit.

“We’re lucky I don’t sing in this one,” you smile, giving him a pointed look. “Get on with it, now. I’m parched.”

Never one to argue with a lady, Benedict slowly tilted the rim of the glass to your lips and poured the liquid steadily down your throat. You looked up through your lashes at him, daring him to look away. But he didn’t. Only when some of the ale dripped down your chin and onto your bodice did his gaze break yours.

“Should I stop?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No,” as much as you could with your lips around the glass.

As you neared the last dregs, your head tilted back more and more to get it all. The eroticism of it all was not lost on Benedict, especially as you swallowed the last gulp and moaned audibly. The growing friction in the front of his pants was no help. But once the glass was finished, you rose to your feet and sent him off with a wink. As you spun to the other side of the stage, the hem of your skirt brushed his groin and he mindlessly reached for the fabric. But you were gone. In a trance, Benedict walked backward to his friends at the bar, adjusting himself.

“Has she done that before,” he coughed.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Rupert crowed. “And I’ve seen them perform at least five times since I started at the Academy.”

“You’ve got to talk to her after, Bridgerton,” someone urged.

“Can I come along?” a voice teased.

“You’re the luckiest bastard on earth right now,” another sighed.

Across the room, you caught him starring and blew him a quick kiss.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Luckiest bastard on earth.”

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milkloafy · 15 hours

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STUCK WITH YOU — BLADE

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you get sick and blade is wondering how the hell he got stuck having to take care of you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: sickfic, fluff, swearing, gn!reader, stellaron hunter!reader, reader doesn’t like room temp water LMAO only ice cold, blade’s kinda mean but a softie trust me u.u ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.8k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: i haven’t written for blade in ages so i am very rusty but i hope u enjoy <3 this is a self-indulgent fic i wrote while sick and bed-ridden yesterday :c if any of y’all got the summer cold/flu too i hope u feel better !! :>

You felt like shit and the last thing you needed was someone threatening you to get better.

It would have been one thing if those threats worked in scaring your illness away. But you were certain that it did the opposite of help— It simply gave you an unwanted headache instead.

“Can you stop glaring at me whenever I blow my nose?” you demanded with a sniffle, tossing your tissue into the trashcan Blade so graciously placed next to your head.

“Can you stop blowing your nose so loudly?”

You glared at him, responding by grabbing another tissue and blowing your nose even louder. You winced at the force, feeling a slight throb in your head from the overexertion.

With an ever-present scowl on his annoyingly handsome face, Blade shook his head at you. You could practically sense the disappointment and annoyance radiating from him. “Don’t make yourself feel worse.”

“I’m not trying to,” you said, choosing to lay back down on your bed rather than arguing with him.

Your throat was sore, your nose was both runny and stuffy with no in-between, your muscles were achy, and your body was tired. There wasn’t much fighting spirit left for you to spare in your current state. Hence, the reason the Stellaron Hunters had Blade stay behind on the mission until you recovered enough to join everyone. Why they didn’t leave someone more personable and caring like Sam behind was beyond you. But you supposed you should be grateful Elio let anyone stay behind instead of having you recover alone.

Coughing, you reached for a glass of water to moisten your throat only to find it already empty. You groaned to yourself, the thought of having to get up from your warm and cozy bed to fill up your water in the cold, cold kitchen made you shiver.

With a sigh, Blade exited your room while muttering a quick, “Stay put.”

You blinked blearily, eyes barely able to follow his quick-moving figure out the door.

In a flash, Blade returned with two separate cups—one filled with clear water, and the other with warm tea. He set them both down on your nightshade, collecting your empty glass to clean in the sink.

“Thank you,” you murmured, touched that he brought you drinks without you having to ask. You grabbed the glass of water first, letting out a giggle when you saw the single ice cube floating on the top. With a smile, you questioned, “One ice cube?”

Blade shrugged, a nonchalant look on his face that one could easily mistake as uncaring. “You don’t like room temperature water. If I brought warm water to you, you would rather die of dehydration than drink it.”

A nodded sheepishly, unable to deny what came out of his mouth.

“Still, you need fluids to feel better. I figured one ice cube might be enough to satiate you.”

Staring at the melting ice cube, you assumed it didn’t do much to help the temperature of the drink, but the thoughtfulness of your fellow Stellaron Hunter was enough to coax you into drinking it regardless.

“That’s…surprisingly sweet of you,” you said, taking a sip of water. It was, in fact, not cold enough for you, but you still pushed onwards. “Thanks, Bladie.”

The scowl on his face deepended. “Don’t call me that. And drink the tea. I put honey in it since its anti-inflammatory.”

“Your frown lines are forming prematurely,” you jested, setting the glass of water aside to pick up the steaming cup of tea. The warm mug felt hot against your skin and you felt a droplet of sweat forming on the side of your head. In the blink of an eye, you threw the blankets off your body and fanned yourself dramatically with one hand. You shared a look with Blade. “It’s too hot for tea.”

“It’s not too hot, you just have a fever,” he said with annoyance, walking over to the thermostat and turning down the temperature regardless of his words. “But you can wait for it to cool down then—”

Before he finished his sentence, you had already taken a sip of the drink. Immediately, you felt a burning sensation on the tip of your tongue and jumped. “Ow!” you yelped, placing the mug down and glaring at it. “That’s hot!”

Blade glared at you. “Tea is typically made from hot water. I just told you to wait for it to cool down.”

“But you said that after you told me to drink it!” you sniffed, nursing your tongue by dipping it into the lukewarm glass of water. “You can’t give a sick person mixed signals like that.”

“You’re sick, not incompetent.” He paused. “Not more than normal, at least.”

“Hey!” you protested. At the sudden overuse of your voice, you felt your throat growing more irritated. You coughed and coughed, taking in deep breaths of air to stop yourself.

He folded his arms as he scolded you, “Don’t overexert yourself. Get some rest.”

With tears forming around your eyes from coughing, you matched his haughty expression. You croaked out, “You’re naggy. Did you know that?”

“Only to those who don’t listen.”

“You tell me like a million different instructions! How can I listen?” you retorted, your headache coming back as your shoulders tensed in irritation.

When he noticed your slight wince of pain, Blade sighed and relented. He walked over to the side of your bed and picked up the cup of hot tea. With a blank expression, he blew the surface of the drink, cooling it down until the steam went away.

“Here,” he said as he held out the cup to you. “Now drink.”

Your stared open-mouthed at the drink. You felt as if he was giving you whiplash with his crass words and caring actions. You didn’t quite know how to feel, but you knew you were at least a bit grateful.

Carefully, you sipped the cup of tea Blade gently (and begrudgingly) placed in your hands. This time, you did not feel the scalding heat burn your tongue.

“Thank you,” you said, chugging as much of the tea as you could. “It wasn’t hot that time.”

He nodded in response, stepping away from the side of your bed once he confirmed you finished your drink. Blade studied you as you laid back in bed, closing your eyes to try to soothe all your ailments. It didn’t work, but you would certainly keep trying.

Without the blankets covering you, you felt cold again despite the sweat you felt gathering on your forehead. You heard rustling and the clanging of glasses next to you.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Blade walking away with the dirty cups in hand, muttering something about how he wasn’t your maid. You smiled weakly, knowing he was doing his best to take care of you regardless of his bitching and moaning.

Blade returned with a slightly damp washcloth in hand, folded perfectly into a compact rectangle. You sniffled through your stuffy nose, watching as he held out the washcloth to you, before taking it back last minute. Confused, you pulled your hand back as well.

“I’ll just do it. Before you mess up somehow,” he said, leaning down by your side and placing the damp washcloth on your forehead.

The instant he placed the towel on you, cool relief coursed through your body. You shivered at the sensation, letting out a noise of satisfaction.

You peeked one eye open, looking at Blade with another sheepish expression. “Thank you. Again…”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me.”

“I do!” you insisted, staying as still as a board despite the passion in your voice. “I know you would rather be out on a mission right now, following Elio’s script with the others. But instead you got stuck here taking care of me.”

He folded his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s not your fault. Kafka forcibly volunteered me.”

You chuckled lightly at that. It certainly seemed like something Kafka would do. Either to annoy Blade, tease you, or irritate the both of you just for fun.

“You just need to get better soon,” he said as if it were that simple. “Then we can both get back on the field.”

“Is that why you’ve been such a good little nurse, Bladie?” you teased, touching your fingertips to the cool washcloth on your forehead.

He glared at you, but there was no anger behind the expression. “Call me that one more time and you will see what happens.”

“Will you bring me more hot tea to burn my tongue on?” you asked in mock horror. Despite his menacing-sounding threats, you knew Blade would never hurt you.

“I’ll bring you room temperature water with no ice,” he promised blankly.

Your mouth dropped in surprise and you shook your head fervently, the small towel falling off your face. “No, please! I won’t call you Bladie again.”

Blade rolled his eyes at your dramatics but immediately went to pick up the fallen washcloth. “Stop moving around like that. You’re going to make your headache worse.”

“Sorry, mother.”

He scowled and plopped the washcloth back on your forehead, less gently this time than the first. You stuck your tongue out at him in response before feeling another fit of coughs come your way.

