#he will and has risked his life to protect you AND everyone you care about he gets along with your sister your mom liked him

[smileysuh]

daylighter

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Nothing in your life has ever been as sexy as this moment. Two strong men, one begging and whining while the other dominates. You, caught between them both, the source of their torment and their pleasure. They’re opposites, in temperament as well as being, after all, werewolves and vampires have historically never gotten along- but they agree about you, and right now, that’s all that matters. 

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, threesome, foreplay, fingering, squirting, pussy eating, sadism, breast worship, Eiffel tower, blow job (m receiving), hand job, praise, dirty talk, degradation, power imbalances, dom!Wonwoo, Switch!Gyu, masturbation, sloppy Gyu, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.3k

🍭 aus.  Supernatural au, werewolf!Gyu, Vampire!Wonwoo, 

☀️ mlist + an. And with that, 2024 is complete :) I wanted to end it with a bang, and this pairing has been a staple on my blog for years now. Thank you to everyone who has supported me this year in any capacity, and happy holidays!

Prologue: 

“The ascension is in a year,” the crone sighs, looking out at the room of gathered witches and allies. “I think we all agree that the timing of Seungcheol’s departure is less than ideal, especially now that we’ve narrowed down an ancestral safehouse with adequate warding.”

You frown, and your vampire protector immediately reaches out to hold your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 

As the future head of your coven, you have a protection detail, and Seungcheol has been an anchor in your life since you were eighteen. It had been a daring attempt at protecting you, after all, alphas like Seungcheol can’t just leave their packs to take on a witch princess as their ward, but Seungcheol had given up a lot to ensure your safety. 

Now, he’s returning to his pack, to his own world, and you’re not quite sure where to go from here.

“There is, however, a replacement,” the crone continues. “A beta by the name of Kim Mingyu. He is, supposedly, a prodigy. He’s the size of an alpha, with domestic attributes that make him uniquely qualified for the assignment of protecting our future leader. Seungcheol offered Mingyu up personally when he found out we would be relocating y/n to a compound. The alpha believed, and I agree with him, that, by having Mingyu on location, it would reduce the need for extra staff to deal with cooking and maintenance. By all accounts, this beta, Mingyu, and our loyal vampire protector, Wonwoo, should be able to look after y/n completely independently, which would lower the risk of demonic attack through spies.”

Wonwoo shifts beside you, and you know the stoic man well enough to understand that small movements like this are a sign of irritation.

While Wonwoo and the wolves who’ve been a part of your protection detail in the past have all had blood ties to you, the vampire has made it clear he’s never been fond of working with ‘dogs.’

But as skilled as Wonwoo is, there’s one thing he simply can’t defeat, and that’s the sun. You’re the most protected witch in the world by night, but by day, you need a different line of defence, and that’s always been the job of wolves.

There was a vampire, once, who took care of a member of your family line during the day. An ancestor of yours had done the impossible, she’d created a ‘Daylighter Potion’ that could enable vampires to walk in the sun. That forbidden knowledge had incurred the wrath of demons. Your ancestor, as well as her daywalking companion, had been lost to a bloody history, and with them, the recipe for this transformation process.

There are still hopes of recreating the Daylighter Potion, but until then, this Kim Mingyu is necessary. You can only pray he’s cut from the same cloth as your exiting alpha.   

One: 

The wards are definitely strong, something Mingyu realizes as he approaches the large compound house he’ll be protecting you in from now on. The location is also super secluded, with the nearest town over an hour away.

If you’re looking to protect someone, this is definitely the place to do it, and when Wonwoo opens the door to the large home, Mingyu realizes immediately that the stoic vampire is as formidable as Seungcheol had made him out to be.

Power oozes off the immortal being, and Mingyu, despite his size, suddenly feels quite small.

“Hi,” Mingyu says, forcing a smile and an extended hand, “I’m Mingyu.”

“You’re late,” Wonwoo responds, pushing the door open and turning to walk away, clearly expecting Mingyu to follow.

“Yeah, I uh, got turned around on the roads. My GPS shit itself.”

Wonwoo remains quiet, and Mingyu hurries to keep up with him. 

“I’ll give you a tour, then you’ll go meet y/n,” Wonwoo sighs, and thus, the exploration of the house begins.

Mingyu does his best to be quiet, to take in the information. Wonwoo seems like the type to only say something once, and Mingyu doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him.

Seungcheol had also warned Mingyu about the vampire’s general hatred for werewolves, so Mingyu knows this isn’t a friendship or working relationship that will be earned overnight.

“Can I uh, ask a few questions?” Mingyu enquires as the tour comes close to an end.

“If they’re not stupid.”

Mingyu forces a laugh, but it’s clear from the vampire’s expression that he had been serious, so the chuckle dies down quickly. “Why only two guards?”

“The location is remote enough to be quite secure, as is the warding,” Wonwoo responds smoothly. “Think of this house like the Pentagon, no outside entity has ever breached it.”

“And the demons who are after y/n, it’s because she’s set to be the next crone?”

“In part,” Wonwoo sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “She’s very powerful, and there are certain potions that only she can produce, potions that were lost.”

“What kind of potions?” Witches are known for their tonics, sure, but Mingyu’s never assumed potions to be the most interesting aspect of being a spell caster.

“Old ones,” Wonwoo states, signaling the end of the line of questioning. He begins to walk again, and Mingyu follows, biting his tongue as his mind runs a million miles an hour.

Mingyu can smell the greenhouse solarium before he’s even entered it. The scent of fresh herbs, flowers and general greenery is delightful in comparison to the mustiness of everything else in the old mansion, and Mingyu takes a deep breath as he enters the space.

It’s dark out, but the room is illuminated with fairy lights, their reflections twinkling in all of the windows. It had begun to rain just as Mingyu had pulled up with his truck, and the soft pattering of water on glass is more soothing than the wolf had expected. 

“Y/N,” Wonwoo says, drawing your attention from where you’re seated on a couch, pouring over old books. “This is Mingyu.”

You look up, and Mingyu’s immediately struck by your beauty. The final thing Seungcheol had warned him about was your looks, but his description of you hadn’t done your features justice. There’s a power in your eyes, but a softness in everything else. You’re not some old crone, not by a long shot. 

Mingyu’s alpha had told Mingyu that the vampire guarding you has somewhat of an interest in you, an interest that goes beyond that of protector. Seungcheol had figured that if you, a powerful witch, were going to favour someone, it would be better if it was a wolf than a blood sucker- but even if he hadn’t told Mingyu to get close to you, one look at your lovely smile as you stand to greet him is enough to make Mingyu want to know you better.

“How was the drive?” you ask, pushing your book to the side and stretching.

Your cardigan falls slightly off your shoulder, and God, Mingyu’s eyes take in your newly exposed skin like a man dying of hydration takes in water. He swallows the lump in his throat-

“The dog got lost,” Wonwoo responds before Mingyu gets the chance to.

You laugh. “That happens around here,” you assure him, “you’re definitely not the first.”

“It’s uh, a nice house,” Mingyu offers.

“It belonged to an ancestor,” you say smoothly, “so did these books.”

The werewolf smiles. “Looking for family recipes?” 

“Something like that.” 

Oh, so you’re potentially as secretive as Wonwoo is. What could you possibly be looking for in all these dusty old books that you don’t want to tell him about?

“You must be tired from your drive,” Wonwoo states, turning to Mingyu. “You should go to your room and rest, I’ll take care of y/n now, and when the sun rises, I’ll come get you for your first shift.”

Two: 

You wake up slowly, yawning as you stretch. Your motion knocks a book off your bed and you groan. You’d fallen asleep late in the early morning hours, pouring over books with Wonwoo beside you. Your vampire guard is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a knock on your door and a moment later, Mingyu is poking his head inside.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just dropped a book,” you respond, leaning over your bed to pick up the diary.

“What were you reading?”

“An ancestor’s journal,” you groan, still trying to shake away your morning grogginess. 

“Any hot gossip from the middle ages?” the werewolf jokes with a boyish grin.

“Nothing too interesting,” you grin. “Give me a sec to get dressed, then we’re going to go for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“In the forest, I need some mushrooms that aren’t growing in the solarium.”

With a nod, the werewolf goes back to his post outside your door. You take your time getting ready, even going so far as to brush your teeth. Werewolves have sensitive noses, and the last thing you’d want is for some hot beta to smell your morning breath.

Half an hour later, you and Mingyu are walking through the woods.

You’d written a list of various mushrooms and plants you’d need from your readings last night, and Mingyu is holding your basket as the two of you scour the trees and forest floor for potion ingredients.

You notice that Mingyu is quite twitchy. Every sound, every bird flying overhead, draws his eyes.

“We’re quite safe here, you know,” you laugh, thinking his behaviour is adorable.

“Can’t let anything happen to you,” the werewolf muses.

“You sound like Wonwoo.”

“Has he been protecting you for long?”

“Since I was eighteen,” you nod, bending down to collect some moss. 

“You two must be close.”

“We are.” Your relationship with Wonwoo isn’t something you spend a lot of time dwelling on. He’s your guard, and you’re pretty sure that’s all you are to him, a precious witch he needs to protect due to vampire blood pacts.

You care about him, sure, but Wonwoo’s never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so you’re okay with it being a one sided affection.

“Anyways,” Mingyu sighs, reading your cues and changing the subject, “what potion are you going to make?”

“There are a few I want to try, old things from the texts.”

“Anything interesting?”

“I found a perplexing potion for dog smells, not that I’m saying you smell, but I know Wonwoo always hated Seungcheol’s scent. I figured he might not look so sour whenever you’re around if you smelt better.”

To your surprise, the werewolf laughs. “So you’re making me cologne from moss and mushrooms?”

“Something like that,” you smile.

“Wonwoo was being secretive last night about the potions you make, I figured maybe there was some, I don’t know, super love spell or something crazy that you’d be creating.”

“No super love spells, I don’t believe in those,” you admit. “There are old potions in the texts on the property, things that were lost, for one reason or another. My brewing skills are a little rusty so I figured I’d start with the more mundane recipes before I try anything too extreme.”

“How extreme are we talking?” Mingyu asks. You cast him a sideways glance and he holds up a hand. “I don’t mean to pry, I just… I don’t think I’ve ever met a witch before, I don’t know much about what you guys do with those big pots and stuff.”

“Cauldrons,” you correct him, your body relaxing again. You take a deep breath. “Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

“I can trust you, right?”

“A hundred percent,” he nods, an ernest expression on his face.

You stand up from your moss patch, moving to set some in Mingyu’s basket. “There’s a specific potion I want to make, and I think the recipe might be somewhere in the old books here.” 

“What kind of potion?”

You take another deep breath, trying to decide how to word your response. “Basically, my line has a strong tie to vampires, and we have this tie, because one of my ancestors made a potion. We call it the Daylighter potion, it enables vampires to walk in the sun.”

Mingyu’s jaw drops as he stares at you.

“Yeah, I know, it feels like fairytale, part of me isn’t sure it’s even a real recipe- but the vampires who swear to protect my family think it was real.”

“Does Wonwoo think it’s real?”

