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heirloomgem · 1 month ago

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Infatuation Series

Summary: Small snippets and cute scenes on your crush on Sung Jinwoo and how Sung Jinwoo courts and wins over you in high school after using the cup of reincarnation.

His sole purpose in this life is to win your heart, become your faithful husband, and have you be the mother of his children. No one else but you. (Mini chapters)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: OOC, Romance, fluff, high school life (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Chapter 1: Chances

Lately, you have been too flustered for your own good but that’s because you’ve started liking someone.

In a classroom filled with students, the sound of pens scratching on paper echoed as students took notes while listening to their teacher.

Some people were diligent, some were dozing off and some were distracted, and you were among them.

Twirling your pen in one hand and leaning on the other, you did your best to listen to the lesson.

However, the calm spring breeze coming through the window seemed to lull you, and your mind gradually began to drift away.

Slowly, your eyes were closing.

Just as you were about to nod off, you caught yourself and quickly straightened up. Opening the back of your notebook you opted to doodle so you won't fall asleep.

It begins with a flower, followed by a bear, a knight's helmet, dragon wings, a dagger and various other unusual and unrelated items until finally you unconsciously draw a chibi version of him.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

Sung Jinwoo.

A second-year student in your high school, whom you started liking recently.

He was your senior by a year as you were in your first year. He was one of the handsome, popular and competent students in your school that most girls fawn over and for boys to idolize.

Like most girls in your school, you were no different from them, who accidentally glanced at him and were instantly smitten.

Foolishly and stupidly smitten.

You didn't know why, but after catching a glimpse of his soft black hair reminiscent of the night, his slender yet beautiful grey eyes, framed by long eyelashes, and his lips, which had a slight reddish tint.

That day, a deep sense of familiarity surged within you. Those feelings captured you and he entangled you with his very being without hesitation.

Even to this day, just remember that moment and how your eyes met made your body heat up, your cheeks flush and a deep aching echo inside you.

Finishing your doodle, you took a moment to admire your drawing of him.

Even though it's just a silly drawing, you couldn't help but caress his small face. A sweet smile appeared on your lips before shaking your head, catching yourself.

Looking at the front, you let out a sigh of relief when you saw that the teacher and your classmates didn't catch you making a silly face out of nowhere and were focused on the lesson instead.

You didn't want anyone, particularly your teacher, to catch you daydreaming especially when your mind wandered toward your silly little crush or else with just a slip everyone in your school would talk about it no doubt and soon he would hear about it.

Just imagining his uncomfortable expression made you shudder, scared and embarrassed.

There's no way you would be able to endure such humiliation if such a thing were ever to happen.

Slapping yourself awake, you flip your notes back and resume jotting down points.

Soon the bell rang, signalling for a break.

You gratefully took the time to stretch your stiff body, worn from sitting in class for almost half of the day. Hearing your bones crack, you let out a sigh of relief, you turn toward your friend before happily inviting her to go out and buy some snacks.

Walking down the hallways while talking to your friend, you furtively give a few glances at his classroom as you pass it. Hoping to catch a glance of him.

However, it seems that luck wasn't on your side, as you didn't even see a glimpse of his clothes. A sense of sadness envelops you, leaving you disheartened.

Unfortunately, you weren’t in the same class or year as him so there were only a few times when you could see him.

Although you envy the students that were in the same year as him, that didn’t dismay you from time to time to wander the hallways of his classroom to try to catch sight of him.

This was one of the few times you hoped to see him, but it seemed the gods were not in your favour today.

You haven't seen nor heard of him at all throughout the morning and now it's already past noon.

You were hoping to at least even just once, you would see him.

Glumly choosing some snacks, you paid right away and waited for your friend's turn before the both of you walked back to your classroom.

Your head hung low as you considered the rest of the day would be unmotivated and restless due to not seeing him.

You wonder why you weren't born in the same year as him. If you had been, you might have had the chance to be with him that year or, even better, have him as your classmate instead of your senior.

Probably because you were too busy weeping childishly, you didn't pay enough attention to where you were going, causing you to crash into someone.

Expecting the painful impact, you held your breath when suddenly, you felt a strong hand holding your waist and pulling you into a warm embrace, steadying your fall.

With your heart racing from fright and still dazed from the incident, it took you a moment to come to your senses before you looked up, ready to apologize.