Once you managed to soothe your throat and gather your breath, you sighed. “I hate being sick.”

“Then drink more fluids and go to sleep.” Blade grabbed the glass of water from your nightstand and began to walk out with it. “I’ll get you some more before you try to rest.”

Closing your eyes shut, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself despite your discomfort. He had a rough exterior, but he surprised you with how much effort he put into helping your sick self out.

His hidden thoughtfulness was enough to stir something in your stomach—butterflies, you hoped, and not an unwanted stomach bug to add to your list of ailments. It was unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome.

Blade entered your room one last time for the night, bringing you a new glass of water with a single ice cube, and a fresh new washcloth folded to perfection.

You giggled, noticing his attentiveness to detail. “Thank you, Bladie. I really appreciate all of this.”

He sighed but didn’t argue when he heard that nickname. Thankfully, he did not take the ice cube out of your water and hand the glass to you lukewarm.

“You are so… You’re welcome,” he relented, replacing the damp towel on your forehead with a fresh and cold one. “Now, hurry up and recover.”

“I’m trying,” you laughed, no longer annoyed by his impatience. “I’m sure I will, with you doting on me like this.”

“I don’t dote.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bladie,” you sang softly, your eyes finally feeling heavy after drinking more water and relaxing your muscles with the help of the cool washcloth. “I’m finally getting sleepy…”

He nodded. “That’s good.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, your voice drifting into a sleepy mumble. “‘M tired. Goodnight… Blade.”

There was a long pause before you heard Blade’s response while you drifted off into a deep slumber. “Get well soon, Y/N.”

#blade x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr blade #blade x you #blade x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail #hsr fluff #blade fluff #sickfic #hsr imagines #honkai imagines #honkai x reader

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msnameless · 2 days

Note

I dont know if u write dubcon but can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE write a reader who’s self esteem is so low that she decides to break up with gojo only for gojo to aggressively ruin her insides + body worship hehe

I'm not sure if I captured the vibe but i tried lol.

feel free to send asks as alw

❍ ࣪⁎⁺Insecurity⁎⁺˳ .

Gojo Satoru x Reader

You try to break up with Gojo Satoru due to your insecurity but he's having none of that.

(1.5k words, oneshot)

"I can't do this anymore."

"Do what anymore, sweetheart?" Gojo cocked his head and grinned at you mischievously.

"Us, I don't...I just can't. I'm sorry," you stood up and began leaving much to Gojo's alarm.

"Woah woah, hold your horses, little missy," your wrist was tugged back by your boyfriend-turned-ex. Gojo was upon you in a flash.

"Where do you think you're running off to?"

A pair of electric blue eyes burned into yourself as Gojo peered at you intensely. His gaze scanned over you as if trying to uncover a conceivable reason why you'd want to end the relationship. You felt your hairs prick up and shoved him away, mortified.

The silence that hung between the both of you stretched into forever, though in reality, it lasted for merely 3 seconds. Gojo looked astounded, all traces of playfulness now gone.

"What do you mean?" he asked concerned.

"Look, if this is about your leftovers that I-"

"Gojo, please just leave me alone," you begged earnestly, hoping your voice wouldn't break and lead to a meltdown.

You wanted to leave before it could happen, stumbling out the door, heading straight home.

The truth was you had always noticed the sheer gap between you and Gojo in all aspects possible, whether it be in terms of physical attractiveness or power. Everyone knew Gojo Satoru, the most powerful Jujutsu sorcerer in the world, the only one to have been born with the Six-Eyes and limitless technique in the last 400 years. He drew eyes whenever he walked into a room, that confident stride promising an easygoingness that came from knowing you would always be far above everyone else.

You knew what people must've thought when they saw you as his girlfriend. You were a mere wallflower, not even deserving of a second glance. You hated it whenever people stared at you for a second longer than you thought necessary, imagined their withering judgement as they took you in with disdain. You felt your clothes tighten, and every flaw on your body became more noticeable than ever.

You compared yourself with just about anyone. Gojo was surrounded by plenty of attractive people such as Shoko Ieiri, and you felt like an ugly duckling amongst them. But you had to hide it. After all, you were Gojo Satoru's girlfriend.

Thus, you began trying to change yourself in a desperate hope that you'd be happier with yourself, going on diets, and working out rigorously.

Nothing ever lasted. You would always go back to your normal self. Disgusting self, was what you thought. The mirror was a dreadful reminder of what you were when you glanced into it every day, and soon that got covered up, too, like your body. All the while, you acted your usual on the outside, keeping up the mask that served to hide your self-loathing.

Things escalated when you feared physical contact with Gojo, thinking that whenever he hugged you from behind, all your rolls of fat could be felt. The insecurity became so crippling that you were utterly miserable until you finally decided to end your relationship with him.

For the next 2 days, you kept to yourself at home, ignoring the incessant texts from Gojo before you blocked him. You thought things were finally over until your door got broken down, blasted open on its hinges by Gojo.

"Oops, didn't mean to be so rough," he shrugged as he strode in.

"Now then. Enough is enough."

The next second, you were lifted up and set in front of Gojo.

"What's your problem, lady? You thought you could just break up with me without a reasonable explanation?" he scoffed.

"Tell me why or I'm not leaving," he demanded.

You tried to speak, but a lump in your throat left you mute. How would you begin to explain the inferiority you felt compared to him? Gojo waited for you patiently, but your voice had vanished.

"If this is about thinking you're not good enough, you'd better stop now," Gojo warned.

He snickered at your questioning look.

"I'm more observant than people give me credit for. Did you think I wouldn't see the way you shy away from my hugs?" he pouted before sighing dramatically.

"This is an emergency, I can't have my sweetheart hating herself, now can I?" he mumbled, hand holding his chin in thought.

"Got it! I guess I'll just have to drill it into you then," he smirked, eyes darkening as he pressed feather kisses from your forehead to your eyes, cheeks, lips, neck, making his way down slowly. Compared to his kisses, his rough hands caressed your body urgently, kneading and stroking all the places where you used to allow him to do so before growing insecure.

"I love you here, here, here..." he whispered sensually, starting to life your shirt over your head but you stopped him, afraid of being bared.

"Don't-"

Gojo silenced you with a kiss, biting harshly on your lips.

"Uh-uh, let me work my magic and make you feel real good, kay?" Gojo grinned maniacally.

You didn't dare to speak under his feral gaze and he took it as a sign to continue.

The air hummed with electricity. You felt your body flush as the room turned stuffy, becoming indescribably hot. Gojo's touches burned your skin and you could feel a raw desire pooling in your stomach as his fingers danced all over the curves and dips of your body.

You were helpless under Gojo's ministrations and soon laid under him in all your glory.

It had been too long for Gojo since he was allowed to admire you. After all, you had distanced yourself from him and it was now time to make up for what he missed out on. Gojo paused his teasing and looked down at you before opening his mouth.

"Buckle up, sweetheart."

All you remembered of the next few hours was pure bliss as well as you and Gojo chanting each other's names like a mantra. He slammed into you over and over again, never faltering, all while whispering sweet nothings into your hair. Your body was stretched to its limits and the sensations made you see stars in your vision. It was too much yet never enough at the same time.

His long and slender fingers constantly prodded in and out of you, swiping and circling where he knew it felt irresistible. Impossibly quick, tantalizingly slow; over and over again in a vicious cycle, to the point where it had you begging for his sadistic torture to end, granting you release. Gojo knew your body better than yourself, and could rely on his deft fingers alone to strip you of your defenses.

Gojo worked himself to the bone, playing you like an instrument expertly as you tried but failed to stifle noises that would make a sailor blush.

You almost came multiple times, just for Gojo to stop after driving you to the edge and pulling you back again. He frowned at you in mock disappointment.

"I don't like it when you cover yourself," he taunted derisively. From then on, Gojo made sure your mouth was free to make any noise he wanted you to, unless of course he chose to fill it up himself personally.

The taste of salt and passion permeated your senses, prompting you to understand exactly what it meant to be claimed by Gojo.

Ruffling your hair, Gojo kept praising you, coaxing climaxes out from your body time after time. It was almost too much and you trembled from the insistent stimulation.

"Just like that, one more time? You're doing so well," he cooed. Even if you couldn't, you had to. Gojo never halted his actions to let you catch your breath. In and out, in and out, Gojo moved at a speed that was more beast than man. You howled his name, unsure if you were pleading for him to cease and desist or continue.

As the moon shone and sparkled in its obsidian tapestry that was the peaceful night, you and Gojo danced the devil's tango, with Gojo leading. Bodies colliding, breaths mixing, hands entangling, your eyes never dared to leave Gojo's as he demonstrated personally his affections towards you.

He had you enchanted with the way he looked, groaning at the sight of you and kissing anywhere he could on your body. Saliva and sweat pooled together, glimmering on your skins.

Gojo's eyes sparkled brighter than the stars as he stared down at your body ardently, raking over everything. Bodies still connected, he clasped your hand and linked your fingers together, bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours, Gojo kissed every single one of your knuckles.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" he sighed.