“Yes, it’s one of the reasons he’s protecting me. Could you imagine, being a vampire who could walk in the sun? He would be the most powerful vampire in the world.”

Mingyu frowns. “Is it a good idea? To make him more powerful, I mean.”

You contemplate the question for a moment. “Wonwoo has never been anything but good to me. Sure, there are repercussions for knowledge like the Daylighter potion recipe, I mean, my ancestor who created it went missing and was found dead months later-”

“Did she use it? On a vampire?”

You nod. “By all accounts, she used it on her own protector.”

“And did he… you know, did he kill her?”

You shake your head. “No, he was found dead with her. Besides, when vampires make blood ties to witches, they have a curse set on them, they can’t harm us, directly, or indirectly.”

“Sounds like a powerful curse,” Mingyu frowns. “Do uh… the werewolves that work with you have the same curse?”

“Do you need to be muzzled, Mingyu?” you grin. 

He shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“Good.”

You continue your foraging, and Mingyu is quiet for a while before he begins asking questions again.

“So uh… do you just want to use this Daylighter potion in Wonwoo because he’s your protector, or…”

“Why are you so curious about my relationship with Wonwoo?” you counter. 

He shrugs, but it’s way too nonchalant of a motion to be believable. “No reason.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but decide to let it go. Mingyu may be eluding to things, but it’s his first day here, if he wants to speculate about your connection to Wonwoo, he can guess all he wants. He’ll see how things work around here soon enough. 

Three: 

Wonwoo is exiting his blacked out bedroom the moment the sun has set sufficiently for him to stalk around the old mansion.

He has a one track mind, and the vampire follows his senses to the dining room, where you and Mingyu are sitting to eat dinner.

It takes a moment for Wonwoo to survey the surrounding area. The smell of garlic and ginger is quite potent, and it appears that the wolf has made you some sort of ramen. “Wonwoo!” you grin excitedly, “Mingyu’s an amazing cook, I wish you could try this!”

The wolf’s heart skips a beat, and it irks Wonwoo, who simply scoffs and heads to the kitchen to grab his blood bag. He’s irritated when he’s hungry, and Wonwoo can feel himself calming down as he rejoins you in the dining room.

Wonwoo takes his seat next to you, mindful of the books strewn about. He picks one up, beginning to flip through it. “How was your day?” he asks you.

“It was good,” you respond casually. “We went for a walk, gathered some moss and mushrooms, I’ve got a potion brewing right now that I think you’re going to like.”

Wonwoo casts you a sideways glance, had you found the Daylighter recipe? 

“It’s like werewolf cologne,” Mingyu pipes up from the other side of the table. “Gonna make me not smell so bad.”

Wonwoo’s gaze shifts to Mingyu, and he feels irritation bubbling inside of himself again. Logically, it’s clear that the new wolf is trying to be friendly, and he’s taking steps to mask odor- but Wonwoo just can’t find any friendship in his heart for Mingyu.

He gets the sense that you and Mingyu have bonded today, and the way you’re eating up the ramen Mingyu made isn’t doing anything to help settle the uneasy feeling in Wonwoo’s stomach.

Seungcheol’s an alpha, and Wonwoo had respected him. Cheol had come with one goal, and one goal alone, to protect you. As an alpha, he had a whole life to go back to- but this beta, well, Wonwoo’s not too sure about how this ‘protection detail’ might pan out.

It’s clear Mingyu’s attracted to you, Wonwoo had seen it in his eyes the moment he’d met you last night. This little wolf crush is irritating, and Wonwoo hates being irritated.

Wonwoo’s gaze shifts to you. It’s unclear to him how you feel about your new day guard. You seem happy to be eating, so any emotions you have toward the werewolf will be skewed due to the joy you’re getting from the ramen.

No, Wonwoo will have to watch the two of you together closely, but, at the moment, he’s more concerned about getting Mingyu out of here so he can enjoy you himself.

“It’s about time you go to bed, wolf,” Wonwoo says.

“It’s still early,” Mingyu argues.

“Sunrise is at six fourty-five,” the vampire counters. “I’m sure you’ve had a long first day. You should rest.”

This time, Wonwoo makes sure to leave no room in his tone for objection, and with a very doglike look of defeat, Mingyu sighs.

“Okay, yeah, I can go to bed.” 

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu lifts up his bowl of ramen, and in two massive, wolfish slurps, he devours the rest of his food.

“Goodnight, y/n,” Mingyu smiles before heading to the kitchen to put away his dishes.

The werewolf lingers for a few minutes, and Wonwoo relaxes when he finally leaves, lumbering up to his second floor bedroom.

“You could have been nicer to him, you know,” you muse, lifting up a book to scan the potion recipe there.

“I could have been,” Wonwoo agrees, leaving it at that.

The two of you rifle through books as you eat your dinner, and then you head to the living room. Your nightly ritual consists of watching movies together, giving you a bit of a break before you go to read before bed.

Wonwoo knows you’ve been wearing yourself thin with all the books you’ve been flipping through. You’d spent the first three days locked in the house and thoroughly examining the library with Wonwoo before Mingyu had shown up, and Wonwoo would be surprised if you’d slept even eight hours in that three day period.

No, you need rest, even if it’s only when sitting next to him on the couch with a movie going.

You fall asleep in no time, and Wonwoo lets you be. He picks up a potions book, flipping through it while the film continues in the background.

Wonwoo won’t let anything hurt you, and he’ll lighten your load in any way he can, even if it means scanning stupid witch recipes. 

Four: 

Mingyu’s been your guard for around a week now, and things are running smoothly, however, you can tell Wonwoo’s still not happy about the situation. It’s midnight and the two of you are in the solarium, you’re getting bored of going through books, so you sigh, setting yours down.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Annoyed,” Wonwoo responds smoothly, not looking up from his book. “I swear I’ve read over fifty different love potions this week, and they’re all just as useless as the last.”

“That’s because love potions don’t work,” you sigh, moving closer to Wonwoo. “Each potion has a different flaw, so each potion is adjusted to make up for that flaw, only to be ruined in some other way. But hey, you know that’s not what I was asking you.”

“You asked how I was feeling.”

“I mean… how are you feeling about this whole Mingyu thing?” 

“I feel,” Wonwoo sighs, “like we better find this Daylighter potion soon, because that werewolf cologne isn’t working as well as we thought it would.”

“Is it just his smell you don’t like?” you ask.

“I don’t like dogs,” Wonwoo states, still not looking at you.

“I know werewolves and vampires don’t get along, but I mean, he’s a nice guy, don’t you think?”

Wonwoo stays silent, an answer in and of itself.

You  groan. “Even if we do find the Daylighter potion, even if I’m able to brew it, you can’t protect me twenty four seven. I think Mingyu is going to be with us longer than anticipated.”

“I can protect you,” Wonwoo declares, finally raising his eyes to meet your own. “When you brew the potion, and I can walk in the sun, I can protect you always.”

“Even vampires need a little rest every now and again,” you sigh. “Besides, is that really what you want? To protect some young witch until she’s an old lady?”

Wonwoo’s eyes shift downward again. “You’re not just some young witch.”

You continue staring at Wonwoo, trying your best to read him. You wonder if maybe he does care for you, if Mingyu’s seeing something you’re not. Why would Wonwoo be so protective of you if he didn’t have some sort of feeling for you? He clearly doesn’t just want the Daylighter potion so he can leave you and go be a powerful vampire elsewhere.

God, he’s so confusing at times.

You let out a breath. “I told Mingyu about the potion.”

“What?”

“The Daylighter potion, I told Mingyu.”

Wonwoo closes his book, and you can tell from his expression that he’s irritated. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Who’s he going to tell?” you retort. “Seungcheol? Even if he did, what would Cheol even do about it?”

“If the wolves ever found out there was a potion to make vampires walk in the sunlight, they’d come destroy this whole house, and they’d kill you too, just for good measure.”

“Seungcheol just spent years protecting me,” you argue. “He would never do that, and besides, Mingyu won’t tell anyone.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“I just am, call it witch’s intuition.” 

To your surprise, Wonwoo actually cracks a smile. He shakes his head, releasing a sigh. “Fine.”

“Fine,” you echo, picking up your book again to continue reading.

The two of you sit silently as you work, but your mind begins to drift.

In a way, it’s almost as if Wonwoo feels threatened by Mingyu, as if- he’s jealous. There’d never been this aura when Seungcheol was around, but then again, Seungcheol had never been a real threat, even though he was an alpha… maybe, especially because he was an alpha.

You’re attracted to both Wonwoo and Mingyu, but you’ve always pushed that attraction aside with your vampire protector, always convinced yourself he didn’t view you in that light.

Mingyu’s arrival is stirring the cauldron, and you’re not quite sure what to make of it. 

Five: 

It’s been almost a month with no issue. Mingyu’s gotten used to everything, used to the constant reading, the constant witchy little foraging adventures. He’s just gotten used to you, and maybe, in someways, Wonwoo as well. 

The werewolf is currently sitting outside your bedroom as you shower in your ensuite. The two of you had been checking wards when it had started to rain, and you’d been shivering so much when you made it back to the house that Mingyu had insisted you heat yourself up.

He does his best not to listen when you’re in the shower, not to be overtly aware- but even with two doors between you, his senses are too strong not to be honed in on everything, especially with a full moon approaching in three days.

You have a bodywash you make, and although the strong pleasant scent of eucalyptus and rosemary is predominant in the air that wafts under the doors, there’s something beneath it too, a smell that Mingyu knows all too well.

He can’t hold it against you though, he’s pretty sure you’re all a little horny from being cooped up like this- well, maybe not Wonwoo, but Mingyu’s definitely been feeling it. The bathroom is the only place you have any real privacy, and lately, Mingyu’s noted that you’ve begun to use the seclusion to your advantage. 

The running water muffles your sounds, but even the world’s best witchy bodywash can’t cover your scent, and Mingyu sits there, doing his best not to gulp it down like a starving animal.

He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, and he does his best to turn his brain off, to calm down- after all, he can’t have you exiting the shower and seeing him hard in his pants.

God, Mingyu had never even considered that horniness would be a problem in a situation like this. 

At least he gets to go to his room every night and do what needs to be done- but you, you have a guard within 10 feet of you at all times.

He wonders if you do this at night, when Wonwoo’s outside your door. And for the first time, Mingyu wonders if Wonwoo’s as tormented by the sexual nature of seclusion as he is. 

It’s not something he’ll be able to ask the vampire, as much as Wonwoo tolerates Mingyu now, that’s a line he won’t cross. 

Six: 

When Mingyu had first come to the house, he’d just finished a full moon cycle. Wonwoo had spent a couple of hours with him while you were sleeping one night, preparing a game plan for the wolf’s ‘time of the month.’

As your night protector, Wonwoo had told Mingyu to go deep into the woods on the night of the full moon. If he was far enough away, the thought was that Mingyu would just stay in the forest, leaving you to your own devices for the night.

Even if Mingyu did make it to the house in his raged-out wolf form, Wonwoo would protect you, and Mingyu had given him permission to do so.