But your eyes widened instead, your tongue stuck in your throat, and not a word came out.

You felt your face blush uncontrollably, and your whole body trembled. This time, you knew your heart was racing not from fright, but from the nervousness of your crush's sudden appearance.

Standing face to face with your crush, Sung Jinwoo, you could feel his breath as your faces were close to each other, his head bent down, looking at you.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He asked as he gave you a worried look while you, in turn, could only look at him with your mouth wide open.

Both of your friends, who saw the whole situation stood frozen.

For one, your friend knows who your crush is while the other was bewildered with the whole situation.

Lifting his eyes, Sung Jinwoo’s eyebrow furrowed, concerned in his beautiful grey eyes, then brought a hand to touch your forehead which was now red from the earlier collision with his back.

“Your forehead’s bruised. We should go to the infirmary.” He murmured as he caressed your forehead.

Feeling his gentle touch, you snap out of your bewilderment and start rambling nonsensically, your arms flailing, your voice squeaking, and your face all messed up.

You couldn't help but cry in your heart.

Of all times, your bad luck just has to kick you when you least expected it and now you're making a fool of yourself in front of him.

Worst of all you just showed him yourself gawking at him unreservedly.

Not taking it anymore and embarrassed from head to toe, you immediately took your friend’s hand, apologizing before dashing away from the awkward situation.

You’re sure not only your face but your whole body is red as a tomato. Your back sweating profusely.

You’ve always imagined countless scenarios in your head. If you ever got the chance to talk to him, you would act smoothly and gracefully, ensuring that not a hint of your crush would show.

But now! BUT NOW!

You cried in despair.

God! You wish you could burrow yourself in a hole.

You were just grateful that only the four of you were in the hallway; otherwise, not only would you be mortified by your embarrassment, but you were certain that his fans would be furious with you for getting too close to him. And for sure you would be dead meat by the end of the day.

You were so grateful that wasn't the case.

As you and your friend were still running toward your class, a shameless thought popped into your mind, causing your once-red face to turn even redder.

Even though it was but a moment, you shamelessly recalled how his body felt against you.

His body was hard and built.

If you bet with anyone that he absolutely has abs even though he's only a high schooler, you will surely win.

With your mind clouded by immoral thoughts, you didn't notice the classroom door was closed, resulting in you running into it.

A loud sound echoed down the hallway, causing your friend to yelp in concern at your unhinged state.

You muttered a whole storm of curses under your breath.

You're certain the gods intended for you to die in shame today, leaving no corpse behind.

Meanwhile...

As Jinwoo watched you run off, he chuckled, his ears turning red from your cute reaction. After all this time, he had finally reunited with you.

He is eagerly looking forward to the days when you two can finally be together again.

A/N: Ahh, the taste of high school crushes! It’s so fresh but SO cringe at the same time, I couldn’t help but look back at my past crushes. SO CRINGE AND YET SO BITTER AND SO GOOD! Lol!🤣

Anyway, Sorry for the late post. Life has been too busy though I hope you enjoyed this fanfic!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

#solo leveling #sung jinwoo #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling x you #sung jinwoo x you #crushes #romance #fluff #comedy #school #high school #sung jinwoo x reader #divider by saradika #credit to the artist

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m1ckeyb3rry · 4 months ago

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Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

SHOEI BAROU | AO3

SAE ITOSHI | AO3

TABITO KARASU | AO3

REO MIKAGE | AO3

SEISHIRO NAGI | AO3

EITA OTOYA | AO3

KENYU YUKIMIYA | AO3

OLIVER AIKU | AO3

#aiku x reader #barou x reader #sae x reader #karasu x reader #reo x reader #nagi x reader #otoya x reader #yukimiya x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls #m1ckeyb3rry writes #m1ckeyb3rry masterlists #divider credits: @/saradika-graphics

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taintandviolent · 11 months ago

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Tate Langdon and "don't ignore me" please

warnings: angst, underage reader.

“Don’t ignore me.” Tate whimpered, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. Again. He’d been crying a lot this week. He sensed a change in you, a change of heart. He wasn’t wrong; your heart had changed -- it had been ripped to shreds, corroded and decayed all in a matter of days. Information was deadly.

He looked so desperate, so desolate when he cried, and it killed you inside. But what he’d done…

“Don’t ignore me…” he said again.