"I never want to stop loving your body."

The next morning, your body was littered with black and purple marks, a reminder of what went down the night before. You stumbled getting out from bed and was caught in Gojo's embrace. He chuckled amusedly, hair tousled from slumber.

"Woah there, looks like someone had too much fun last night. Your legs still working or nah?" he teased.

You shrieked and whacked him in response.

"Seriously, I love you just the way you are. You're gorgeous in my eyes and that's all that matters," Gojo mumbled, head lying above yours.

Gojo's voice then took on a more lethal edge.

"Or do we have to start this ritual of worshipping you every night?"

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #msnameless

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jeankluv · 1 day

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I told you so- Utahime Iori

summary: You and Utahime had a fleeting love affair when you were young, but tired of Utahime not being brave enough to admit your love or show it in public, you decided to leave. 10 years later you meet again and seeing her again only confirms that you are still in love with her.

paring: Utahime x fem!reader

tags: +18, angst, explicit smut content, oral sex, scissoring, mentions of gojohime(?), mentions of arranged marriages, mentions of satosugu, happy ending, no use of y/n, all characters are in their late 20s early 30s

words: 3k

notes: before pride month ended I needed to post this. I love Utahime sooooo much and I came up with this idea but I didn’t know if I should post it or not because there are not a lot of Utahime fics/one shots but I decided to give it a try. So everyone please enjoy. Also I still recovering, after hurting my shoulder but gladly it’s not my dominant arm so it’s fine 🤗

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

You looked at her, trying to hold your breath and trying not to jump, but you were one second away from breaking down. But you couldn’t scream at her, not her.

“Listen.” Utahime spoke, holding the sheets against her chest.

“I get it.” You murmured. “For you this means nothing.”

“No!” Utahime shouted. “That’s not what…”

“Listen ‘Hime, I know you don’t want us to go out as a couple. I know for you it will be hard.” You turned around and grabbed your clothes. “But I can’t… I can’t keep going like this. I don’t want to call it off but we can’t keep going like that.” You looked at her. “I don’t want to be your secret.”

“Please just…” She tried to grab your hand.

“Utahime I think this is the best way.” You said, holding back your tears. Gathering courage, you looked into her eyes. “But Utahime, you can kiss a hundred boys in bars but I know you won’t be able to stop this feeling.” You said talking about what you felt whenever you were together. “So, good luck babe.”

You left the room, putting on the dress that you had taken off with so much haste and anxiety last night. You had gone from ecstasy, from the heat of each other, from the wet kisses of both of them and your bodies knowing each other perfectly to waking up that morning, facing the feelings you had had since high school, so that Utahime would tell you that your “love” could not get past those walls.

You knew that Utahime repressed those feelings out of fear, fear of many things. Fear of her family, of what they will say, fear of the looks. But you wanted to protect her, you wanted her to feel proud to walk with you down the street while you held your hands and showed your love. But that didn't seem to have worked and you were already too exhausted to continue fighting.

With giant steps you left the apartment without looking back. That day you not only lost the love of your life, but also one of your best friends and that destroyed your heart.

10 years later

Shoko had invited you to eat after you called her to tell her that you had returned to the city, now you were both happily eating in one of the many restaurants in the city.

“I missed this.” You said.

Shoko nodded with a smile. “Me too, it’s been so long. You left for college and have been out for how long?”

“10 years this year.” You shrugged.

“God.” Shoko gasped. “A lot of things have happened and changed since then.” She shook her head. “You probably don’t know, since you both fought but Utahime got married.”

You pursed your lips. "Oh really?" You faked a smile. "I'm happy for her."

Shoko never knew about your affair and you doubt Utahime would have told her. Even though it had been 10 years since you and Utahime had met, you couldn't deny that you were still completely in love with her. Of course in those 10 years you had had a partner, but none had ever filled you up like Utahime had done.

“You could fix whatever happened between you.” Shoko said, bringing you back to reality.

You shook your head. “I don't think it's possible.”

She sighed. “You really are the same.” She said in a whisper. “Anyways, are you coming to the party?”

You smiled. “Of course Shoko.”

The day of Shoko's party arrived and you opted for a tight dress, which highlighted your figure. Meeting the guests, you walked around the place with a smile, most of them were new faces that you didn't know, but there was the occasional face that seemed familiar to you and that had probably been a classmate of yours in high school, but you honestly didn't remember them.

After a while you went out to the balcony, looking for some air and tranquility away from all the noise of people.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes when you heard the balcony door open, your moment of peace over faster than you would have liked.

But then your name sounded behind you and you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. Her sweet voice still sounded the same as it did ten years ago. With your heart in your throat you turned slowly, meeting those brown eyes. Utahime was in front of you 10 years later and she looked beautiful, if that were possible. Your heart began to beat strongly in your heart and you felt like you had no words left. You were still too in love with her.

“You are here.” She whispered.

You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I… I came a few days ago and Shoko invited me.” You tried to put a smile on your face.

She nodded. “That’s great.”

It could have been 10 or 20 years but you knew her too well to know that her voice sounded hurt and that she was about to cry. You wanted to walk up to her and wrap her in your arms, but you couldn't, you shouldn't. It was then that your eyes landed on the ring resting on Utahime's left hand and a knot formed in your stomach.

“Shoko told me you got married.” You forced a smile. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Utahime looked at you. “Are you?” She whispered.

You swallowed and looked down. “Of course.”

“I know you are lying.” She said.

“And what do you want me to say Utahime?” You looked at her. “That I’m still in love with you? Well yes I am and seeing you standing here right in front of me and seeing how my whole body and soul reacts it’s only proof of that.”

You saw how Utahime’s chest rose and how her eyes looked at you with intensity. Your name being just a whisper on her lips she took a step forward. But soon enough she was interrupted by a male voice.

“Utahime, you are here.” The tall guy entered the balcony. “I was looking for you like crazy.”

You looked at the guy and then back at Utahime, you assumed it was her husband. Biting your lip, you coughed and the man stared at you.

“Oh, hi I didn’t see you there.” He smiled.

“No problem.” You shook your head with a smile.

“Satoru.” Utahime finally spoke. “She is a friend of mine.” She introduced you.

“Oh nice to meet you, I’m Utahime’s husband.” He greeted you with a smile and you felt a punch in the face as those words came from his mouth.

“Nice to meet you.” You faked your smile. “Now if you excuse me I need to leave.” You said passing by.

Without turning to look at her, you walked as fast as your feet could allow you, feeling how that knot in your stomach was getting bigger and bigger. Your gaze searched for Shoko and you saw her animatedly chatting with more people. Walking over to her, you grabbed her arm.

“I’m leaving.” You whispered to her ear.

“Already?” She said with a sad look.

“Yeah, tomorrow I have some stuff to do and I don’t want to oversleep.” You lied. “I will call you okay?” Shoko nodded and you walked out of that party.

Feeling how your heart was still pounding and at the same trying holding not to break up from that love.

Utahime Iori pov

Utahime rolled over once again on the bed. She hadn't been able to sleep since she and Satoru had arrived at the apartment. Sitting on the bed she clutched her head and sighed heavily.

Utahime rarely regretted things, but there was one thing he had been regretting for 10 years. And it had been not stopping when you walked out the door of her apartment that day. Because when you told her that that feeling that you loved and shared would never be repeated even if she kissed a hundred boys... oh how right you were.

I should have stopped you, told you that I loved you and that I would face anything for you. But Utahime was a coward and now she resented it.

Getting out of bed, she looked at the side of the bed and saw it empty, something that didn't surprise her in the least. She left the room and to her surprise she ran into him there.

“You are already back?” She whispered.

“I told you it was not going to take long.” He said back.

“Satoru you know, that I don’t mind if you spend the whole night with him.” Utahime crossed her arms and walked to the refrigerator.

“I know but since we are married.”

“You know our marriage is fake.” She said. “You don’t love me and I don’t love you.” Satoru looked at her. “Romantically, you know I do care for you.”

“Good.”

“You were a pain on my ass but now you are almost like my best friend.”

“Almost?” He said offended, Utahime rolled her eyes. “It was her?” Satoru then suddenly asked.

Utahime froze and nodded after a few seconds. “Yes…” She said with a thin voice.

“Utahime…” Satoru sighed and approached her. “You know we can always end all this show.”

“But our families…” She whispered.

Satoru laughed. “We are both CEOs of our families companies, we are not kids like back then.” Utahime looked at him. “I know you are not happy and we will never be happy in this fake marriage, we work well but there will never be that love between us. And you know that.” Utahime closed her eyes. “I saw how you looked at her and I have seen that look before.”

“Where?” She asked.

“It was the same look Suguru had when I told him I needed to marry you.” He sighed. “A gaze of logging mixed with a feeling of losing something dear to you.”

Utahime stifled a sigh and looked at Satoru. “I wanted to go after her.” She said with glassy eyes. “Tell her that I love her and love her then too. I wanted to go… but I'm a coward.”

“Don’t say that.” Satoru said. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have lost Suguru, it was thanks to you that I didn't give up and I don't know how many years may have passed for you but you still love her and…”

“She also told me that she still loved me.”