While Mingyu can transform at any time, full moons are the only transformations that are purely animalistic. All Mingyu is, his very soul, practically disappears. Full moons are when werewolves are at their most dangerous, but Wonwoo is confident in his strategies after spending years helping Seungcheol through his dark side.

Cheol had always spent the day after full moons passed out in the woods somewhere, his body recuperating from a mind/body disconnection of that caliber. Once a month, Wonwoo would do a double shift, and you’d spend the day resting with him in blacked-out rooms. 

The two of you get through many books, and when you’re hungry, Wonwoo lets you head down to the kitchen for no more than ten minutes just to grab leftovers. 

It’s a decent set up, and Wonwoo enjoys getting to be with you for a lengthy period. However, the night after the full moon, when you go to sleep, Wonwoo leaves you to head into the forest. Mingyu, like Seungcheol had been, is not hard to find. His scent is overwhelming, and Wonwoo discovers the large man asleep in a bed of moss.

Wonwoo’s no stranger to nudity, not after dealing with Seungcheol, so he simply bends down, lifting Mingyu onto his shoulders.

‘This is just a professional courtesy,’ the vampire tells himself as he takes Mingyu back to the house, gently lowering him into the tub. 

Mingyu’s covered in dirt, and blood too- if his entire being wasn’t tainted by the scent of dog, Wonwoo might actually be tempted to go in for a bite, but the thought of drinking from Mingyu makes Wonwoo’s nose scrunch as he turns on the water.

Wolves can handle heat, and Mingyu groans a little, shifting in the tub. The bathroom begins to fill with steam and Wonwoo finds a wash cloth. He coats the fabric in body wash, and then, with a sigh, Wonwoo begins to wash Mingyu.

The wolf’s arms are especially dirty, so Wonwoo starts with those, and little by little, Mingyu begins to regain consciousness.

Then, all at once, the werewolf is thrashing awake, pulling his arm away from Wonwoo. “What-”

“Relax, you had a particularly bad change last night,” Wonwoo sighs, putting the wash cloth down.

“Were you just…” Mingyu’s confused gaze dips down to the discarded cloth, “washing me?”  

“You smell terrible,” Wonwoo states bluntly. “Seungcheol had a habit of coming home from full moons and just getting into bed. We don’t have staff here, and I refuse to have ruined sheets, or change the laundry schedule.”

There are definitely factual, logical reasons for Wonwoo taking care of Mingyu, and without those reasons, Wonwoo would never dream of bathing a dog. But… Mingyu has been a good addition to your protection detail. He’s substantially more respectful than Seungcheol had been. He’s clean, and he cooks, and the kitchen is always spotless after he makes you meals. 

While Wonwoo respected Seungcheol, the vampire, as much as he hates to admit it to himself, somewhat enjoys the young prodigy wolf.

Wonwoo doesn’t respect the clumsy, gentle giant, not by any means, but perhaps, the vampire is starting to realize, there’s more to judging someone than just by their ability and enthusiasm for violence.

Seven: 

You’re sitting in a field of flowers, and the colors are wonderous. The sun is out, and the dress you’re wearing has the perfect amount of flow to it as you lounge on your picnic blanket. 

You lean back, releasing a deep sigh, and that’s when a hand drags up your arm.

You turn to see your vampire protector and your heart leaps in your chest. “Wonwoo! The sun!”

“The sun doesn’t matter anymore,” he shakes his head. “You cured me, remember?”

“I did?”

“The potion,” Wonwoo grins, leaning forward, his lips ghosting over your throat. “You cured me of my affliction to the sun.”

Confusion is bubbling inside of you, but as Wonwoo begins to kiss your neck, the confusion dies down. Your fingers thread in his hair. “I did cure you,” you muse, giving in to the feeling of him. 

“We found the recipe in the book, at the house.”

“The house,” you murmur. 

“Which house was it again? I can’t remember.”

He doesn’t remember the house? That’s odd. Wonwoo remembers everything-

A distant voice draws your attention. It’s calling your name, and it sounds so familiar-

“Tell me where you are,” Wonwoo urges.

“We’re in a field?”

“Tell me where you are,” the vampire repeats, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing painfully. When you look into his eyes, they’re completely black, and your heart leaps in your chest. Horns grow out of his head, and a moment later, it’s no longer Wonwoo in front of you, it’s a demon.

“Y/N, wake up!” a booming voice tears you away, and suddenly, you’re not in the field anymore. Your eyes snap open and you sit up abruptly, heart still racing in your chest. 

You feel arms wrap around you, and you realize it’s Wonwoo, the real Wonwoo. 

“I had the strangest dream,” you breathe, still trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“It was an incubus,” Wonwoo tells you. “I could sense that he’d entered your mind.”

“He was trying to find out where we are, to see if I’d made the Daylighter potion yet,” you whisper.

“Did you tell him anything?” Your vampire protector freezes next to you.

“No.” You shake your head. “I didn’t say anything.”

You hear someone release a breath, and you look up to find a frazzled Mingyu standing there. His hair is messy from sleep, and he’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of boxers. “What the fuck is an incubus?”

“Incubi are above your pay grade,” Wonwoo states simply, holding you closer. “Demons don’t generally get involved with lower levels like us, but the Daylighter potion would disrupt their system.”

“Right,” Mingyu nods, but you can tell he doesn’t fully understand. “Anyways, are we good? You’re good?” He approaches you, holding out a hand.

You grab his extended palm, squeezing gently. “I’m okay.”

As your heart stops racing, your body begins to focus on a different feeling.

It had been an incubus in your dream, and incubi feed off of one thing: sexual energy.

You suddenly feel very hot, in bed, between Mingyu and Wonwoo- God, you’d woken up from a nightmare only to find yourself in your best daydream.

Wonwoo stiffens beside you, and Mingyu’s grip on your hand tightens, his pupils visibly blowing in size. 

Can they… sense that you’re horny?

Fuck… can they smell it with their God damned super senses?

You suddenly feel like a bunny caught between two predators, but for some reason, you’re not actually scared. Both men have the capacity for violence, but you know, in your heart of hearts, that they would never, ever hurt you. 

“We should let her sleep,” Wonwoo says, voice low.

He begins to pull away but you cling tighter to him, your grip increasing on Mingyu’s hand too.

“No,” you breathe, swallowing thickly to get rid of the lump in your throat. “I uh… Don’t go.”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo warns, “This could end badly.”

“At this point, I don’t care,” you admit. The vampire looks at you for a few seconds, and you can tell he’s trying to get a read on your emotions. You cup his cheek with your free hand. “This is long overdue.”

Wonwoo stares at you, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull away, but then, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours for the very first time. He’s kissing you softly, showing a gentleness that you hadn’t quite expected.

You release a groan immediately, shifting closer-

Mingyu tugs in your hand. “I’ll just leave.”

You break your kiss with Wonwoo, turning to look at the wolf in the room. “Don’t go,” you whimper. “I want both of you.” 

You catch Mingyu’s gaze shifting to Wonwoo uncertainly, and you feel the vampire tense at your side.

“Both of us?” Wonwoo asks, voice shockingly level considering what you’d just suggested.

“Both,” you repeat, nodding. “I just- I don’t know, you’re both my protectors. I feel like, if I only slept with one of you, it would throw off the dynamic.”

“So you want us both… for the dynamic?” Wonwoo clarifies.

“That sounds horrible,” you groan. “I’m still sleepy- look, I’m attracted to both of you, I care about you both in different ways. Please don’t make me choose.”

You watch Mingyu and Wonwoo exchange a look again, but this time Wonwoo sighs and Mingyu shrugs.

“I won’t step on your toes,” Mingyu promises, addressing the vampire.

Wonwoo releases another exasperated breath. “If anyone knew I was agreeing to share a bed with a dog-”

“He’s a werewolf, don’t be rude,” you chastize, nudging Wonwoo in the ribs.

“Dude, you’ve already seen me naked,” Mingyu points out, and your heart nearly lurches out of your chest.

“What?”

“He carried me in the other night, after the full moon. I woke up in the bath and he was practically grooming me.”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo in shock and he downplays it with a shrug. “I told you, I don’t like dirt on the sheets.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure we’re about to make a mess of this bedding,” Mingyu says, voice lowering as he steps closer. 

“I don’t care,” you breathe. “Enough talk.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Mingyu grins, leaning down and grabbing your jaw. He brings his lips to yours and you immediately groan, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He’s so warm and big, there’s a muskiness to his scent, but it doesn’t remind you of dog. It reminds you of the forest, of sanctuary, and it makes you lean in even more as Mingyu kisses your breath away.

Wonwoo shifts beside you, his hands fanning up and down your arms, then, you feel a second set of lips on your shoulder.

Your sleeping shirt has shifted down a little, allowing Wonwoo to have full access to your skin. Each cold kiss is a contrast to Mingyu’s warmth, and it makes you shiver between your two large protectors.

It seems Wonwoo’s the one with less patience out of the two men, which is something you’re not expecting as he grabs the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it off your body.

You’d not been wearing a bra to bed, and your nipples pebble at the cool air of the room when they’re newly exposed. You groan when two hands grab your breasts, one hot, one cold. It seems both men have a thing for tits, and you can’t say you’re mad about it as they begin to massage you, drawing even more sounds of pleasure from your lips.

It’s Wonwoo who pinches your nipple first and you gasp against Mingyu’s mouth, breaking the kiss to turn and look at Wonwoo over your shoulder. He kisses you deeply, his free hand grabbing the back of your head to draw you close.

You get so lost in Wonwoo that you don’t realize Mingyu has adjusted until wet, hot lips wrap around one of your nipples.

You whimper loudly, pulling away from Wonwoo to look down at Mingyu. His eyes are closed and he groans as he begins to suck diligently on your sensitive bud, his tongue lapping at you in a way you’ve never quite experienced. 

“Shit,” you moan, threading your fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

“I’m getting tired of his smell,” Wonwoo sighs beside you. “I know a way to cover it up.”

Mingyu pulls off your nipple, confusion written on his face.

“You both trust me, right?” the vampire asks, looking between you and the wolf.

“Yes?” you offer, not sure what else to say.

“Y/N, lay on the edge of the bed, Mingyu you’re on the ground below,” Wonwoo instructs.

You exchange a glance with Mingyu, but he shrugs, following through. Wonwoo helps you to the edge of the bed, adjusting so he’s behind you, your smaller body between his legs, ensnared.

“Take her shorts off,” Wonwoo instructs, and Mingyu’s even quicker to follow through with that command than the first.

You release a shuddery breath as your silky shorts are dragged down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to the two men.

Wonwoo’s hand wraps around your body, his fingers seeking out your clit.

You groan as he begins to stroke the sensitive bud, his lips tracing kisses along your throat. “Be good for us,” Wonwoo warns, his digits easily pushing into your wet core.

You whimper, shifting in his embrace. Wonwoo’s free hand braces across your chest, grabbing your breast and pinching at your nipple.

A quiver shakes through your thighs, and when you look down at Mingyu, you find him watching each movement with extreme interest.