But you did. You did. Even though it took every ounce of self control you had, you did. You had promised to have no secrets between the two of you, yet he had plenty. You wondered how he carried them all with such a stoic, couldn’t be bothered attitude. Was he truly not remorseful? At all? Everything he did?

“Hey. Look at me.”

Frustrated, you scooped your hair behind your ears, focusing hard on the paper in front of you. The words were blurring together because honestly the last thing on your mind was homework. Of any kind.

“LOOK AT ME!”

Tate grabbed your chair, spinning it around to face you, and you cast your eyes to the floor, still avoiding him. You heard him grunt before reaching for your chin, yanking it up.

“I said don’t ignore me. You can’t do that.”

When your eyes still didn’t move to his, Tate frowned, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. The pout that usually worked, the pout that usually had you wrapping your arms around him, petting his hair. It wasn't working. He moved into your line of vision, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were welling up with big, fat tears.

“Please…” He sniffed. “Please don’t ignore me.”

“Fine,” you whispered, before clearing your throat to find your voice. You yanked your chin away from his grasp, craning your neck to get away from him. With a sullen gaze, you focused on his dark eyes. “Fine, then… Tate. Tell me about Violet Harmon and her mother.”

The way his face changed terrified you. He went from sad to sadder to a dark, roiling anger that you felt in the pit of your stomach. He set his jaw, wiped the tears with the back of his hand and said nothing.

“Who is ignoring who now?”

#mydrabbles #angst prompts #tate langdon #tate langdon x you #tate langdon x reader #divider credit to saradika #questions answered #anonymous

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forest-hashira · 11 months ago

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'Til Death Do Us Part

hi everyone! this is my (first) entry for @kentopedia's "Love Through the Ages" collab/event! this is a retelling of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but with Gojo/Reader. if you want to know the full vibes for this, i listened to Moon Song and I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers on repeat while writing this.

read on ao3 here | wc: ~3.3k | cw: gn reader, satoru is a musician, major character death (reader), hurt no comfort, unhappy ending

Falling in love with you was easy. In fact, it was probably the easiest thing Satoru had ever done in his life; even easier than picking up the lyre as soon as he was strong enough to hold it; even easier than the singing lessons he’d outgrown the need for when he was still just a young boy; easier than charming every young woman he ever came across, leaving a long string of broken hearts in his wake.

But not you.

With you, he’d taken his time, had actually gotten to know you until it felt like he’d known you all his life; he knew your favorite season, what times you liked to take walks in the fields outside of town, even your favorite place to watch the sunset. He also knew that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Falling in love with you was easy, and even after you’d fallen in love with him, too, asking you to marry him felt terrifying. But you said yes, and all that terror had melted into elation.

There was hardly any time at all between your engagement and your wedding, both of you eager to belong to each other forever, so in love it was almost painful. Though the wedding itself was small – and barely a month after Satoru proposed – it was the most joyful day in both of your lives. Being surrounded by the laughter of your loved ones, everyone dancing and enjoying good food and dancing had made you feel lighter than air, even long after the sun had set; for once, you weren’t even sad that you had missed watching it from your favorite spot.

Falling in love with you was easy. Loving you was easier. Losing you was the most painful thing Satoru had ever experienced.

It was only days after your wedding, after you had promised to be at one another’s side until the end, in the very field where you’d first told him you loved him, where you’d shared your first kiss.

You had cried out from a sharp pain in your ankle, and when both of you looked to see what it was, you watched a large snake disappear into the flowers. In a panic, Satoru had ripped the fabric of his tunic, wrapping it tightly around the wound, silently, desperately praying that the poison would move slow enough for him to get you back to the town, where he could only hope someone would know how to cure snake bites. He couldn’t lose you, not like this, not so soon after he’d made you his.

When he’d gone to carry you – to pick you up and rush back to town with you in his arms – he had seen your skin was already an unnaturally pale, ashen color, a sheen of sweat over your whole body.

“No,” he’d whispered, shaking his head, as if that would magically give him more time to save you. “No, no no no.”

You’d only smiled at him, though your eyes were already starting to go a little unfocused. “It’s too late, my love.” Your hands had tangled in the front of his tunic, the soft blue fabric crumpling so easily between your fingers. “But this isn’t such a bad place to die, is it? I’m with you, and the flowers are blooming, and the sun is shining.” With every word, you’d had to lean more and more of your weight into him, your legs losing strength by the second.