Satoru smiled. “So what are you waiting for, go get her.”

“Satoru, I don't even know where she is.”

“Call Shoko.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“It's 4 in the morning!” She protested.

“Come on try it.” He said. “How romantic would it be if you showed up at her door at 4 in the morning, confessed your love, and the two of you melted into a passionate kiss?”

“God you are unbearable.” Utahime rolled her eyes and dialed Shoko's number. “Shoko! Hello… yes I'm sorry but it's urgent.” She said with her heart fluttering. “I need you to give me an address.”

Your POV

A knock on your apartment door made you wake up. It was still dark outside and the clock on your phone didn't read past 4:30 in the morning. In silence you approached the door and looked through the camera to see who was the person who was knocking on your door with so much force. Your lips dried when you saw the figure on the other side. Taking a moment to breathe, you pinched your cheek, making sure you were awake.

With a trembling hand, you grabbed the knob and pulled it open. “Uta…”

“I love you.” Utahime said before you could ask anything. “I have always have. And I was a cowardly idiot for not stopping you that day. For letting you go.”

You looked at her and had to mentally remind yourself that she was real and that she was there. “No, you…” You shook your head.

Utahime said your name again and you looked at her. “I love you, I love you too much and… I don't want, I don't want to lose you, not again.”

“You are married.” You told her, shaking.

She shook her head. “It's not real. Satoru and I got married for our families but we don't love each other, we've never been together, we were just pretending.” She looked at you with her big brown eyes, which you were too weak for.

“But… your family.”

“I don’t care about them.” She said. “I only care about you, about us.”

You closed your eyes and held your breath. “I love you too.” You whispered.

Utahime walked towards you and cupped your face. “Let’s start over, let’s do it the right way, okay?” She smiled, the both of you were crying. “Satoru and I will go to the lawyer tomorrow to start with everything for the divorce.”

You nodded, whipping away her tears. “I missed you so much.”

Utahime smiled and knocked both of your lips in an urgent kiss, which mixed with the tears that you loved had shed. With clumsy steps you closed the front door and leaned Utahime against it, working your way into her neck, biting it and leaving it full of wet kisses while Utahime's soft moans delighted your ears.

Breaking away from her, you grabbed her hand and led her to your room. The dream you had a few minutes ago was completely gone and had been replaced by the urgency and desire to make love to the beautiful woman in front of you. You got rid of your pajamas and Utahime got rid of her clothes, leaving you both completely naked. Utahime lay down on the bed with a smile and you began to kiss her, first her lips, then her collarbone and then her breasts.

”You've only gotten more beautiful with time.” You whispered against her skin.

“Look who spoke.” Utahime said as she stifled a moan. “When I saw you in that tight black dress, I only had obscene thoughts.” She whispered.

“Oh yeah? Like what princess?” You said with a smile.

“I wanted to get down on my knees and devour you completely and have everyone hear you scream my name.” She said mischievously with a smile on her face.

“Well, it's a shame, because I'm going to be the one who devours you.” You said lifting her legs and placing them on each of your sides. “I hope my neighbors find out how good I make you feel tonight.”

You kissed her lower lips getting a moan in response from her and her hands on your hair, with your tongue you dug her hunt searching for her weak spot. She moaned your name, while she gasped with pleasure and writhed between your sheets while your tongue fucked her.

You looked at her through your eyelashes and smiled when you saw her, all red and full of pleasure. Her mouth was slightly opened and your name was constantly repeated.

You pushed your tongue into her faster, making sure to taste every part of her and making her feel in heaven.

“Oh fuck!” Utahime moaned, arching her back. “I missed you so much!”

With those words you began to suck her clit causing Utahime's moans to only increase. You wanted to taste her again, you wanted to have her like this forever, for her to be only yours.

Her walls tightened around you, she was close you could feel it, you knew her too well. Her moans became increasingly high-pitched and the atmosphere in the room became increasingly hot. With a loud moan she came, her head falling back, seeking to catch her breath.

You turned your head away from her and licked your lips tasting her with a smile.

“That was…” She said with a cracked voice.

“I know.” You smirked, sitting on the bed you grabbed Utahime by the hip and sat her down as well. “You don't think I'm done, do you?”

"I did not expect it." She answered.

Getting into position, you began scissoring, grinding harder and harder against each other. You both started to kiss while the room filled with noises of your moans and the sound of that old bed.

Grinding faster with each passing moment you felt how your body was starting to tremble. You ground your hips into Utahime's as your intimacies collided, sending shockwaves through your sweaty, desire-filled bodies. Grinding your pussies together for a little longer, you both came with a long, agonizing moan that filled the room, which then fell completely silent. Only your labored breaths were audible.

You grabbed Utahime's hips and laid her down, wrapping your arms around her. You felt her pulse and her warmth invading your body and her smell of flowers hit your nose.

Utahime turned to look at you and smiled. “Thank you for not giving up on us.”

You shook your head with a smile being drawn on your face. “I could never give up on us.”

Utahime chuckled softly and your grip tightened around her. “I love you.” She whispered.

“Me too.” You whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“I feel like I'm forgetting something.” Utahime whispered.

“I'm sure it doesn't matter, now let's sleep.” She hummed in response.

And so with your bodies intertwined with each other and feeling your warmth and your heart pumping, you fell into a deep sleep.

———

Extra scene

“It’s been 30 minutes, you think she was able to talk with her?” He said. “Or maybe should I go and check that she is not there crying in the hallway?”

A sighed came from the other side of the line. “Satoru… they are probably having makeup sex.”

“Oh.” Satoru gasped. “You think so Suguru? Oh that will be awesome! There could be two weddings soon.”

“Two weddings?”

“Of course, you and me and them.”

“I don’t see a ring on my finger Satoru.”

Satoru turned the car on and started driving. “Well Suguru, give me 10 minutes and I will be on one knee asking you to marry me, if you want me to be on both knees to do other things we also can.”

Suguru chuckled. “I will be waiting.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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adhdtsukasa · 3 days

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tsukasa tenma has ADHD!! except it's an actual analysis because 1. look at my url 2. i'm mentally unwell (and i started to love tsukasa mostly because i immediately recognized my ADHD traits in him). which is a thing i should probably leave for ADHD awareness month, HOWEVER!! it was my birthday yesterday and i wanted to spoil myself (i just kinda overlooked how much time writing it from scratch would take me, so i'm a bit late with it). and i reaaally don't wanna wait until november when i finally wrote it down because i'm so HYPED because i was preparing for it like what? two years? somewhere around it. and that's a LONG time.

please keep in mind that i'm no psychologist, psychiatrist nor a neurologist and while i do use some sources (cannot really confirm if they are true, though... because i forgot to write credits down... so i'm really sorry for that), most of this analysis was just based off on my personal experiences with the disorder (and i don't really have the full professional knowledge of what i struggle with i'm just a Boy). i mean, i am analyzing a character from a hatsune miku game. i think i'm already putting way too many effort than i should.

also the examples of tsukasa's behavior here are not all of the things, because i wrote down only the things i remember off from the top of my head. sorry, guys. my hyperactive ass is not sitting thru all the stories again just to get my crumbs, unfortunately.

anyways, with this a little bit unprofessional and messy introduction, let's get it started!

1. THE MAIN PART OF THIS WHOLE THING, AKA HOW THE ADHD SYMPTOMS CORRESPOND TO TSUKASA'S BEHAVIOR

i wanted to write it down in my own words, but i think the screen above has summed it up perfectly; there are some established symptoms of ADHD, but to be an ADHDer you don't have to experience them all. and this is going to explain why i'm gonna show a lot of these symptoms later, yet gonna connect only some of them with tsukasa. it's only these i have evidence for, and yet i think they're good enough to point at tsukasa and already say woah! an ADHDer!!

in short, there are three types of ADHD: hyperactive, inattentive (ADD) and combined. the combined one is the most common iirc, so that's also what i'm going to focus on today. especially since for a rep of the other types, i could say that shizuku's a rather great representation of ADD — but that's not the point of my ted talk today, so i'm not going to go into the detail about it. i'm sure some momojan or shizuku oshi would do better than me in this field, so i'm leaving it to the experts.

these are the symptoms that i managed to gather — the first two screens being about the symptoms viewed in children, the last one being about the symptoms viewed in adults. "in which one of them tsukasa belongs to?" that's a good question, because i actually don't know. calling a high schooler a child doesn't sit quite right with me, yet a freshly turned 17/18-years-old is not exactly an adult, either (although most of the symptoms i'm analyzing come from these that are viewed in adults). and while i do think tsukasa has more of the symptoms viewed in adults, we're gonna analyse them all! because i'm putting my all into this.

FORGETFULNESS

i believe there's not much left to say, as this is the most obvious one and everyone already knows that. even though it's not touched that much anymore for some reason, tsukasa's forgetfulness is his very apparent trait. it varies in severity a lot of times: from him basically forgetting both his childhood and true feelings in the main story to him, for example, forgetting his own phone and lunch (in the same day!!) in hinamatsuri. even saki in the same event, while they were arguing, called him a "big, dumb forgetter" and assumed that he forgot what happened the day he brought her the hinamatsuri dolls to hospital. while forgetting basically half of your life is not exactly normal and can be a sign of something bigger, like dissociative amnesia, his forgetting of just the ordinary things and it happening a lot definitely still fits this trait.