Two of Wonwoo’s fingers begin to work open your pussy, and he begins to crook them up toward your gspot, making your legs shake even more.

“Have you ever squirted before?” Wonwoo asks, breath hot along your ear.

It feels so odd to be hearing him speak to you in this context, but at the same time, it feels so right. 

“I’ve never-” you shake your head, swallowing thickly as your words get caught in your throat.

“Good, then we’ll be your first,” Wonwoo smirks against your neck. “You’ll feel pressure, don’t try to fight it, just let your body do what it’s going to do, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod. 

Wonwoo presses one more kiss to your shoulder before his hand begins to move again. He expertly thrusts his fingers up to that special spot, and within seconds you can hear the wetness of your pussy with each movement. 

Mingyu gets closer, and he’s on his knees now. He’s looking between your pussy, your breasts and your face, as if he can’t quite decide what to focus on.

“Gonna squirt on your wolf, make him smell like you, mark him the way wolves usually mark their mates,” Wonwoo tells you, his voice low in your ear.

You whimper at his words, skin beginning to tingle as pleasure unlike anything else builds in the pit of your stomach. 

“Rub your clit for me,” Wonwoo commands next. “I think you’re just about ready for it.”

Your hand is shaking as you bring it between your thighs, gently drawing circles on your sensitive bud as Wonwoo continues to work your pussy, his motions getting even faster, and harder-

You groan desperately, throwing your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder as a powerful release overtakes you. It’s like a pressure on your abdomen, but it’s so delightful at the same time, your body overwhelmed by it all.

You can’t open your eyes, can’t do anything but rub your clit as Wonwoo makes you feel something you’ve never felt.

You’re aware of a wetness between your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to care as Wonwoo continues to work the pleasure out of you.

Finally, he’s tearing his fingers out of you, only to land a gentle smack to your pussy that has you yelping and shaking.

The moment his hand is gone, it’s replaced with a mouth, and your entire body jolts, eyes snapping open to see Mingyu between your thighs. He grabs at you, keeping you steady as his tongue pushes into your tight pussy, lapping at the walls that Wonwoo had just ravaged with his fingers.

The werewolf sucks your clit into his mouth and your body shakes, chest heaving-

Squirting hadn’t felt like an orgasm per se, it had been an entirely unique experience. It was pleasurable, and amazing, but the build up hadn’t been like that of a vibrator or the like- but what Mingyu’s doing to you is familiar. You can feel the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach as he ravages your pussy.

You love how messy he’s being, how sloppy- his tongue is everywhere, in the best possible way.

“Gyu-” you whimper, reaching one hand down to tangle in his hair. You don’t want him to move, don’t want him to go anywhere- your muscles are already tensing in anticipation of the orgasm he’s going to give you, and you’ll be damned if you miss out on it.

“He feels good?” Wonwoo asks in your ear. 

“So good.”

“I’ll give it to the wolf, he knows how to eat.”

There’s something about the deepness of Wonwoo’s voice, the sinful context of what he’s saying- it’s the last straw you need to fall over the edge. Your muscles tense incredibly tight before snapping, pleasure flowing through you like a river.

“Fuck!” you whimper, beginning to thrash- only for both men to hold you down. It’s clear they’re not going to let you run away from the feeling, and they keep you where they want you while Mingyu eats you through your high.

Your entire body is on fire with the pleasure, and you can feel it in every fiber of your being. It’s all consuming, in the best way.

You’re crying by the time Mingyu releases you, pulling away from your pussy. He stares up at you with dark eyes, and when he stands, you notice your squirt dripping down his chest. He’s covered in you, in your scent, and you realize why Wonwoo had wanted foreplay to be like this. Now, all either of them will smell is you, and you think they prefer it this way.

“How are we going to do this?” Mingyu asks, voice gruff, his cock straining against his boxers.

“We’ll take turns,” Wonwoo says factually, beginning to massage your breasts again. “As much as I think we’d all enjoy double penetration, I don’t want to break her. That’s something we’ll have to work up to.”

Mingyu nods. “Turns.”

“I’ll go first,” Wonwoo sighs, kissing your throat. “I’m not as into a mess as you are.”

Mingyu groans, but he doesn’t fight it.

“Because you’re both being good,” the vampire continues, “y/n, you can straddle Mingyu and I’ll fuck you from behind while you both toy with each other.”

“Please be fast,” Mingyu begs, “I don’t know how much I can hold off.”

“You’ll have to,” Wonwoo counters. “Only good dogs get treats.”

An expression blooms across the werewolf features, it’s a mix of lust, annoyance and confusion. You can tell he’s turned on by what Wonwoo just said, but there’s a lack of connection between the feeling, and the logistics that are probably running through Mingyu’s mind.

Unlocking new kinks is always confusing, but that’s not something you dwell on as you becon Mingyu to get onto the bed.

He lays down and you’re quick to grab his boxers, dragging them down in record speed.

Fuck, Mingyu’s huge- it makes you drool. “I want to suck him off,” you whimper.

Mingyu groans deeply. “Fuck.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Wonwoo coos as you get into position, on your knees, looking down at Mingyu’s massive cock. 

You grab the base, pumping it gently and looking up at Mingyu, who shifts desperately against the sheets.

He grabs the blanket, and you can tell he’s already close- you kind of love having this power over him. If the act of eating you out is enough to make him close to exploding- well, you wonder what sucking him off will do.

Two hands smooth across your ass, and then you feel Wonwoo’s cock swiping between your pussy lips. 

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Can you… can you put it in your mouth?”

“You better not cum down her throat without asking permission first,” Wonwoo warns.

“I won’t, fuck, I won’t,” Mingyu whimpers, guiding you gently to his cock.

You lick at the head of it first, getting a better gauge for his size.

Mingyu shakes beneath you, hips twitching. You can sense he’s at war with himself, part of him clearly wants to apply pressure to your head and force you to take him, but another part is trying to be respectful of you. You wonder if this clash between animalistic and human sides is a result of the recent full moon-

Wonwoo’s cock slips into your wet core and you groan deeply, sinking more of your mouth onto Mingyu, who echoes your sound of pleasure.

You begin to suck on the werewolf’s tip as Wonwoo starts to slowly thrust into you, giving you more and more of his cock until he’s flush to your ass.

“That’s it,” Wonwoo groans, grabbing your hips. “Taking us both so good.”

The praise makes your entire body vibrate with energy, and you moan around Mingyu’s cock, sucking him deeper into your mouth until he’s practically hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, fuck-” Mingyu is straining now and you can feel it.

“Almost looks like boytoy is going to pop before he even gets a chance at your pussy,” Wonwoo chuckles.

“No!” Mingyu blurts, “I’ll be good, just, fuck, hurry up!”

Wonwoo might not be the nicest in bed, but you are, and you pull off Mingyu’s cock, stroking it. “Take some breaths,” you tell him, resting your cheek against his thigh.

Mingyu begins to take audible gasps as he focuses on slowing himself down. You stroke him languidly, taking your time as Wonwoo’s pace increases behind you.

“You’re too nice to him,” Wonwoo groans, gripping your hips harder as he rails into you.

“Fuck, one of us has to be,” you whimper, closing your eyes so you can focus on the pleasure that’s beginning to surge through you.

“This isn’t good cop bad cop,” Wonwoo points out.

“True, but I’m also not a sadistic dom like you are,” you fire back with a moan.

You hear Wonwoo chuckle. “I guess that’s true.”

He adjusts slightly, and now, each thrust has him hitting a spot deep inside of you. “Kind of want you to cum again,” Wonwoo admits. “Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t-”

“Three times isn’t that bad,” Wonwoo points out. “Besides, Mingyu’s going to pop the moment he’s inside of you, so it’s not like he’ll make you cum.”

That’s a very good point, you realize, and you slip your hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit.

Your pussy clenches tight around Wonwoo from the stimulus and you both groan. 

“That’s it,” Wonwoo breathes. “Squeezing me so well.”

Mingyu groans above you, Wonwoo’s dirty talk doing as much to turn him on as you.

“Rub harder,” Wonwoo commands, and you do as you’re told, whimpering from how good it feels. “Mingyu, tell her how good she is, the sooner she cums, the sooner you cum.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good!” Mingyu blurts out immediately. “Your mouth, your hand- fuck, I can’t imagine how your pussy is going to feel, oh my god-”

His hand flexes in the bed sheets and Wonwoo chuckles.

“Cum for us, please, I need to feel you,” Mingyu begs desperately. 

Your core is throbbing from his words, throbbing from how well Wonwoo is fucking you.

“She’s close,” the vampire muses. “Her perfect pussy is just sucking me right back in.”

Mingyu lets out a strangled sound, and the noise is enough to throw you over the edge.

Nothing in your life has ever been as sexy as this moment. Two strong men, one begging and whining while the other dominates. You, caught between them both, the source of their torment and their pleasure. They’re opposites, in temperament as well as being, after all, werewolves and vampires have historically never gotten along- but they agree about you, and right now, that’s all that matters. 

Your core clamps down on Wonwoo’s cock, squeezing him desperately as your orgasm overcomes you.

Your hand motion on Mingyu’s cock stops, body too overcome by the feeling of cumming to pay attention to anything else.

Moans and whimpers escape you, your eyes clenched shut as waves of pleasure surge through your body. Wonwoo fucks you through it, and then he releases a small gasp, his thrusts coming to a stop. You can feel his cum filling you up as he gives three more shallow efforts of movement.

You’re both breathing hard, and before you can even fully recuperate, Mingyu’s tugging at you. “My turn,” he says desperately.

Wonwoo laughs, and you can only whimper as one cock pulls out of you. Mingyu is quick to drag you up his body, and then, his own length is entering your core, stretching out your pussy unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

You moan desperately, burying your face against Mingyu’s throat. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as he begins to fuck up into you. “Fuck, so good, shit-”

He’s definitely not going to last long, so you do your best to focus on how good he feels. You can’t even bring yourself to care that his chest is sticky and covered in your squirt, in fact, the sinful aspect kind of turns you on even more.

Your core is still throbbing from your orgasm with Wonwoo, and each time your pussy contracts around the new, large intrusion, Mingyu gasps. His breath is hot against your throat, arms strong around your body as he holds you, fucking up into you like a wild man.

“Shit, shit, shit-”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, nuzzling against his jaw. “You’ve been a good boy, let go.”

Mingyu releases a strangled sound, and then he’s squeezing you tight, filling your pussy completely as he cums deep inside of you.

It feels good in his embrace. You’re not being crushed, instead, it feels like a protective weighted blanket, and he’s so warm too- God, you could fall asleep right like this, right now, his massive cock still buried to the hilt in your wet, throbbing pussy.

Mingyu’s heart is racing in his chest, and you’re both breathing heavily, but slowly he releases you.

“Take her to the shower, I’ll clean this all up,” Wonwoo’s voice draws you out of your daze.

“Can’t we just sleep?” Mingyu groans.

“You werewolves and the most unclean people I’ve ever met,” Wonwoo snaps, and you feel Mingyu sink beneath you, dejected.

“Come on, Gyu, a shower would be nice,” you encourage him, pressing kisses against his throat.