“Let’s just sit together for a moment, my love, and enjoy the breeze. I don’t want to be scared when I go.”

The words had nearly shattered Satoru, but he had nodded, easing both of you down to lay amongst the flowers, cradling you close to himself the whole time. He’d stared down at you without blinking, unwilling to miss a single heartbeat of the time he had left with you; the fact that you had looked up at him, too, was both a blessing and a curse.

“Don’t go,” he’d pleaded, throat tight with the tears he was fighting back. “I don’t want you to go. I love you.”

“I know,” you’d whispered back. “I don’t want to go, either. I love you, Satoru, and I wish we had more time, but we don’t.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No,” you’d agreed, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “It’s not fair. But neither is life. And I’m happy to have spent as much of mine with you as I got to.”

Words had failed him then, and he’d leaned down to press one last kiss to your lips, knowing deep down that this would be his last chance. And he had been right; you’d managed to return his kiss for a moment, before going completely still in his arms.

Satoru had stayed in that field with you and wept for hours after the warmth left your body, only forcing himself to stand and take both of you back to town when it began to grow dark and a chill drifted in on the breeze you had been so eager to feel in your last moments.

And so, he had carried you home, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying, but his face otherwise blank, too numb to feel even grief at that moment. No one that saw him had tried to stop him, the sight of the typically lively musician so hollow, so quiet, had left everyone shaken.

The days after your death all blurred together; the only one that stuck out significantly from the others was the day of your funeral, because it was the only time he’d cleaned himself up and left the house, and even that was because Satoru knew he was expected to be there, the grieving husband to round out the picture of a Perfect Funeral. It had made him sick, and he’d excused himself as quickly as possible.

He spent much of his time crying, or staring at the wall, or ceiling, replaying that last afternoon with you, obsessing over how he could have done things differently, how he could have saved you, even if he knew logically it was pointless; what was done could not be undone, especially not death.

…Could it?

Once Satoru had the thought, he could not bring himself to abandon it, so he began instead to meticulously detail his plan.

The days were already growing colder, which meant that Lady Persephone had returned to her husband’s realm of the Underworld; perhaps he would be able to use that to his advantage.

Satoru had a purpose again, something to get him out of bed and moving; he had a goal to achieve, and no earthly force would stop him. He spent days polishing and tuning his instruments, and days longer composing and perfecting a song to play for the King and Queen of the Underworld; if he was going to convince the keepers of the dead to release one of their charges, everything needed to be perfect.

He was vaguely aware that a couple people – Suguru and Shoko, perhaps? Anything outside of his task was fuzzy at best – came to check on him occasionally, just as they had before he had manically begun to prepare to do the impossible. If they tried to talk him out of it, he can’t remember; even if they had tried, it wouldn’t have worked. His sole focus was on getting you back, and nothing would stand in his way.

By the time Satoru felt he had done everything he could to prepare for his journey, almost two weeks had passed since you’d died in his arms.

Your husband dressed warmly, both because he was unsure what to expect in the Underworld and because having your scarf wrapped around his neck gave him confidence that his plan would work; how could it not, when wearing the scarf wreathed him in your scent, as if you were already back with him again?

The sun was barely up when Satoru left your home, his lyre wrapped carefully in muslin and tucked into his bag. He knew the entrance to the Underworld was close enough to walk, but he didn’t know how long it would take him to get there, and he didn’t want to waste any time at all. Though he had left so early in the morning, there were still a few townspeople that saw him, asked him where he was going, but he ignored them all; conversation would only delay his journey, and he wouldn’t have that.

The musician made good time, all things considered, reaching the entrance to the Underworld about an hour past midday. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath to steel himself, then stepped forwards into the darkness.

He had no torch to light his way, but the path beneath his feet seemed to glow on its own, as if guiding him along; as if the Lord and Lady were expecting and didn’t want to be kept waiting because the foolish mortal lost his way. So, seeing no other option, he followed the soft, almost foggy glow as it led him deeper and deeper into the earth and – hopefully – to the throne room of Hades and Persephone.

Time didn’t quite feel the same below the surface – it felt thicker, somehow, and heavier, catching on his clothes and sticking to his skin like honey – which meant he had no idea how long he’d been walking. The only thing that kept him from panicking was the faintest scent of pomegranates, coming from the same direction the path seemed to lead.