EXCESSIVE TALKING/PHYSICAL MOVEMENT

while this is something that you'd rather connect to emu (and for a good reason), it's not like tsukasa is completely devoid of it either; he talks a lot. he moves a lot. it's not on emu's level of hyperactivity, but it's also not "a lot" that's taken as a social norm, based on how the people around him react. he's putting the 1 in oddball 1 2, after all.

in holy night or some side stories connected to it (it might be meiko's side story? but i'm not exactly sure) it was also said that tsukasa moves in his sleep a lot to this point that his parents have to leave his christmas presents under his door instead of next to his bed.

oh, and he also talks to himself a lot. even in class, which was confirmed in chapter 6 of dazzling (or maybe even earlier, it's just the one moment that i remember). (but i'll get to this moment later on)

he says his long monologues, he strikes his poses at every occasion — and while i don't think that's the first thing you think of when you have "excessive talking/movement" in mind, for me it sure does count as it.

LITTLE OR NO SENSE OF DANGER

this point can seem rather weird, because "isn't tsukasa always riddiculed at rui's weird inventions"? well, yeah, he is, that is not a thing to deny. but he also agrees to try out most of them, if not all, if it's for the sake of the show. he's aware of what can happen, but he also doesn't back away if it means that he'll be one step closer to achieving his dream of stardom.

does it count as "little sense of danger"? well, i'm actually not sure, for me it doesn't, but maybe for someone it does. i'd say that's a rather weak point, but i wanted to include the explanation for the counterpoint of it — that's why i even mentioned it in the first place. i don't have a lot to say about this tbh.

update: oh, actually no, wait, i just remembered. remember how tsukasa in phoenix decided to not eat anything for three days just to be able to resonate with rio, while also having to do straining exercise on top of that? you certainly cannot say that's a safe thing to do, but he still went along with that in order to get the role. it makes me come to a conclusion that tsukasa actually has a sense of danger, but sometimes chooses to willingly ignore it if only it makes him get closer to fulfilling his dream. i think it's coming close enough to the little/no sense of danger to be actually considered an ADHD trait.

DIFFICULTY KEEPING QUIET

while i'm not sure if what i'm going to talk about is a difficulty keeping quiet in a traditional sense of way, it definitely counts as it, somehow: tsukasa is loud. like, really loud. and that's another obvious fact both for us and for characters in-universe, especially when thinking of tsukasa shiho's first thought is that he's kinda noisy, which can be seen in the "a friend's brother" 1koma. (and probably a lot of other cases. free shiho.)

tsukasa doesn't seem to realize that he's way louder than he should be and that him being loud is his first impression in most of the cases, though, or at least i don't remember any moment where it happens (and it's a possibility. then that's on me, i guess.). and yeah, i know what's the reason for it, obviously — he's supposed to be a comic relief character. because wansho's stories are mostly supposed to make you smile, as this is what wansho's aspiration is. however, as much as being intended to make the viewer laugh it wouldn't be, it still is a part of tsukasa's character, and a rather important one on top of that. his constant loudness is something that's definitely not considered normal by the society and could very well fit into this symptom.

and since i promised to elaborate on the mentioned before scene from dazzling chapter 6: when tsukasa talks to himself in class, it always ends up to be loud. and it already happened a few times.

(tl by tsukasa's #3 fan on youtube because i don't have proseka on my phone wah)

if it's not a difficulty keeping quiet, then i don't know what is. bro can scream up to 120dB as measured by robonene for god's sake.

IRRITABILITY/QUICK TEMPER

again, this is something that was more apparent with early game tsukasa, maybe he just got medicated. idk man. but even if it happened three, almost four years ago, it still happened, i don't make the rules. back in the early game, tsukasa was really easily losing his temper and getting annoyed, mad even — i mean, that was the whole point of the main story argument: tsukasa's first response to nene accidentally messing up their show, which was not even her fault, was to shout at her. and while this was obviously very important thing to him and being upset at this is a rather understandable reaction, taking this as far as screaming at a poor girl for not being to face the audience because of her anxiety is not something a person who can control their anger would do.

it could be also easily seen by his reaction to emu and rui's antics back in the early game, which were often stained with irritation.

another example is his hinamatsuri argument with saki, where, despite loving her so much, he still got slightly mad at her for not liking the new dolls he bought her. he started to regret his harsh words and actions soon enough, obviously, but it doesn't change the fact that it was rather easy for him to get him across.

INABILITY TO DEAL WITH STRESS

if i'm not mistaken, tsukasa has once said something along the lines of "is it anxiety? there's no way a star like me would feel anxiety" — but i cannot recall for the love of my life in which story it appeared, so i don't want to take it as a face value when i don't have a solid proof for it.

other than this vague mention of "something that's in the story but i don't remember where", i'll admit, i don't really have anything backing me up for this tbf. i mean, i guess maybe tsukasa doing his best to appear strong as a child to not worry his parents could work? because the stress of saki being in the hospital definitely was also present here, although i just see this more as a coping mechanism for his situation than a reaction to stress, so that's not a solid evidence either.

so, yeah. take this one with a grain of salt, actually.

from the symptoms that weren't listed here, i remember reading something about people with ADHD enjoying to show off more, which is certainly what tsukasa does often — and while it actually applies to me too, it wasn't on an english site so i didn't screenshot it and i cannot really find it anywhere in english... so even though i treat it just like my whole argument for the inability to deal with stress, i thought it's just worth mentioning.

however, there is obviously one more thing...

HYPERFIXATION/SPECIAL INTEREST

obviously, i'm talking about acting here: for tsukasa, acting aligns with all these criterias. it is his deep passion; it is something highly engaging for him; it is sometimes all-consuming for him; he tunes out the world around him when he thinks about how can he possibly improve his acting (see: the dazzling moment i showed earlier. yeah, i like to use it as a backing point a lot, as you can see.); and it is something that is his life-long interest.

is it his special interest or his hyperfixation, though? well, it's hard to tell...? because while according to screen two, spinterest revolves around a topic and hyperfixation revolves around an activity, so it would qualify what tsukasa feels towards acting as a hyperfixation, it's still kinda hard for me to call it so because of its length. yes, screen three clearly says that hyperfixation can last years, but they mostly revolve around shorter periods of time, after all (my longest hyperfixation was just a year long, for example). i think it's up to you to determine whether you'd call tsukasa's love for acting a hyperfixation or a special interest, but it's something from these two most certainly.

i'm also a big fan of the headcanon that tsukasa's other spinterest is kaito ww it's in no way a canon evidence (unfortunately!), but kaito's 1* side story, where tsukasa and emu are watching kaito's show and tsukasa is explaining to her why kaito's wearing a scarf somewhat implies that tsukasa knew a thing or two about kaito before the main story. and i'm all for it. colopale let tsukasa be a kaito fanboy pleaseee.

2. I REALLY LIKE ANALYZING SONGS, IF YOU CAN'T TELL

those who have already read a few of my things probably know what i love to do the most — analyzing songs!! so i wouldn't be myself if i just left tsukasa's commisions without analyzing them under the angle of neurodivergence, especially since the sole reason i became obsessed with the thought of ADHD tsukasa was that one sekahaji line (there's too much noise, so much noise and it keeps getting worse you will always be famous).

of course, remember that only the world hasn't even started yet should be taken as a canon value! producers are often given space to do whatever they want in the lyrics of the songs they are commissioned for, so they're not canonical in any way. i think it's still fun to look at their lyrics and ramble about them for a bit, though. i've already got too carried away anyways.

won't be posting photos of the lyrics since i'd hit the images limit, but you can check them yourself — all the translations i'm taking, as always, from the vocaloid lyrics wiki. (since filament fever has two tls on there, i want to clarify that i've only looked at and considered in my analysis the official english one, because it's, well, official.)

THE WORLD HASN'T EVEN STARTED YET

besides the mentioned earlier there's too much noise, so much noise and it keeps getting worse, which i think of as a representation of overstimulation (since i used to see people asking "oh but why tsukasa has something about there being too much noise in a song made out of his feelings when he's such a loud person himself". because he likes the noise he makes, not the overwhelming, overstimulating noise from the outside!!), sekahaji also has a rather good amount of quotes that could be read as something connected to neurodivergence (based on the fact that it's not supposed to be a song about this topic): the main theme of these are procrastination, which can be seen in let's cross the end of all of this, partying forever and the world hasn't even started yet line itself. the thought of the world not even starting implies that there's still a lot of time left to do something, while "partying forever" can refer to deciding to give up on doing the things you should do and going to drown in something that indulges only you and yourself for the rest of eternity. while procrastination is not counted as an official ADHD symptom, it's a trait that people with the disorder very often have (for reasons obvious).

other lines, which i couldn't entirely fit into a box of a certain symptom, are there's too much conflict, so much conflict and it keeps growing (a parallel line to the noise one, so it means something! right) and let's break the plans for a harmonious future. in my personal interpretation, they both can be viewed as your typical neurodivergent struggle in a neurotypical society — "too much conflict" refering to an internal struggle of not being completely normal, while the "harmonious future" that's going to get broken are just the social norms that are going to be broken because of an off-putting, neurodivergent behavior. something that some neurotypical people dooon't really like.