“Okay,” Mingyu sighs.

He stands a moment later, cradling you in his arms as he takes you to the bathroom. The two of you begin to wash each other, careful of all the cum. He’s so soft with you, so gentle, and you’ve never been this relaxed.

When you’re both clean, you go back to your room, collapsing onto your bed. Wonwoo sits on one side of you, Mingyu on the other. The werewolf tugs you to his chest, being your big spoon while your hand is in Wonwoo’s lap.

“Sleep with us,” you urge him.

“I can’t, but you two should get some rest,” Wonwoo sighs.

You’re so exhausted you can’t even find it within yourself to argue, and moments later, you’re falling asleep, basking in the warmth of the man behind you, and the comfort of your vampire protector watching guard. 

Eight: 

Wonwoo’s thoughts are turbulent as you and Mingyu sleep next to him. The sex had been amazing, and shockingly enough, Wonwoo hadn’t quite minded having the werewolf there. It’s clear that Mingyu is good for you, and at the end of the day, your wellbeing trumps Wonwoo’s own possessive tendencies.

He’s not one to dwell on things, so Wonwoo reaches for the ancestral diary on your bedside table. It’s not a recipe or spell book, so you’ve not spent a lot of time going through it, but Wonwoo just need something to distract himself. 

It’s only hours later when Wonwoo comes across a specific passage that makes him stop. It’s the first mention of the Daylighter potion he’s seen anywhere, and he continues to read, eager for the recipe.

‘The potion was supposed to cure sun affliction, and it did, but the concoction did more than that. It cured the vampirism as a whole. My protector, my guardian, now but a man. Powerless as a babe, but as fierce as he’s ever been. No other vampire would want this, so I’ve torn out the page with the ingredients. This potion, perhaps, is best left in history. No one should have the power to cure vampirism, least of all the witches. This could shift the tides in a war that’s been lasting centuries. The witches should not have this power, nor should the wolves or the demons. No one should have this power. The Daylighter potion was a success, but it was also the worst thing I’ve ever created. May the Goddess forgive me for this abuse of power.’

Wonwoo rereads the passage five times before he puts the book aside, trying to steady himself.

This whole time- they’d assumed the potion would cure a vampire’s weakness to sun. No one ever considered that the Daylighter potion might cure vampirism all together.

Wonwoo had wanted the potion so he could protect you day or night, but how could he protect you if he was a mortal?

If he was a mortal… if he was like you and Mingyu, could he grow old with you?

But… what use would growing old with you be if he could never keep you safe?

Wonwoo’s overcome with emotion as he stares down at you and Mingyu.

This was never an outcome he’d expected, and he’s not sure how you’ll react. 

The vampire decides not to tell you about this information. He decides to simply be there for you as long as you want him. He decides to let you sleep, unburdened by the discovery he’s just made. And finally, Wonwoo decides that you are more important than him being a Daylighter. He’ll choose the eternal night with you over the sunshine, and it’s his own choice to make.

Wonwoo doesn’t know who he is if he’s not your protector, so he decides that’s exactly what he’ll continue to be.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love working on fics that center on these two, and It was so fun to write their dynamic :) Thanks again for supporting me this year, and I can't wait to see you guys in 2025!

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🔮 preview. You’ve learned new spells and potions, but your education in a more sexual nature has grown too. Being with two men has its own learning curve, and you’ve been a more than willing student.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, double penetration, anal, oral, pussy eating, spanking, praise, dirty talk, degradation, mentions of porn, threesome, pussy stretching, breast worship, overstim, multiple reader orgasms, etc…  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 120

🌙 starring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been four months of living in a house full of books, but it’s been two months since Wonwoo revealed to you the truth about the Daylighter potion. 

It has been hard to accept at first, and many night had been spent discussing it with Wonwoo. Your vampire protector has stood firm on his opinions, and you’ve had to accept the fact that he wants to continue to be immortal, not only for you, but for himself.

Wonwoo isn’t the oldest vampire ever, but he’s by no means the youngest either. You can’t really imagine him going back to a human form, to lose his strength and speed- no, he’ll continue to be a vampire, and the Daylighter potion has been pushed aside, no longer a priority.

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[hulloitsdani]

hi dani fire emblem :) do you happen to have any thoughts on book 6 "I'm going to kill you too" scene?

Please, Dani fire emblem was my father. Just call me HulloIts.

As for the scene in question, oh man. It’s the “I’m going to kill you too” scene, what more can I add! I got some tweaks and reads on Letizia, but I feel like that scene speaks for itself. You don’t need me to tell you why it’s good— It’s one of the moments where feh’s writing really works.

Instead, I think what I can offer to the conversation is an analysis on Alfonse’s three gambit scenes and how they relate to each other. Because taken as a package, I find it fascinating how these scenes are treated by the narrative over time. Alfonse’s ability to pull these off is such a massive boon, but it’s been steadily growing into a delightful character flaw over the years.

Now, let’s back up. What do I mean by Alfonse’s gambit scenes? This is in reference to three scenes that have occurred throughout heroes: Alfonse calling Hel’s bluff in book 3, threatening Letizia in book 6, and his plot to cover for Ratatoskr in book 8. Also known as “Because it means that it is your life that will end in nine days’ time,” “I’m going to kill you too,” and “My saviors have arrived.” These scenes are defined by Alfonse risking everything on a charisma roll. There might not actually be any dice rolling, but that is certainly what it feels like. If he’s wrong about Hel’s curse, he’s dead. If he can’t convince Letizia of his ruthlessness, then he’s super dead and everyone’s screwed. If he doesn’t perfectly sell Hraesvelgr’s assassination attempt, then him AND Ratatoskr are, you guessed it, dead.

These are gambits— major risks with massive rewards. And what’s unique about Alfonse’s brand of it is that they occur on a social level. He’s not, for example, tactically sacrificing a hero for the chance of inflicting enough damage/debuffs so another can to land the kill. He’s not a tactician at the end of the day and has not been shown to be able to crunch those numbers that fast. Instead, he’s weaponizing everything he has gleaned about his enemies as people and staking his life on it.

Now, he does not do that without motive. For all of these scenes, he’s attempting to protect people while backed up into a corner. Using his encounter with Letizia as an example, she’s rather successfully forcing the Order’s hand into surrendering by sending innocent people to the Shadow Realm— I mean Embla’s domain. She’s working under the assumption that the Order, you know, cares about that type of thing. If Alfonse can successfully menace her into believing the opposite, even if for just a short time, it can give them the wiggle room to better position themselves and lessen the use of human shields as it would not longer be a tactical option. He’s protecting his friends and his people in one swoop at the expense of himself. Pulling that stunt with the lady who specializes in weaponizing information is a recipe for his future disaster, but that’s a loss he’d take in a heartbeat in order to keep everyone safe.

The same can be said about his encounter with Hel. He openly invites her to curse him, because in that nine day timeframe, he can ensure he drags Hel down with him. This is an infinitely better option for him than Hel slowly picking everyone off with her curse. Now, out of the three scenes, this one is notedly the most heroically coded and the most corned our protagonists are. We just spent an entire opening act witnessing the lethality and unavoidability of this curse. Of death herself. Alfonse, having had to spend that time accepting his own mortality, successfully weaponizes that acceptance against a cruel and power hungry death. That’s signifying a growth and change of his character. The success of that gambit permanently puts his own life on the gambling table. Which, in accordance to book 3’s themes of death, is a positive thing. But, as time goes on, this idea gains more nuance.

Which brings us back to Letizia. We are not narratively in Alfonse’s head when he pulls off this gambit. We understand the boy smiling in the face of death, because we have seen everything leading up to that point. We, comparably, do not initially understand the boy smiling as he says “I’m going to kill you too.” He has to explain himself afterwards. It’s very jarring as a result. Against a cruel god blinded by hubris, this gambit feels like overcoming against all odds. Against a mortal woman who successfully outsmarted him? It’s concerning to see that he has the capacity for that malice, even if it was not real. We didn’t have the context of Líf when Alfonse initially had that confrontation with Hel, but we do now. It colors all these more morally complex actions whether we want it to or not.

This brings me to the scene in book 8, which is by far the most interesting in my opinion. For the entire first half of that book, we are seeing the social manipulation game Alfonse excels at. He’s not the most friendly or personable, but he’s smart and good at pattern recognition. He knows the information his enemies have and successfully predicts their actions based on that. And he, unfortunately, correctly recognizes that Ratatoskr is coming under greater risk of being found out and getting potentially murdered on their behalf. If there is a mole, it’s going to be her. So he comes up with a scheme to ensure her safety via the best tool in his arsenal. Ole reliable, gambling his own life.

But, interestingly, this time he’s not simply trying to convince his enemies of his deception. No, the charisma check he has to pass here is deceiving his own allies. Against Letizia, keeping his friends out of the loop made a bit more sense. The narrative he was selling was that HE was the farce within the Order. His sister looking surprised at his “true nature” helped. That is not the case here. He kept his friends out of the loop to partially help sell the illusion that this assassination attempt was not planned, but mostly because they would not have allowed him to do this. They would not have approved of this overly dangerous plan, if the serious convincing required for Anna to let him go meet Veronica by himself is anything to go by. But this was the only way to ensure Ratatoskr’s safety, so he did it anyway. That is a fascinating character choice and I wish it caused more character conflict, but I auppoae that’s what fanfiction and fanart are for.

Nonetheless, it’s fascinating how this behavior went from inciting a downright celebratory feeling to a more “what the hell is wrong with you?” reaction over time. The acceptance of his mortality in book three has straddled and then passed the line of overfamiliarity in book eight. This then pairs itself with his innate desire to protect those he cares about in ways that feel inevitable. If he doesn’t make that choice to put his life on the line, then it’s characters like Kiran experiencing the fallout. Or at least, that is how he perceives it after the events of seasons like book 5 and book 7. If their enemies are constantly trying to separate them, then maybe if he manually triggers it and puts the enemy focus on him instead, things will be better. The people he cares about won’t get hurt. It’s totally fine, he swears. He can take a hit.

[izzyspussy]

spike trying desperately to be buffy's sugar daddy except not requiring the sugar just because her shitty service job bums her out and he can't bear to see it

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another. 

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice. 

You didn’t care to make it a third. 

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life. 

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?” 

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,” 

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,” 

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,” 

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,” 

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,” 

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,” 

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?” 

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom). 

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another. 

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets. 

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back. 

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have any food?” 

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age. 

Oh yeah, he’s rich. 

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?” 

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,” 

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up. 

“Where are we going?” 

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?” 

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,” 

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,” 

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,” 

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents. 

“Did you eat like this before college?” 

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,” 

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head. 

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart. 

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?” 

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,” 

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—” 

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm. 

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“We’re not—” 

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.” 

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’ 

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought. 

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,” 

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,” 

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes. 

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up. 

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,” 

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,” 

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?” 

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?” 

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,” 

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop. 

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics. 

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,” 

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning,  “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again. 

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles. 

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?” 

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,” 

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?” 

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?” 

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,” 

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile. 

“Get back to work.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked. 

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.” 