Eventually, Satoru did reach the throne room, though he couldn’t have recalled what it looked like later if his life depended on it. For as much as he looked around, the whole room could have been made of diamonds and liquid gold could have rained from the ceiling; none of that mattered to him, because it had nothing to do with you. His gaze went straight to the couple in their thrones, and he fought to keep his nerves under control; now was not the moment to get stage fright for the first time in his life.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing so low he felt the way his hair shifted to cooperate with gravity, the dusty purple of his undercut no longer hidden beneath the pale strands of his frosty hair, so white it practically glowed in the dusk of the throne room.

“What brings you to my realm, mortal?” Hades asked, his expression impassive, though his eyes simmered with something dangerous.

“I have come to play you a song,” Satoru answered simply, standing from his bow and removing his lyre from his bag, unwrapping the fabric from around it with great care. He adjusted his hold on the instrument until it sat nestled in his arms in the best position for him to play, then lifted his gaze back to the gods. “If it pleases my Lord and her Ladyship, of course.”

This was the one catch in his plan: if he was denied permission to play, he had no chance of returning home with you at his side.

“Oh, please?” Persephone turned to face her husband, a pleading expression on her face. “Let him play, my love. We never have mortal visitors, much less artists, and I want to hear what he’s prepared for us!”

The King of the Dead hesitated for a few moments, staring at his wife, but Satoru caught the way his smoldering eyes softened, the way the hard lines of his mouth eased, and the musician knew he would be allowed to play.

“My wife wishes to hear you play,” the god said, turning back to the man before him. “I hope you don’t disappoint her with your skills.”

With another, smaller bow, Satoru began to play, and soon thereafter began to sing. He sang about you: all the ways you loved him, and all the ways he loved you in return. He sang of his life before he met you: how he had played around, led people along and broken their hearts with his carelessness, simply because he was bored. He sang of your lives after you’d met: how you had brightened his mornings and sweetened his days and warmed his nights; how you had planned a future together you had never gotten to see. The harmonies from his lyre blended with the melodies of his voice, painting the image of you so vividly Satoru swore he could see your shape in front of him again.

It wasn’t until he finished his song that he realized he could see you there in front of him, though your form wavered around the edges, like you were a little less than solid. But you were there, and you were smiling, and he felt like falling to his knees and crawling to you right then and there; the only thing that stopped him was realizing that both Hades and Persephone were openly weeping.

He, Gojo Satoru, had brought gods to tears with his music, and with his love for you.

Emboldened by seeing your face again, Satoru spoke. “Please,” he begged, his voice eggshell-thin, cracking under the stress of his request. “Please don’t make me return home without my love. I cannot bear to make the journey alone again.”

At first he received only silence in response, and though he was not a patient man by nature, he forced himself to wait until he was spoken to, not wanting to risk upsetting the gods before him.

“Once a soul has entered the Underworld, it cannot be allowed to leave again,” Hades responded once he had composed himself, which felt like years after Satoru had made his plea. “I am very sorry.”

The musician felt his heart sink at the denial, and he began to consider begging to be allowed to stay, instead, if he couldn’t bring you back with him.

“Oh, please, my love,” Persephone cried, messily wiping the tears from her eyes as she gazed at her husband. “You let me go home again when my mother begged for my return. Why can’t you grant him this same mercy?”

“Because order must be maintained,” the Lord of the Underworld answered. “Rules must be followed, you know this. Your own return home has its own rules, after all.”

“Then give me rules I must abide by. I swear I will follow them as faithfully as possible.” Though he knew interrupting a conversation between gods could be dangerous, Satoru simply could not stop the words from tumbling from his lips.

“Please.” The goddess’s voice was petal-soft, a warm, hopefully breeze cutting through the chill of the Underworld.

The silence was heavy, crushing the air out of every part of the room, suffocating the musician where he stood. Despite the pain, Satoru only had eyes for you, your warm gaze giving him the strength to push through, to wait for Hades’s answer before completely giving up hope.

“If I let you both return to the surface world,” the god’s voice, though low and rough, rang out clear. “You must follow one rule.”

“Only one?” It seemed too good to be true.

“It is a difficult one.”

“Anything,” Satoru rushed out. “I’ll do anything.”