TONDEMO-WONDERZ

since i've just talked about breaking the social norms, "why?!" and "do it like this!!" aren't like you, huh? line from tondemo-wonderz is going to go first, because it revolves around the same topic. it's the same case: it's about (subconscious, not intentional) fighting what's accepted by the society by just being yourself — because you're neurodivergent, you're different.

from the other lines in tondemo-wonderz, i have only one and it's take an eraser to your memories?!, which is pretty much self explanatory. as always, a mention of forgetting something in tsukasa's commision. who would've thought.

88 SHOOTING STARS

another self explanatory line that i have written down as first: it's okay if you only remember a little part of it sometimes. another mention of tsukasa forgor™, and while it corresponds with what happened in dazzling, it's still a line mentioning forgetfulness — so it's worth mentioning.

aren't we just inevitably going around in circles? and it's okay if you take a rest for a little bit sometimes can be interpreted as another mention of procrastination and while it's not that apparent as it was with sekahaji, because going in circles can refer to something else and taking a rest sometimes is not a bad thing at all, i still wanted to mention them here. for the record.

you ought to slip and fall in panic in the final moment is connected to a symptom that i showed, yet didn't elaborate on it (because i didn't have anything to work with) — making careless mistakes. the same case, yet with another symptom goes with is this not enough yet again? is this not how it's supposed to be? couldn't we go even further than this?, which can be seen as a reflection of unability to listen to instructions. a bit of reaching with this one (like this whole part damn), but as i said earlier: for the record, i'm leaving it here. to show that i had some intense thoughts.

tbf, when i think about it now, maybe the mentioned earlier "why?!" and "do it like this!!" aren't like you [...] could very well fit this symptom too.

MR SHOWTIME

mr showtime you will always be famous, because this is a song that gave me a looot of things to work with. i was so flabbergasted when i read these lyrics for the first time. tsukasa tenma why are you like this. /aff

there are a lot of lines hinting being easily distracted, and these are basically the very first ones, too: you know what? i just can't make up my mind, it's so messed up that i can't put my thoughts together and a merry-go-round (my thought process) goes round and round are all about it. like you cannot deny it this time, if it's not about being unable to stay focused then i really don't know what is [insert the tsukasa don't look away stamp here because i love it and it's my biggest motivation to actually focus whenever i do something]. the more i mess around and waste time, the more i become hungry / and i can't handle it can be seen as about procrastination again, and even not "can be seen", it's literally being frustrated at yourself for wasting time, that's the sole outcome of a procrastination!! being bothered by feeling anxious, meanwhile, is resonating with the inability to deal with stress once again.

also jumping the gun. driving in a zigzag manner can actually connected with the little to no sense of danger. because, as far as i'm aware, driving in a zigzag manner is certainly not a safe activity. don't do it at home.

from the symptoms that i haven't yet mentioned to this point, am i taking a long way? am i making a fruitless effort? can be reflecting difficulty organizing tasks — since the poor planning of your activities can make you take a long way and can make you do a fruitless effort. then, where's the fun in taking shortcuts all the time? can be read along the lines of something coming close to extreme impatience and while a person that's extremely impatient would actually enjoy taking the shortcuts to get closer to their goal or destination, said impatience can be also connected with the desire for something interesting to happen. a task can make you impatient not because it's long, but because it's simply boring — avoiding shortcuts can make it less boring, even if it extends its duration. with this explanation, it makes the unexpectedness (unexpected program) is the best part of the show (my life) perfectly fit into this category, even though i wouldn't call this line a sign of impatience on its own.

i have some issues with i'm pathetic. i can't satisfy myself, because... at first i thought of connecting it with either mood swings or inability to deal with stress, however i'm not sure if that's really it. i'm pretty sure it connects to neurodivergence in some way, but i just can't put my finger on it, so... i'm just leaving it here for the record, once again.

oh, and there's also i got lost in the world (stage) and / the end credits rolled (the curtain fell), which also is pretty much summing up the experience of being neurodivergent in the neurotypical society. in the middle of trying to stay true to yourself and having to mask just to be accepted, it's easy to get lost — and once you do so, there's no going back. the curtain falls.

to end this part of the analysis, i'd show the lyrics from filament fever and sekai wo terasu tetrad here. i won't do this, however, and the reason for it is fairly simple — they don't give me much material to work with and i'm not really surprised, because mr showtime has succesfully sucked all of the neurodivergent coded lyrics into itself. there just won't be another song like mr showtime, i fear.

i can just say that in filament fever there is running away from the flow of time — which got me thinking of either procrastination and unability to stick to time-consuming tasks, with the former being more plausible as a potential interpretation... but that would be it.

3. NAKAYAMA IS A METAPHOR FOR NEURODIVERGENT MASKING AND IT'S THE STUPIDEST THING I'VE EVER SAID BUT YOU HAVE TO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS

listen, i know how it sounds.

i'm not actually a fan of trying to fit every thing a character does into a box of a metaphor, symbol or allegory, i really am not. i think some things should just stay as simple as they are, but this thought has been bothering me ever since i've first seen spoilers of what's happening in a story where you're the star for the very first time. i'm in no way saying it has any canonical meaning, but i just thought it would be fun to include. because maaaybe someone sees my vision.

for those who haven't seen tsukasa4 yet or want to have a recap of what has happened in it: the whole event story revolves around tsukasa trying to grasp his role (as always). wxs got recommended to shunmei-za by shousuke and went there to practice their acting skills, immediately getting thrown onto the preparation for their next performance. tsukasa, however, is not a lead this time — he got the role of a supporting character and has got basically three lines to say on stage total. since tsukasa's used to playing lead roles, he obviously has issues with grasping the role — it's hard to use method acting in regards of a character that says three sentences total and nothing more. with help of bakuno reki, one of the actors in shunmei-za, and the rest of wxs, he manages to create a portrayal of nakayama that would make him "come to life" and "be a protagonist of his own story", something that would make it easier for him to get into role, however...

he gets a little bit too carried away with his acting during the actual performance.

and this is not something that would ruin the whole play, obviously, he's just a supporting character, the less invested audience would probably forgot about his impact on the story after five minutes of his last appearance — but he still made a slip-up. he still resonated with his role, but didn't achieve the utmost perfection. he still did well acting, after all, he managed to receive praise from the director in the end... but it's still a very apparent mistake that was made.

(tl, once again, by the awesome tsukasa's #3 fan)

and that's where the nakayama masking metaphor theory (it's not even a theory but it sounds cooler this way) comes in.

nakayama is supposed to be just a man. from what we know about him, he's in his late twenties and works as an editor — and even though tsukasa makes up a whole backstory for him later on, he's still supposed to be ordinary. nothing special. he's coming nowhere near the other roles that tsukasa has played, he's not on the same level as miles, torpe and rio. and while you could possibly consider torpe and rio as rather ordinary, they still had something interesting to happen to them, the main reason why they were lead roles for their respective plays. in the tsukasa4 play, nakayama has nothing like that. he's literally just a guy, he's normal. and "normal" is a keyword here.

tsukasa did everything he could to fit into nakayama's role. he followed the script, he took the advice from a more talented and professional actor that is bakuno, he didn't do any mistakes during his preparations — and yet he still managed to mess up in the end. why?, besides of the fact that he just let himself become one with nakayama during the performance and it resulted in a supporting character outshining the lead?

if we take as a fact that tsukasa is, in fact, neurodivergent, it would make sense that he's having troubles with playing a normal person — because he's not exactly normal either. and this would very well work out as a metaphor of masking; even when you try your best, even when you mask yourself perfectly, you can still make slip-ups. you can still accidentally drop the act in middle of something that absolutely required it, or, similiar to what tsukasa did, can accidentally overdo it and end up perceived as even more weird than you'd be without masking. something something i got lost in the world and the end credits rolled. rings a bell?

and i'm not saying that tsukasa has a problem with masking, because he doesn't. he tries his best to pass as a normal member of society, but he also makes no effort in actively masking his weirdness (or else he wouldn't be a part of oddball one two). however, if you want to neurodivergent code your character, it would make sense to include a possibility of it in some way, right? especially since wxs stories' already had the theme of dealing with being perceived as weird (eg. rui's whole backstory, obviously). even if it's not affecting tsukasa directly, i think it would be cool to include something that indicates this issue's existence in his story and, in a way, his struggles.

however, as i said earlier, this is a very stupid thought and that's why i left it for the very end. i don't actually think that how tsukasa played nakayama was supposed to be a metaphor for masking, it's just a pure coincidence that it could be interpreted like that when you think about it too much.

aaand with this, we've finally come to an end!! (finally. i'm so exhausted.) i don't have anything more to say about this topic. maybe i'll retweet it with some more evidence in the future if we ever get more ADHDkasa content. for now, it would be all!

is tsukasa actually intentionally written as an ADHDer? Who Knows! there's a possibility that he is, but even if he's not, he's still one in my heart. regardless of the status of his possible neurodivergence, analyzing his behavior in this light was still very fun! and maybe i even converted someone into the ADHDkasa hell.

feel free to add something if you want to, and feel free to correct me if i got some things wrong! i still hope that even though of how messy this whole thing is written, i did tsukasa justice and didn't accidentally say too much nonsense lmao

...i hate ending analyses.