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking. 

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella. 

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else? 

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different. 

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory. 

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon. 

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?” 

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop. 

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see. 

“With you? It is.” 

“A party?” 

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—” 

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?” 

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,” 

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—” 

“Against my father—” 

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?” 

The answer was yes, of course. 

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them. 

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long night. 

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated. 

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?” 

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,” 

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look 

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,” 

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,” 

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk. 

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand. 

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them. 

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru? 

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said? 

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin. 

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being— 

What the fuck was he thinking? 

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money. 

First world problems, right? 

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being. 

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less. 

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred. 

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands. 

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot. 

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,” 

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully. 

Fuck it. 

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night. 

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,” 

You whip your head around. 

“Oh what the—“ 

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else). 

Fuck. 

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight. 

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure. 

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol. 

Until you finally reached his side. 

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,” 

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,” 

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,” 

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,” 

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch. 

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,” 

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“ 

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid. 

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,” 

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“ 

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet). 

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again. 

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering. 

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,” 

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?” 

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that. 

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,” 

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed. 

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,” 

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist. 

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath. 

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on. 

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans. 

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets. 

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble. 

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit. 

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?” 

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,” 

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?” 

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,” 

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought. 

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.” 

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice). 

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?” 

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“ 

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“ 

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl. 

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,” 

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?” 

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?” 

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“ 

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,” 

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body. 

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird. 

He honestly didn’t know what was worse. 

“What did you even say?” 

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed. 

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“ 

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“ 

“HUH?” 

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips. 

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?” 

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?” 

“Where?” 

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,” 

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?” 

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?” 

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“ 

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,” 

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?” 

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.” 

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”). 

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge. 

But you were on edge for a whole other reason. 

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie. 

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?” 

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working. 

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh. 

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,” 

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?” 

“Because I am,” you scoff. 

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark. 

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?” 

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,” 

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk. 

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,” 

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,” 

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,” 

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name. 

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far. 

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it. 

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so. 

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you? 

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,” 

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing. 

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath. 

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted. 

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout. 

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin. 

“So you were jealous,” 

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,” 

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it? 

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?” 

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“ 

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,” 

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing. 

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?” 

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him,  “No, I don’t,” 

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?” 

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore. 

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,” 

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,” 

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…” 

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,” 

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him. 

“Is this one of them?” 

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,” 

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck. 

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway. 

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom. 

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—” 

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise  “but I don’t want to stop.” 

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch. 

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”  

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,” 

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea. 

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,” 

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,” 

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—” 

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—” 

And you blink, “Really?” 

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—” 

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—” 

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,” 

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?” 

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?” 

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.” 

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips. 

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.  

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum. 

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest. 

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,” 

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection. 

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,” 

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,” 

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“ 

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good. 

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name. 

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder. 

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?” 

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“ 

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,” 

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“ 

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,” 

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,” 

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans. 

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,” 

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes. 

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?” 

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,” 

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh— 

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out. 

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“ 

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him. 

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes. 

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek. 

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips. 

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,” 

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,” 

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—” 

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile. 

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt. 

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you. 

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,” 

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own. 

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed. 

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.” 

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning. 

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—” 

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head. 

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,” 

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway. 

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side. 

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him. 

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son. 

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—” 

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—” 

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,” 

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—” 

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“ 

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“ 

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“ 

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head. 

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,” 

“No! I—“ 

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word. 

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“ 

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“ 

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off. 

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“ 

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“ 

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.” 

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back. 

It was for the best. 

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation. 

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night… 

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath. 

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him. 

Would you ever rid your mind of him? 

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.  

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest. 

“What?” 

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,” 

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?” 

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—” 

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit. 

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore). 

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment. 

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house. 

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked. 

Fuck. 

Those girls. 

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly? 

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night). 

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway. 

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night. 

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking. 

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,” 

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open. 

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter. 

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?” 

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“ 

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps. 

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls. 

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,” 

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,” 

“I’m not wallowing—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,” 

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to. 

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another. 

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction. 

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted. 

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep? 

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms. 

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected. 

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?” 

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,” 

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?” 

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,” 

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,” 

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—” 

“Do you ever shut up?” 

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,” 

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—” 

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl. 

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,” 

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,” 

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,” 

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table. 

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

CRACK. 

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—” 

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?”  You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,” 

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,” 

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” 

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it. 

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,” 

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,” 

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,” 

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears. 

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,” 

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,” 

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention. 

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot. 

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,” 

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“ 

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles. 

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest. 

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left. 

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside. 

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“ 

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?” 

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?” 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“ 

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you. 

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin. 

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?” 

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.” 

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,” 

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?” 

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?” 

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.” 

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,” 

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar. 

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back. 

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,” 

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin. 

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh. 

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?” 

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?” 

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits. 

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again. 

“My one and only.” 

✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

[lostfracturess]

THREE LITTLE WORDS — SATORU GOJO

pairing — satoru gojo x gn!reader

summary — for twenty-four years, satoru gojo has carried three little words on the tip of his tongue, never daring to speak them aloud. growing up as the strongest sorcerer comes with its burdens, and loving someone means putting them at risk. but when you're about to marry someone else, satoru finally realizes that sometimes the biggest risk is never taking one at all.

word count — 7.4 k

genre/tags — childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective gojo, idiots in love

warnings — no explicit content (only kissing), mild violence mentions, references to injuries, angst, alcohol use, mentions of arranged marriages, family pressure, reference to assassination attempts

author's note — hey lovelies, with everything that's going on rn, i wanted to write something cute to maybe make someone smile today. there's a little bit of angst in this (sorry, yk me), but mostly it's (bitter)sweet moments. and i tried to keep it somewhat canon-compliant, but maybe not really. and i've written this with gender-neutral pronouns to ensure everyone can see themselves in this story. if you notice any places where i might have slipped up, please let me know.

masterlist

Three little words.

Just eight letters that had lived on the tip of Satoru Gojo's tongue for what felt like forever, desperately wanting to spill from his lips every time he saw you. 

Three words that had haunted him through the years, through scraped knees and graduation gowns, through first dates and near-death experiences.

I love you.

Simple words that carried the weight of universes, that could change everything — or destroy it all. And so, he'd held them back, let them sit heavy in his chest, like a weight that pressed against his lungs with every breath.

Because loving a Gojo wasn't easy. It never had been.

Love had always been a foreign concept to him. Growing up in the Gojo clan meant learning about power before learning about affection, mastering close combat before understanding emotions. 

Love was abstract, complex, something other people seemed to grasp naturally while he watched from behind barriers of privilege and power.

But with you? With you, it had been as clear as breathing.

It hadn't been the dramatic, earth-shattering revelation movies always promised. Instead, it was quiet, constant, like realizing the sun had always been there, warming his skin. It was in the way you shared your lunch without being asked, how you never flinched when his powers flared, how you rolled your eyes at his dramatics but smiled anyway.

Love had been the easiest thing in the world when it came to you. Understanding it, feeling it, living it — that part was simple.

It was everything else that was complicated.

Because Satoru knew what happened to people the Gojos loved. He'd seen it, lived it, carried the weight of those consequences since before he could walk. Love, in his world, wasn't just about feelings — it was about target signs and weaknesses, about giving your enemies a roadmap straight to your heart.

And your heart? That was something he couldn't bear to put at risk.

So he had learned to swallow those words, to tuck them away behind smirks and jokes and casual touches that never lasted quite long enough. He had become an expert at loving you silently, at pouring all those unspoken feelings into small acts of protection, of care, of presence.

Some days, the words would claw at his throat like living things, desperate to escape. On those days, he'd find himself watching you — the way you moved, the sound of your laugh, the simple fact of your existence in his complicated world — and the urge to confess would be almost unbearable.

But then he'd remember all the attempts on his life, all the enemies who would love nothing more than to hurt him through you, all the danger that came with the name Gojo, and the words would retreat back into his chest where they lived like a constant ache.

Loving you had been the easiest thing Satoru had ever done. Keeping that love silent had been the hardest.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 6 ⁺ 　 . ✦

The first time Satoru realized he wanted to say those words to you, he had been six years old and you were crying because some older kids stole your favorite crayon. You had both been sitting in the reading corner of your kindergarten classroom, and your tears were making his chest hurt in a way he didn't understand.

"Don't cry," he had said, reaching out to pat your head like his mom did when he was sad. "I'll get it back for you."

You had sniffled, looking up at him with those wide, watery eyes that made his little heart skip. "But they're bigger than you."

He had puffed up his chest. "So? I'm stronger."

Before you could stop him, he had marched right up to the group of second graders during recess. They towered over him, but Satoru hadn't cared. He was a Gojo, after all, and Gojos didn't back down.

Ten minutes later, he had been sitting in the principal's office with a bloody nose and a black eye, but clutched triumphantly in his hand was your favorite crayon. The principal had called his parents, of course. There was talk of his "concerning behavior" and "excessive force," but all Satoru could think about was how your whole face had lit up when he handed you back that crayon.

That night, as his mother tucked him into bed, she had asked him why he did it. And he simply said because you were sad.

His mother had given him a look that he wouldn't understand until years later. "The Gojo men have always been weak to those they love," she had told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He had wanted to tell you then, as you colored together the next day, carefully sharing that rescued crayon. The words had bubbled up in his chest like soda fizz, but he had swallowed them down. Because even at six, he knew that being around him meant trouble, and he didn't want to see you cry again.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 12 ⁺ 　 . ✦

Middle school had brought new challenges and new reasons to keep those words locked away. 

Satoru had started to understand what it meant to be a Gojo — the weight of the name, the expectations, the suffocating responsibilities that seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.

You were still there, though, somehow always by his side despite the chaos that surrounded him. When other kids whispered about his family, about the strange things that happened around him, you just rolled your eyes and shared your lunch with him like nothing was wrong.

He had nearly said it one autumn afternoon when you were both sprawled on your bedroom floor, supposedly doing homework but really just talking about nothing and everything. The late sunlight had caught your features just right, and you were laughing at something stupid he had said, and the words had almost slipped out.

But then his phone had rung. It had been his father, summoning him to an urgent clan meeting.

Another reminder of the life that awaited him — endless meetings about maintaining the Gojo name, about upholding traditions centuries old, about sacrificing personal happiness for the sake of the clan's future.

As he had sat in that austere meeting room, surrounded by stern-faced elders discussing bloodlines and duties and arranged marriages, all he could think about was your laugh from earlier that afternoon. How free it had sounded, how untainted by the weight of expectations and tradition.

How could he tell you he loved you when being with him meant dragging you into this world of rigid traditions and suffocating responsibilities? When loving him meant you might have to give up everything you held dear?

So he had swallowed the words once again, buried them deep, even as they burned in his chest like embers that refused to die. Because he would rather suffer in silence than watch the weight of the Gojo name dim the spark in your eyes.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 16 ⁺ 　 . ✦

High school was when Satoru had started deliberately pushing people away. He had built walls of arrogance and casual flirtation, keeping everyone at arm's length while making it look effortless. He dated casually, never seriously, and cultivated a reputation as someone who didn't do relationships.