“You will lead the two of you out of the Underworld, but until you both are on the surface again, out of my domain, you are not to turn around. I promise you will not be alone, that you will return with your love, but you must not turn around before you leave this place. If you turn around, you will have to leave here alone, and you will never be allowed to return until your own death.”

“If I’m not allowed to turn around, are we at least allowed to speak to each other?”

“Yes, you can converse on the journey. Now, take your lover and go. Once you leave the throne room you must keep your back turned at all times until you reach the surface.”

Bowing deeply, Satoru thanked the god profusely for several moments, then straightened and stepped forward, reaching out and taking your hands, helping you from where you sat on the floor of the throne room.

“Let’s go home,” you said, smiling so sweetly at him it made his teeth ache. He nodded eagerly in agreement, taking just a moment longer to take in your features before guiding you to the entrance of the throne room.

“Are you ready?” he asks, turning to you one last time as the two of you stand in the threshold. “I’m not sure how long the journey back is, and if you grow tired we can’t stop.”

“I’m ready when you are,” was your answer, giving his hand a light squeeze to show you meant the words.

Satoru nodded back, once again pausing to admire your face, your smile, everything about you, before turning away, still holding your hand as he stepped out of the throne room and began the trek back to the surface, back home.

He was silent for a bit at first, feeling your hand in his enough to assure him you were there, but eventually both his nerves and his natural chattiness got the better of him. He said almost every thought that came to his mind, though he tried to make sure to ask as many questions as possible, eager to hear your answers, your sweet voice a soothing balm to his raw and frayed nerves.

The journey felt shorter this time around, though whether that was because he was retracing his footsteps, or some other strange property of time in the Underworld, Satoru couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t going to complain about it, either, because not turning to look at you was proving much more difficult than he had thought when he was first given the rule.

When he finally saw the entrance to the surface, sunlight still visible on the horizon, a beaming grin broke out across his face. “We’re nearly there,” he told you. “See? We’ve nearly made it.” Unable to help himself, he picked up his pace, still pulling you along behind him.

He didn’t notice your hand slipping from his own as he closed the last few paces to the entrance.

His joy was palpable as he practically leapt through the gates, back onto the surface, into the grass that waited for him as the sun began to set behind him.

“We did it!” Satoru cheered, spinning around to look at you. “Oh, my love, it feels so good to have you—” The sight of your sad smile had his gaze dropping to your feet.

You hadn’t yet crossed over the threshold.

And he had turned around and looked at you.

“No,” he begged, racing towards you, desperate for at least one last kiss, one last embrace, even if he could not keep you with him. “Please, my love, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could reach out and touch you, though, your shape had already begun to waver, rippling like the surface of a pool disturbed by the wind. You only shook your head, your smile never leaving your lips. “It’s okay,” you assured him. “I love you. I’ll see you again someday. Live well for me, okay?”

“I-I’ll try,” he choked out, tears thick in his voice even before they spilled from his eyes, though there was no stopping them as your form wavered more, then faded fully from sight.

He fell to his knees and wept, loud, heaving sobs, gripping handfuls of grass as he pressed his forehead to the ground, forced to mourn you a second time.

ok so this was baby's first sad ending/hurt no comfort so pls don't come for me if it was bad i'm so sorry idk how to do this i don't like sad endings but this is my favorite myth i couldn't bring myself to change the ending

tagging: @kentopedia @kentohours @mitsuristoleme

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo jjk #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo angst #jjk au #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk reader insert #orpheus and eurydice #orpheus & eurydice #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #dividers credit to saradika & cafe kitsune #fallon's fics

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cherryberry-sugarandspice · 4 months ago

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Master list of this sexy daddy 😋🤤

Fluff:

Something cute 💕 Husband 💕 King of Aftercare

Smut:

Sugar Daddy 🤤 Neighbor 🤤 Pleasure 🤤 Drabble 🤤 Drabble 2 🤤 Drabble 3

#magneto #erik lehnsherr #erik magnus lehnsherr #xmen 97 #x men 97 #x men #xmen #master of magnetism #erik lensherr x reader #magneto x reader #magneto fanfic #magneto smut #credit: saradika-graphics #for the dividers

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voxofthevoid · 30 days ago

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Tis Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #13.