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letter-from-afar · 3 days

Text

IKEVIL THEORIES

(CW: JP SPOILERS FOR VOGEL, ENG SPOILERS FOR VICTOR, SPOILER ABOUT KATE IN WILLIAM'S BLIND ROUTE. ALL OF THESE ARE SPECULATIONS.)

VICTOR'S BACKSTORY

• How do you know about this story, Victor? Did she tell you this herself? Or were you her Aide even when the Queen had just ascended to the throne? If so, how old are you actually? So many questions!!

• So Victor hasn’t told this secret to anyone else... Not even William, then?

• Also, why that child in particular? It sounds like he’s implying something here...

• What if he is the child in question?

VICTOR'S PROFILE

• Firstly, the “resent” section on the Villains’ profile usually gives some information that’s directly linked to their past

• This can be applied to the currently released routes: William with his “restrictions on freedom” and Harrison with his “corruption, police” (Liam’s a different case here)

• In Victor’s profile, it’s stated that he resents “being excluded”. Therefore, it’s likely that he has experienced or witnessed an incident related to this in the past

• The most logical conclusion would be that it is related to his status as the Grim Reaper. It’s only natural if he were feared by others for his connection with Death. Perhaps, that’s why he acts cheerful and lively. So that people aren’t afraid of approaching him. However, it has been seen in events that he does have a hidden side to him — one that is much more dangerous —and he even mentions it in his bond story

• The other plausible conclusion is related to my previous theory that he was that child. Though we don’t know at which age he got his curse, we can safely assume that he’s been working in the palace for a long time, potentially before the Crown was created. In such an environment, it’s easy for him to be discriminated against by politicians and other nobles

• The lack of his last name can connect to these two conclusions. Maybe he doesn’t have one because he’s the Grim Reaper. Or... He had no family at all?

• Let’s look at his other sections: skills — dancing, magic tricks, piano

• Dancing and playing the piano are typically the things you’d learn if you were an aristocrat. Especially at a young age

• This disproves my theory of him being that child. But you know what contradicts this? Sewing and baking/cooking are also one of his skills, though not written explicitly here

• You could argue that he learned to do those things for the sake of the Crown, just like with his magic tricks

• But it’s surely more interesting to think, what if he knew these things from a young age? As a means of survival. Because he only had himself for the longest time until Queen Victoria came along

• I know he’s exaggerating his feelings here, but what if it’s true? He feels so lonely, all the time, despite being surrounded by everyone.

• This is addressed towards Harry and Jude, but what if he said this to others before? To stop them from leaving 'cause they didn't want to be around him

• There’s already a lot of theories about the relationship between the Queen and her Aide. Siblings, lovers, friends or even that Victor is the Queen. Who knows?

• Side note: why is Victor always called as eccentric or a weirdo in-game? What has he done to deserve this? He’s just a silly lil guy (called the Grim Reaper)

DARIUS AND VICTOR'S DYNAMIC

• Moving on, here’s why I think Darius could possibly be the rival in Victor’s route or vice versa

• Appearance-wise, they both have contrasting colours. And contrasting personalities, for Victor at least

• Both Lynn and Nica also have whites in their outfits, however, Darius is probably the one with the lightest colours (his golden hair and eyes count too)

• Most of us imagined Victor would’ve been ruthless and wickedly evil based on his dark appearance (not that he isn’t; we simply haven’t seen that side of him). You’d never have expected a villain with the title of Grim Reaper to be some happy-go-lucky single father of 8, would you?

• Darius’ title (not officially translated) is something along the lines of “The Cruel Angel of Distrust”. He’s likely the type to be all polite and kind on the outside while harbouring twisted plans in his mind

• Victor is the leader of Crown whereas Darius is the Chief of Vogel; both organisations have cursed members

• Funnily enough, Darius apparently hates scones. Then there’s the long-haired dad who loves buttering up his scones with EXTRA butter

• Both of them are collecting the Cursed like Pokémon

• He won't hesitate to steal your girl

• Victor, despite his philosophy of freedom, subtly exerts dominance through his words and actions. It’s not that noticeable because of his carefree attitude, but it’s definitely there

• So how would Darius act?

PERSONAL THOUGHTS ON VOGEL

• Vogel appears to follow a uniform code to some extent, most noticeable with Nica and Lynn

• Both of them also have the Vogel organisation symbol separately on a badge like thing?

• Whereas Darius has his on the neck

DARIUS

• What in the world are milk puzzles? Does anyone have an answer? (I've received an answer by @/fictional-men-set-my-standard so thank you!)

• This actually makes me think he really likes the colour white. And by extension, purity. He's also the only one wearing gloves in Vogel (Lynn should be wearing gloves too, fingerless ones specifically)

• Proposal: Darius’ nickname should be Darry (or Darrie if you prefer that spelling)

• As previously mentioned, the “Resent” section of each Villains’ profile tends to be related to their past

• For Darius, it says something like “looking after living things,” which makes me think he could've had a pet that died because of him

• His weapon is interesting, the top part resembles the handle of a cane, while the end is sharp like a sword

• His line, “Hello, Cursed and all. Won’t you join me in creating a wonderful world?” is supposed to make him sound kind, but it’s giving the impression that he has a twisted sense of humanity

• Bet he has something against people who are not Cursed, or treats them differently

• Is he a noble by any chance? His whole look screams rich

• This might be an overreach but I NEED him to be this person from Kate’s childhood

• It could be anyone else but this just feels like it would suit Darius’ nature

• Childhood friend troupe with him aaaaah

NICA

• Both variations of his name are cute (Nika/Nica)

• His “Resents” are something like “deep affection”, which is ironic since he’s apparently a frivolous, cunning man who plays around with love. Does his curse involve something with controlling feelings?

• Maybe inside, he’s deprived of love. All playboys are desperately in need of love in their lives

• He sounds like a good rival for Jude, especially with his interest in money and power. Plus, he knows how to forge a person’s writing, which is handy for messing up contracts

• “I’ll play with you like a toy” — Alfons better watch out you’ve got a new competitor

LYNN (RING)

• And for Lynn, his “Resents” say something like “eating alone”? Which makes me think he could have spent a period of time where he ate all by himself, without Nica, at the dinner table...

• And yes, I’m calling Ring “Lynn” because it's much cuter

• His hobby of sitting in the corner of a room oddly reminds me of a doll (or puppet in this case) thrown away, forgotten

SWAN LAKE

• I’m not at all familiar with the story of Swan Lake, so I had to do some research first

• As with all fairytales, there’s going to be many variations and multiple endings, but I’m going to follow the general plot

• The story primarily involves Rothbart, an evil sorcerer who turns Odette into a swan and prevents the curse from being broken by sending his daughter Odile to fool the prince

• Darius’ last name makes more sense when you relate it to his curse, Rothbart, who was able to transform into an owl

• Befitting an owl, Darius also happens to have a sharp sense of sight and smell

• The organisation being called Vogel makes sense now since all their curses are from the Swan Lake, which heavily involves themes of transformation and birds

• Both Nica and Lynn seem to have the same curse, though I think it’s more fitting for Nica

• He is a sly schemer who manipulates feelings, just like Odile, who does it with the prince, by pretending to be Odette

• Lynn is described as Darius’ puppet, and he’s not exactly villainous, judging by his profile.

• His hobbies, skills, and likes remind me more of Odette, but of course, he can’t be the white swan, right?

FOOD FOR THOUGHT?

• All Villains have Curses based on the respective Villain of their fairytale (or an associated object like the magic mirror in Alfons case)

• Which makes me think... What if “curses” also existed for the heroes? What if, instead of being called the Cursed, such people would be called the “Blessed”?

• And they’d have “blessings” based on the protagonist or good guys of the respective fairytale. And their ending will always be happy

• Unless they try to escape it. You know, do things they shouldn’t. Opening secret doors, entering forbidden forests... And falling in love with Villains

Tysm if you've read this far into my rambling ⁠♡ And don't hesitate to interact and share your ideas on this because I would LOVE to hear it

#please tell me this makes sense #most of these are an overreach but #a girl can dream right?#ikemen villains #ikevil spoilers #ikevil #darius vogel #nica schwarz #ring schwarz #darius #nica #ring #ikevil victor #🧠 brainrots

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moodymisty · 1 day

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*awkward cough*

Mother, I crave luna wolves smut.

(this is my first time sending someone a request *internal panic* so bare with me)

(I'm thinking about the luna wolves bullying a surf fic that you did and now have brainrot.)