Everyone had bought it except you.

You saw right through him, just like you always had. You called him out on his bullshit, threw erasers at his head when he was being particularly obnoxious, and somehow still showed up at his house with his favourite sweets when he was sick.

"Your ego's getting too big for this classroom," you'd tell him whenever he started showing off. He'd just grin and make it worse, because your exasperated sighs had become his favorite sound.

During lunch breaks, while others gathered around his desk trying to get his attention, you'd just roll your eyes and steal food from his plate. He'd pretend to be annoyed, but he had started packing extra of your favorites, just to watch you light up when you found them.

High school had also been the time when the clan's pressure had threatened to crush him. Every day brought new expectations, new techniques to master, new reminders that he wasn't just Satoru but the future of the Gojo clan.

He never told you, but your presence had kept him sane. You had been the only one allowed to see him practice with his cursed technique, sitting on the sidelines of the training grounds doing homework while he worked himself to exhaustion.

On the days when the pressure of being the strongest got too heavy, you'd wordlessly share your earbuds with him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder while some silly pop song played between you. And you'd hold his hand, and he'd squeeze back so tight it almost hurt.

In those moments, the words had been right there, sitting on his tongue. But he couldn't. Not when your friendship was the one pure thing in his complicated life.

But the words had nearly escaped one night when you were both sneaking back into town after a concert two cities over. You had been wearing his jacket because you forgot yours, and you were singing off-key to some pop song on the radio, and his heart had felt so full it might burst.

But then he had spotted a car that had been following them for the last twenty minutes, and instead of confessing, he had to lose the tail while pretending everything was fine. You never noticed, too caught up in your impromptu karaoke session, and he had been grateful for that at least.

He had driven you home in silence after that, the words buried so deep he could barely breathe around them. You had fallen asleep against the window, blissfully unaware of how close he'd come to changing everything between you.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 18 ⁺ 　 . ✦

College had brought a new kind of torture. Because then he had to watch you date other people, normal people who didn't have assassination attempts over breakfast or cursed energy that could level cities.

He still kept you close, though. He couldn't help it. You were his gravity, his true north, the one constant in his chaotic life. You were still the person who brought him coffee during all-nighters, who listened to his ridiculous theories at 3 AM, who somehow knew exactly when he needed a hug even though he'd never admit it.

The campus had whispered about it — about how the untouchable Satoru Gojo let you into his space so easily, how you were the only one who could barge into his dorm at any hour without fear of consequence. 

They wondered what made you special, what kind of hold you had over him. If they only knew how many times he had bitten back those three words when you'd fallen asleep on his shoulder during late-night study sessions, or how his heart had nearly burst when you'd chosen to spend the evening with him instead of going to that party your crush had invited you to.

The words had almost broken free during your sophomore year, when you had shown up at his door at midnight, crying because someone broke your heart. He had held you while you sobbed, stroked your hair, and plotted seventeen different ways to destroy the person who hurt you (he had only acted on three of them, and nobody could prove anything).

He remembered how you had curled into his side that night, hiccupping through tears about how you "just wanted someone who understood you."

The irony had burned in his throat — he understood you better than anyone, had mapped every constellation of your moods and meanings, had memorized every shade of your smile.

But understanding wasn't enough when being with him meant inheriting all his complications.

You had fallen asleep in his bed that night, wrapped in his favorite hoodie, and he had spent hours just watching you breathe, his heart aching with how much he wanted to keep you there forever.

When morning came, you had smiled at him over coffee and thanked him for being "the best friend anyone could ask for," and each word had felt like a knife between his ribs.

He had wanted to tell you then, had wanted to show you how you should be loved — wholly, fiercely, eternally. But he knew he couldn't offer you the normal life you deserved, so he had swallowed the words again and just held you tighter.

Instead, he had channeled all those unspoken feelings into being the kind of friend you needed. He walked you home from late parties, threatened anyone who looked at you wrong and pretended it didn't kill him every time you gushed about a new crush. 

What you had never told him was that each crush faded as quickly as it came, because somehow they all fell short of the impossible standard he had unknowingly set.

He became an expert at loving you from arm's length, at being everything you needed while hiding how much he needed you.

The worst part was how naturally it all came to him — how easy it was to be the one you turned to, to be your safe harbor in every storm. Because loving you had always been as natural as breathing, even when it hurt.

Especially when it hurt.

College became an impossible balance of keeping you close enough to stay in your life but far enough away to keep his heart from completely shattering.

He dated casually, built up his reputation as someone who didn't do commitment, all while knowing that the only person he'd ever wanted to commit to was right there, wearing his hoodies and stealing his fries and completely oblivious to how much power you held over him.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 22 ⁺ 　 . ✦

After graduation, you had both somehow ended up in the same city. Different jobs, different lives, but still orbiting each other like you always had.

You dated other people, and so did he (sort of), but you still met for coffee every Wednesday and dinner every Sunday, still texted each other random thoughts at inappropriate hours.

Those Wednesday coffee meetings had become sacred. He'd show up at your workplace, two cups in hand — one with less sugar but lots of milk, the way you liked it, and his own ridiculously sweet like his smile, as you always teased. 

He had memorized your schedule, knew which days you worked late, which mornings you had important meetings. On the nights when your job kept you at the office past midnight, he'd lurk nearby, pretending he just happened to be in the area when you finally emerged exhausted. 

You'd roll your eyes but accept his offer to walk you home, and he'd fight the urge to take your hand every step of the way.

Sunday dinners were even worse for his heart. Sometimes you'd cook (badly), sometimes he'd order in (expensively), but it always felt so domestic it hurt.

The way you'd steal bites from his plate, like you always used to do, how you'd curl up on his couch afterward like you belonged there, the casual way you'd rest your feet in his lap while watching movies — it was everything he wanted and nothing he could keep.

The words had nearly escaped during one of those Sunday dinners, when you were both a little drunk on wine and nostalgia, laughing about all the trouble you had gotten into growing up. You had looked at him with such fondness, such understanding, and he had almost broken.

"Remember when you punched that guy at the bar who wouldn't leave me alone?" you had asked, cheeks flushed from wine and laughter.

"Which time?" he had replied, only half-joking. There had been several instances, each one burning in his memory because how dare anyone make you uncomfortable.

"All of them," you had laughed, reaching over to poke his cheek. "My hero."

The word had squeezed his heart like a fist. Hero. If only you knew how selfish his protection had always been, how each act of defending you had been as much about his own possessive need to keep you safe as it was about your wellbeing.

You had shifted closer on the couch then, laying your head on his shoulder in that casual way that always made his breath catch and his fingers had itched to run through your hair, to tilt your face up to his, to finally close the distance he'd been maintaining for so many years. 

The words had risen in his throat like a tide. But then his phone had buzzed with an alert about another threat, another mission, another reason why loving him was dangerous, and he had bitten his tongue until he tasted blood.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 25 ⁺ 　 . ✦

It had gotten harder as the years passed. Harder to watch you live your life, harder to keep pretending he didn't want to be more than your best friend, harder to keep those three words locked away.

He had started taking more dangerous missions, throwing himself into his work with reckless abandon. Because if he was busy fighting curses and saving the world, he couldn't think about how much he wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to finally let those words free.

At least, that's what he had told himself as he accepted increasingly risky assignments, each one a little more dangerous than the last.

The other sorcerers had started calling him reckless. But how could he explain that facing down cursed spirits was easier than facing the way you looked at him with such concern? That physical pain was a welcome distraction from the constant ache in his chest?

But you were still there, still calling him out when he was being stupid, still patching him up when he came back injured, still looking at him like he was someone beyond his name and his power.

He always saved one small injury for you to tend to — a scrape here, a bruise there — even though his reversed cursed technique had already healed the worst of his wounds. It had become your ritual, you'd patch him up at your apartment, your coffee table covered in supplies that he didn't really need, both of you pretending this wasn't an elaborate excuse to be close to each other.

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days," you had muttered one particularly bad night, hands trembling slightly as you cleaned a gash on his forehead that would have healed on its own in seconds. But he had let you fuss over it anyway, selfishly savoring every gentle touch.

The words had almost broken free one night when you were stitching up a particularly nasty wound on his side. Your hands had been gentle but your lecture was harsh, telling him off for being so careless with his life.

He could have healed it himself — you both knew that — but he had wanted your hands on him, even if they came with a scolding.

"You're not immortal, you idiot," you had said, and there were tears in your eyes that made his heart clench. "I know you think you're invincible, but you're not. What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?"

The raw emotion in your voice had nearly undone him. He had wanted to tell you then that he only acted so reckless because loving you from afar was slowly killing him anyway. That every mission, every fight, was just another way to exhaust himself enough that he wouldn't do something stupid like confess his feelings and ruin everything between you.

Instead, he had just made a joke about being too pretty to die, and pretended not to notice when you wiped your eyes. But he had caught your hand as you turned away, held it perhaps a moment too long, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in what he hoped felt like reassurance.

Your apartment had become his retreat those days. He would show up at odd hours, sometimes bleeding, sometimes just exhausted, and you would let him in without question. You never asked why he came to you instead of using his technique to heal himself. Maybe you had known, just like he had, that these moments weren't really about the injuries at all.

There had been nights when he'd fall asleep on your couch, lulled by the sound of you moving around your apartment, by the domestic comfort of knowing you were near. He'd wake up to find himself covered with a blanket, a glass of water on the coffee table, and his heart would ache with how much he wanted this to be his everyday reality.

Sometimes, in his weaker moments, he'd catch himself watching you as you worked on your laptop, curled up in the armchair across from him. The soft glow of the screen would wash over your features, and he'd think about how easy it would be to cross that small distance, to finally tell you everything he'd been holding back.

But then he'd remember the last mission, the close calls, the enemies who were getting stronger and bolder, and he'd force himself to look away. Because loving him had always come with a price, and he wasn't willing to make you pay it.

So he had buried those feelings deeper, thrown himself into more missions, and pretended that the ache in his chest was from the fights and not from loving you so much it physically hurt.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 28 ⁺ 　 . ✦

The breaking point had come, as these things often did, on an ordinary day.

You had both been in your apartment, having one of your regular movie nights. You were wearing old sweatpants and one of his hoodies that you had stolen years ago, there were takeout containers scattered across your coffee table, and you were arguing about whether the movie's plot made any sense.

It had been so normal, so comfortable, so perfectly you and him that something in his chest finally cracked.

Because he had realized, watching you gesture wildly about the movie's plot holes, that he had been an idiot. He had spent over two decades trying to protect you by keeping his distance, but you had been in danger this whole time anyway. Because everyone who knew him knew that you were his weakness, his soft spot, the one person who could bring the great Satoru Gojo to his knees.

And you had stayed anyway. Through every fight, every danger, every close call, you had chosen to stay in his life. You had patched his wounds, celebrated his victories, mourned his losses, and never once asked for anything in return except his friendship.

That night, he had decided tomorrow would be the day. No more waiting, no more excuses. He would finally tell you everything.