Sukuna is back and traumatizing Yuuji with hole (...many holes this time) as usual, but as per yesterday's poll, this week's offering is also goyuu—specifically, Gojou taking a big dick and almost regretting it. The almost is load-bearing.

Eat up 🍨

Satoru bottoms out with a grunt that shudders in his throat like it’s caught on something bigger and meatier than the wet muscles there. When he swallows, he can almost taste it.

Under him, Yuuji’s all tightly shut eyes and clenching fists, and with the way he’s clenching his jaw and panting through his nose, you’d think he’s hurting. But the cock lodged inside Satoru tells a different story, throbbing its heat with a ferocity that seeps into his muscles, into his bones. Satoru can feel it in his goddamn spine, a gnawing ache that’s left him in cold sweat.

He shifts, telling himself it’s to find a better, kinder angle, and his body proves the futility of it by clenching tight inside and out.

Satoru doesn’t make a fucking sound, but Yuuji groans like a gutted thing.

“That’s my line,” Satoru says dazedly.

Yuuji’s eyes flutter open, satisfyingly glassy. “W-what?”

Satoru considers it. It’s rather hard. His thoughts keep scattering, his mind trying to slip down his spine to writhe in his asshole. It should really stop. There’s no space down there. Satoru’s not sure there’s enough space for what he has crammed up in there. It feels like Yuuji’s shaved off some flesh and maybe some bone to make that thing fit, and maybe it’s a good thing that Yuuji’s only other lover is a demon because Satoru can’t imagine your average teenager surviving this dick. Cute little Megumi would get torn in half.

That’s unfair. Satoru’s the one who pinned this boy down and sat on his cock. But at the end of the day, he’s the one with his ass split open; he’s allowed an uncharitable thought or ten. What Yuuji doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Satoru, meanwhile, is being hurt by something he knows quite well. He knew what he was getting into: He’s seen and held this cock. It’s pulsed against his own length and slid maddeningly over his clenching asshole. He’s had it in his mouth just yesterday, down so deep that his lungs ached with it, and his throat didn’t stop hurting until Satoru healed it when the hot ache of it became more irritating than sweetly filthy.

But it always feels more like this—the heat, the length, the girth.

“—you—Satoru, please—”

Satoru blinks, his vision shifting from a hazy mix of energy lines and solid colors to resolve into the pretty curves of a violently flushed face. Yuuji’s staring up at him almost pleadingly, his eyes gone all big and dark.

“You say something?” Satoru asks.

“Move,” Yuuji chokes out, his fingers fisting the sheets tighter till the knuckles turn white, “please.”

Satoru almost laughs. “You want me cryin’, kid?”

Yuuji’s eyes widen almost comically. “N-no, no, what—”

“Gimme a moment here.” Satoru experimentally shifts his arms without moving an inch elsewhere. It’s a good thing he keeps his nails blunt; he’d have sunk them right into Yuuji’s chest otherwise. “I did just take your monster cock.”

A high-pitched noise rends the air. Yuuji looks like he’d sink right through the mattress and also the floor underneath if Satoru wasn’t keeping him safe and snug inside him.

“I didn’t mean…” Yuuji finally pries a hand off the mattress—and promptly covers his face. “Didn’t mean it like that. Take—take your time?”

“Look at that, you’re a gentleman after all.”

Yuuji whimpers.

A part of Satoru wants to keep teasing him, but every word he says still feels like it’s fighting past the tip of Yuuji’s cock, like it’s stabbed in so deep that it’s cut him open all the way to the throat, and Satoru’s whole spine aches like it’s feeding that dirty illusion. And it’s hot—hotter than the entire rest of Yuuji, even the inside of his mouth, as if this boy runs cold just so his cock can hoard all his heat. Now it’s all pouring into Satoru, scorching him from the inside.

There are worse ways to burn.

Satoru settles his palms over the indents his nails made in Yuuji’s flesh, shifting his weight forward. Sharp pain bolts up his back, and again, Yuuji’s the one who makes a noise, but the tone’s all wrong—delight bordering on delirium. Satoru’s not quite there yet.

But god, sat on a cock like this, he fucking will be.

He breathes out slowly, forcing himself to relax. It mostly works. The tension seeps out of his shoulders, and his thighs feel less like they’re trying to shatter his own bones. His ass is a lost cause, stretched to its limit and then some. All Satoru can feel there is the shape and heat of Yuuji’s cock, but even that’s a nebulous mass of sheer sensation, its edges and ends melting into the clench of his gut and the curve of his spine and the hollow of his throat.