Like, imagine being my height (5'1) and having a big "mean" astartes fully aware that I'm sooo horny I'm loosing my mind.

And something about space marines that I can't stop thinking about is how they smell. Like the amount of testosterone.. Their sent has to be immensely horny inducing for a female.

Like- damn. Gigantic, absolutely shredded, smug ass smile and, teasing comments, absolute bastard of a super human. Asking you to do stuff that requires a lot more physical closeness than normal. Getting absolutely wrecked by the astartes smell(TM).

Eventually deciding to "help each other out" hot and heavy Make outs, grinding, humping, neck kisses and neck bites, the absolute WETness, SERIOUS man handling..

Jeez sorry I'm so down bad. Feel free to ignore me lol.

Big fan of your writing, hope you're doing well.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: i am unhinged. Decided to make an actual Luna wolf oc for this one just cause. This idea is my fucking jam but for some reason I had a lot of trouble with this one, I think it's just because I'm getting a bit burnt out finishing the last of the requests. I hope you still enjoy.

Relationships: Artyom(Luna Wolf OC)/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mild NSFW, Grinding, Groping, Some mild manhandling

“Careful.”

The Thunderhawk shakes as the air cools during its ascent, and Artyom puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you in your seat. You don’t have any risk for falling over, but he still does it anyways. You look up at him and give him a small nod in thanks.

The other refugees however are largely fending for themselves, grouped close together and muttering amongst themselves.

You don’t mind not being part of it. You barely know any of them; And throughout this entire ordeal, you've found yourself growing closer to Artyom than any of them. He doesn’t seem to mind, and if anything, seems to find it amusing. During the few times you’d see him wander through the base he’d always make a point to call you out, say hello before returning to his duties.

The other refugees found it odd. While Astartes are respected and admired, being in their attention isn’t seen as the most positive. They are mercurial and unpredictable on the best of days, intimating masses of muscle that can kill with ease; And enjoy doing so.

Artyom is an oddity among the Luna Wolves, to enjoy poking at a human. Even if it's only one, and he regains his stoic, almost sleepy expression when barking orders at any of the others.

Once the Thunderhawk docks into the landing bay of the battlebarge, everyone makes their way off. The Astartes leave silently other than an apothecary who ushers the refugees along to where they’ll stay before being placed. More than likely the first Imperium port they come across, where they'll become the Imperium Guard's logistical problem.

You move to follow along with them, assuming that will be your place, but Artyom grabs you before you have the chance. His hand claps your shoulder, nearly painfully heavy from the size and weight of his gauntlet.

“Come with me instead.”

You look up at him before following closely, halls rapidly becoming filled with only Astartes. They all look curiously at you, as if wondering what a baseline human is doing in this area. Clearly they're not used to them being here. You continue following Artyom anyways however and try to ignore the questioning gazes, until he pulls you inside a room filled with armoring equipment.

“Here. Hold this while I remove my armor.” He hands you his knife, while his bolter and rifle go on a rack made specifically for them. The knife clearly has more sentimental value, you assume.

“Why did you have me follow you?”

You say, holding the knife tight as machines slowly peel away plate after plate of ceramite. It's such an odd thing to see, watching him go slowly from a near machine in massive armor to something you would consider more human; Even if still very different.

“Those refugees are going into the serfs quarters until we pass by a human settled world. It will be a tight fit.”

The material of his black skinsuit is revealed bit by bit, until no armor remains. Your hands tighten around the handle of the large knife. The suit leaves nothing to the imagination as the name implies, stretching over his entire body other than his upper neck and face, and interface ports.

“So I won’t stay down there? Where will I sleep then?” You feel disrespectful for asking, you should be thankful his legion even bother to saved you. Artyom however seems to find no intentional disrespect, or at least doesn't point any out.

“You can stay in my quarters. Unless you would prefer the serfs.”

Slowly he starts to peel away his black skinsuit, revealing bare skin. The farther down it peels away- neck, collar bone, chest, hips- the farther down it drops the more you force your eyes to remain at strictly shoulder height and higher.

Once everything is removed, he pushes his shoulder blades together and they let out a crack, flexing his shoulders and chest. You swallow a knot in your throat, the knife being strangled in your hands.

“Hmm?”

Artyom hums, grabbing one of the sets of trousers and pulling them on. You shake your head and try to dispel thoughts you are sure would get you into an unspeakable amount of trouble away.

“Oh, nothing. I'm sorry.”

Now dressed you can worry less about your eyes wandering to places they shouldn't, but not completely; the waistline of his trousers exposing a good portion of his hips and lower stomach. You hope he didn't catch the way your eyes lingered on the v of his hips for a bit longer than they should have.

He walks closer, closer enough that you have to take a step back. He gives his neck a crack, and for a moment you wonder if the armor is that intensive on them; In it they never seem to mind, almost as if it's a second skin.

“Are you sure? Your heart is loud.”

He can hear it? You're throat tightens; You wonder what else he can hear. Can he hear your ragged breathing? The way your blood is thumping in your ears and downward between your legs.

“Oh, I just… A lot has happened. It's a lot to think about.” Artyom gives a gentle, sleepy smirk, and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Do not worry. You are safe with me.”

Perhaps from physical dangers; but your mind is now a battleground between common sense and base instinct.

The way his shoulders make your body seem so frail, towering over you. The way his muscles stretch across his neck, his collarbone, the smooth taughtness of his stomach drifting into the v of his hips.

And perhaps he may not smell the nicest in first impression, there’s something underneath it that is oddly, not terrible. You find yourself swallowing a large knot in your throat as he looks down at you, his smirk shifting the taught skin of his facial scars. You skin feel like it's on fire, like you're boiling from the outside in, and you swear you've never felt this aroused in your entire life. The way you feel like your cunt has an actual heartbeat.

"You must still be quite unsettled, if your heart is still racing."

He steps closer, putting a hand on your shoulder; Though it's large enough that it pushes against the crook of your neck. He squeezes it just a bit, and you try to resist letting out an audible hitch in your breath.

"I'm fine, really. I thank you for your concern, though. It means a lot coming from you."

You feel like you're beginning to sweat, and your lower body feels tight and hot. You squeeze your thighs together subtly and instantly you can tell you're getting wet.

Artyom takes a step closer, and you didn't realize how close you were to the wall until your back presses against it and you're near entirely consumed in shadow. The armoring room is quite small, you can only assume because the battlebarge lacks the size of their larger ships.

"You are not a good liar," He says, his smile changing form. "I can smell you."

His hand moves from your shoulder to around your waist, easily able to cover a significant portion with how large it is.

"It took me a bit, to realize what that smell was whenever you were around me."

You don't suppose that's surprising; Being an astartes is surely a secluded fate, without much room for fraternizing. And the smell of someone being so aroused is probably unique and quite subtle, not an easily explainable thing.

He pulls your body forcing you to arch your back towards him, shoulders still against the wall. Your hands press against his body, and you can feel the overwhelming stuffy heat of his skin. He's nearly naked with only his trousers, yet he still feels like he has the body heat of a man who's just run for miles and miles.

His other hand also wraps around your waist, and you feel his fingers pushing up against the bottom of your chest.

It's bit awkward for him to lean down closer to you with his size, but it's easier when he forces his knee between your legs, rising you to your tiptoes. The feeling sends jolts of sensation right up your spine, and your cunt throbs. It's a intentional, painful act to not grind yourself against his thigh like you were desperate, no matter how in reality it was true.

"You're so small," He jokes, shadowing you. "Do you think you could even help me remove and put on my armor with those little hands of yours?"

His lips ghost over yours, the bow of his lip brushing against yours as he teases you. You can't help the way your hips twitch forward slightly, ever so subtly grinding against him as he moves in to kiss you. During so, his hands slide down from your waist to your hips, and forces you to push down on his thigh harder, as well as raising his knee up against the wall just a bit more to force your weight even more on him. His leg is still barely bent however; He could easily take your feet all the way off the ground if he wanted.

His hands grip your hips tightly and force you to grind against his thigh, causing you to moan and whimper. Your hands grip his own body weakly, leaning forward into him and pressing your face into his collarbone. You can feel the heat and hardness of his cock against your leg, and your cunt keeps tensing around a disappointing emptiness at the thought.

You want it so unbelievably bad. You would do just about anything for it. You don't care who hears or who sees, you just want him inside of you and you'll be more than willing to beg and plead and cry for it.

His lips pull away from yours, lips swollen and well kissed. You feel your spit mixed with your own against them.

"Be my personal serf. It'll be a far better life than whatever a refugee's will be, where ever you and your fellow humans end up."

You can't deny what he says is true. But the lust-driven cloud fogging your mind is more than a significant contributor to the 'yes' that you utter to him. It makes his smirk wider, and his eyes darker.

"Would I, still stay in your quarters?" His hands still grip your hips tightly as you speak breathlessly, trying to whimper and grind yourself against him further.

"There's serf's quarters right next my own I can requisition just for you." His lips move from your mouth to your neck, pressing against the pulse point just below your right ear.

"But if you'd rather stay in my own, I won't complain."

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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