Yuuji’s still covering his face, fingers flexed like they’re poised to tear off whole chunks of flesh.

“Look at me, Yuuji,” Satoru orders softly. “I want you to watch this part.”

Yuuji makes a noise like Satoru’s hurting him, but his hand moves up, gripping his hair instead of his whole face, and with his forehead bared like this, Yuuji looks older and sharper—or maybe that’s the expression on his face, that hot-eyed hunger.

Satoru very slightly shifts his hips. His insides ripple in a molten rush.

“Satoru,” Yuuji gasps like a plea.

And Satoru’s body answers of its own volition, repeating that minute movement, and it’s no less vicious, the way his muscles flinch and flex around that claiming cock, but it’s not all pain, if it ever was. It’s fullness, first and foremost, his flesh sleeved on a burning bit of this boy’s body, but there’s pleasure too, throbbing with the ceaseless pressure against his prostate and even the more piercing sensations further in, where Yuuji’s reached so deep that the touch alone feels violating.

There’s just something about it—a perverse thrill in being touched where he shouldn’t be, like there are blistering fingers prying open his flesh to grope him gut-deep.

It’s also what’s keeping him here, breathless and trembling. He can move through pain, but pleasure’s a different beast.

But Satoru will mount that too.

He slides his hand from Yuuji’s chest to his shoulders, gripping tight. The muscles there tense under his palms, but their solid heat is pleasant to cling to, like the reluctant give of flesh is a sign that this body can take him well.

Satoru promptly tests it out, rocking his hips with real intent.

Excruciating pleasure bolts up his spine, and Satoru does it again before his body can grow shy, gasping sharply as the sensation doubles and triples in intensity, every lash of pain-pleasure chasing after the one before it, colliding into a scorching mass somewhere at the base of his spine, and it spreads and spreads, heating his guts and his lungs and his bones, and the source of the heat throbs inside his ass, no less devastating despite Satoru’s insides trying so hard to accommodate its size.

Below, Yuuji’s stiff all over, muscles pulled taut. He could be a marble statue if not for the warm flush gleaming under a fine sheen of sweat.

“It feels very good, doesn’t it,” Satoru says, not quite a question.

Yuuji just lets out a thin, whistling breath, a word trapped somewhere in it.

“Nothing you don’t know,” Satoru infers, admittedly unconnected to anything Yuuji’s said or done—he just remembers those claw marks, bloody and vicious. “That means I should make this memorable, hm? I do hate coming in second.”

Yuuji shakes his head, just a single frantic motion.

“Oh?” Satoru breathes, bearing down with his whole body, and there’s nothing left for him to take, his ass flush with Yuuji’s groin, but the cock impaling him still digs into whole new swathes of flesh.

Yuuji moans softly, and his lips quiver around words that make no sound. Then—

“Y-you’re not. Already, it’s—you’re always—shit, Satoru—”

Satoru smiles, unclutching one of Yuuji’s shoulders to pat his cute face. “You’re such a sweet boy.”

Yuuji’s hips buck, bouncing Satoru on his cock, and it’s a weak motion, between Yuuji’s legs being flat on the mattress and Satoru’s weight pinning him at the pelvis, but weak from someone like Yuuji is still enough to make Satoru shudder and clench, caught in a motion that’s less about movement than shifting, searing pressure, his rim screaming around the girth spreading it and his sore insides rippling around a cock that manages to find new ways to abuse what it’s already claimed.

His own cock throbs in answer, jutting out in front of him the way it has this whole time, forcing Satoru into honesty even as he writhed and grunted his way down Yuuji’s cock.

“Don’t make me take it back,” Satoru warns breathlessly, putting more weight on Yuuji’s shoulder like that’ll still the rest of him. “Stay.”

“Trying,” Yuuji gasps. “You’re just so—”

Yuuji doesn’t finish that, but Satoru’s willing to forgive him as long as he keeps looking at Satoru with those dark, burning eyes, and he’s only too willing to give Yuuji more and more reasons to keep looking, clutching him close and pinning him down and moving until they’re both plunged into an exquisite hell.

#goyuu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #wip wednesday #jjk snippets #my fic #divider credit: saradika-graphics #fic: mouth of the wolf

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