He had barely slept, spending hours picking out the perfect flowers, hoping they would help say everything his heart had been trying to tell you for years. He had practiced the words in his mirror, ran through a dozen different speeches, each one feeling more inadequate than the last.

But when he had arrived at your apartment building that morning, flowers clutched in sweaty palms and heart thundering in his chest, he had seen them through your living room window. You weren't alone. Someone else was there, someone who had made you throw your head back in laughter, who had pulled you close with an ease that made his chest constrict.

He had watched, frozen on the sidewalk, as you reached up to brush something from their cheek, the gesture so tender it had felt like a physical blow. The flowers in his hands had suddenly felt like they were made of lead.

Satoru had stood there for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, watching you be happy with someone else, watching you shine so brightly for another person. Then, with movements that felt mechanical, he had dropped the flowers in a nearby trash can and walked away.

Three words, still unspoken, had burned in his throat with every step.

For weeks after that, he had thrown himself into missions like a madman, taking on the most dangerous assignments he could find. Anything to avoid thinking about how he had waited too long, how he had lost his chance.

But then you had called him one night, voice slightly slurred from wine, asking him to come over. And like always, he couldn't refuse you.

That's how he had found himself back in your apartment, watching you pace back and forth, ranting about how empty it all felt. How you had tried to move on, tried to find what everyone said you should want — a normal relationship, a simple life, someone safe.

"But it's not right," you had said, running your hands through your hair in frustration. "Nothing feels right. They're nice, they're perfect on paper, but—"

"But what?" he had asked, his heart in his throat.

"But they're not you," you had whispered, the words hanging in the air between you like suspended stars.

A movie had still been playing in the background, forgotten as you both stood there, years of unspoken feelings spilled on the floor. The weight of your confession had made it hard to breathe, and for a moment, just a moment, he had let himself imagine what it would be like to close the distance between you, to finally say the words that had lived in his heart for so long.

But then his phone had buzzed in his pocket — another threat, another reminder — and reality came crashing back.

"You can't," he had said, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" You had taken a step toward him, and he had forced himself to take one back, watching hurt flash across your face. "Satoru, I've waited—"

"Then stop waiting," he had cut you off, hating himself for the way his words made you flinch. "This isn't—we can't—" A pause. "Do you know how many attempts there have been on my life this month alone? How many enemies would love to know that the great Satoru Gojo has someone he—" He had caught himself before the word 'loves' could escape. "Someone he cares about?"

"I'm not afraid—"

"Well, I am!" The words had burst from him with more force than he'd intended, making you both freeze. "I am terrified, okay? Because everyone I've ever—everyone who gets close to me ends up with a target on their back. And you—" His voice had softened despite himself. "You deserve better than that. Better than looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, better than wondering if each goodbye might be the last."

"That's not your choice to make," you had said quietly, and the resignation in your voice had been worse than anger would have been.

"Yes, it is. Because I'm the one who would have to live with it if something happened to you because of me." He had straightened his shoulders, pulled on the mask he wore for everyone else — cold, untouchable, removed. "Go back to them. Find someone normal. Someone safe. Someone who can give you the life you deserve."

"And what about what I want?"

"Sometimes what we want isn't what's best for us." The words had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You had looked at him for a long moment, tears gathering in your eyes, and he had dug his nails into his palms to keep from reaching for you. Finally, you had nodded once, sharp and hurt.

"Get out."

He had turned to leave, each step feeling like he was walking through concrete. At the door, he had paused, his hand on the handle.

"I'm sorry," he had whispered, not turning around. Because if he had looked at you then, his resolve would have crumbled entirely.

The soft click of the door closing behind him had sounded like the end of everything.

✦ . 　⁺ Age 30 ⁺ 　 . ✦

Two years of carefully maintained distance had felt like an eternity. The clan's pressure had mounted with each passing month — meetings about bloodlines, about duty, about carrying on the Gojo name. His parents had finally put their foot down, presenting him with a list of "suitable" candidates from other prestigious families.

Satoru had turned it into something of an art form, really — how to be just obnoxious enough, just impossible enough, that each carefully selected partner would run screaming for the hills without him technically refusing anyone.

"This is getting ridiculous," his mother had sighed after the seventh failed meeting. "Are you going to chase away every eligible human on this earth?"

Yes, he had wanted to say. Because none of them were you.

You still texted occasionally — surface-level messages about holidays or birthdays, the kind of distant politeness that felt wrong after decades of intimacy. He had saved every message anyway, re-reading them late at night when missions left him too restless to sleep.

Your contact photo was still the same one from college, you resting your head on his shoulder, laughing at something he’d said. He couldn’t bring himself to change it.

Sometimes he'd catch glimpses of you around the city. You'd cut your hair, changed jobs, moved to a new apartment. He knew all this from the careful distance he maintained, from the reports he definitely didn't ask Ijichi to give him.

You seemed... fine. Happy, even. It was what he'd wanted, he told himself. You, safe and happy, even if it was without him.

The invitation had arrived on a Tuesday.

The envelope had been cream-colored, expensive. His name written in elegant calligraphy that had made his stomach drop before he'd even opened it. Inside, the words had blurred together, except for the ones that mattered.

You were getting married.

To someone safe. Someone normal. Someone who could give you everything he couldn't.

The invitation had sat on his coffee table for days, taunting him. He'd catch himself staring at it during his morning coffee, during late-night mission reports, during every quiet moment when his mind wasn't occupied with staying alive.

Your handwritten note had been worse than the formal invitation.

'I'd really like you to be there. Please come.'

His phone had been in his hand before he'd realized it, your number still muscle memory after all this time. The cursor had blinked at him mockingly as he'd tried to formulate a response.

'Congratulations,' he had finally typed, each letter feeling like a small death. 'I'll be there.'

Because of course he would be. He'd sit there and watch you marry someone else, would paste on a smile and give a toast if asked, would pretend his heart wasn't being ripped from his chest with every word of the ceremony.

It was what he deserved, really. He had pushed you away, had made the choice for both of you, had convinced himself it was for the best. This was the consequence of his protection, the price of keeping you safe.

He had gotten drunk that night, alone in his apartment, surrounded by the ghosts of all the words he'd never said. The three most important ones still burned in his throat, unspoken after all these years.

His phone had buzzed with your reply. 'Thank you. It means a lot.'

Four words that had somehow hurt worse than the invitation itself.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day of your wedding had dawned grey and miserable, as if the weather itself was matching Satoru's mood. He'd been away on a mission until the last possible moment, taking out his frustration on cursed spirits with perhaps more violence than strictly necessary.

He had arrived at the venue late, soaked from the rain, his suit probably ruined. But he'd promised to be there, and he'd never broken a promise to you before. He wasn't about to start now, even if it killed him.

But when he had made his way inside, he'd immediately sensed the chaos inside. Hushed, worried voices had carried through the open doors. "Has anyone seen them?" "The ceremony should have started twenty minutes ago." "Check the dressing room again!"

But Satoru had known exactly where to find you.

The venue's grounds had stretched back to a small lake, and there, beneath an old maple tree whose leaves provided little shelter from the rain, you had stood. Your wedding outfit was getting steadily soaked, but you hadn't seemed to notice or care, staring out at the rippling water.

He had approached slowly, drinking in the sight of you. Even with dirt stained cloths and dripping hair, you had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Everyone's looking for you," he had said softly.

You hadn't turned around. "I know."

"Three hundred people in there wondering where you've gone."

"Three hundred and one, now that you're here." Your voice had been quiet, almost lost in the rain. "Why are you here, Satoru?"

"You invited me."

"That's not what I meant." Finally, you had turned to face him, and the look in your eyes had made his heart stutter. "Why are you really here?"

He had taken a step closer, drawn to you like gravity, like always. "You know why."

"Do I?" Your voice was so small. "Because I thought I knew, once. I thought I knew a lot of things. But then you pushed me away, told me to find someone safe, someone normal." You had gestured toward the building behind you. "Well, I did. So why are you here?"

"I—"

He had caught sight of a small cut on his cheekbone in a puddle's reflection — the one injury he hadn't healed, the one he'd kept out of habit, out of the memory of your gentle hands patching him up all those years.

Your eyes had followed his, landing on the cut. Without seeming to think about it, you had reached up, fingers ghosting over the wound like they had a thousand times before. The familiar gesture had nearly broken him.

"Don't marry them," he had whispered.

"What?"

"Don't marry them," he had whispered again. "Please."

"Why not?" The question had been barely a whisper. "Give me a reason, Satoru. One real reason why I shouldn't walk back in there and marry someone who actually wants me."

"Because—" The words had stuck in his throat, years of habit holding them back.

"I love you," he had whispered, the words falling into the rain-soaked space between you, and suddenly he could breathe again. Twenty-four years of holding back, of swallowing those words, of carrying them like stones in his chest — and now they were free, floating in the air between you like butterflies finally released from their cage.

"I love you," he had said again, stronger this time. "I've loved you since we were kids. I've loved you through every fight, every mission, every time I tried to push you away for your own good. I've loved you so long I don't remember what it feels like not to love you."

"You—" Your voice had broken. "You idiot. You're telling me this now? When there are three hundred people waiting inside? When I've spent months trying to convince myself I could love someone else?"

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry, but—"

"Shut up," you had breathed, and then you had pulled him down by his lapels and kissed him.

He had kissed you back like a drowning man finding air, like coming home after a lifetime of wandering. Your lips had been cold from the rain but soft against his, and when you had melted against him, he'd felt something in his chest finally slot into place.

Years of careful control had shattered like glass, and he had wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground in a surge of desperate joy. You had gasped against his mouth, and he had taken the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pouring decades of longing into it.

He had spun you around, your hands threading through his wet hair as he held you against him like he was afraid you might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. Rain had continued to fall around you, but neither of you had noticed or cared.

His hands had splayed across your back, holding you impossibly closer as he kissed you like a man starved, like he was trying to make up for every kiss he should have given you over the years.

When you had broken apart, you were both breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together as the rain continued to fall around you. Your fingers had still been twisted in his jacket, and his hand had still been cradling your face like you were something precious, something he couldn't quite believe he was allowed to touch.

The weight of all those unspoken words, all those careful distances he'd maintained, all those moments he'd held himself back — it had all lifted away like mist in the morning sun. For the first time in twenty-four years, he had felt truly, completely free.

"You're so stupid," you had whispered, but you hadn't moved away. "There are three hundred people in there, expectations, plans, a whole life I'm supposed to—"

"Run away with me."

"What?"

"Run away with me," he had repeated, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. "Right now. Let me take you anywhere you want to go. Let me spend the rest of my life making up for lost time, for every moment I was too scared to love you the way you deserved."

"Satoru—"

"I know it's selfish," he had continued, words tumbling out like he couldn't hold them back anymore. "I know I have no right to ask this of you, not after pushing you away. But I can't— I can't watch you marry someone else. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering what if, knowing I let you go without fighting for you."

You had laughed, the sound wavering between tears and joy. "You really are the most impossible man I've ever met."

"Is that a yes?"

"My parents will never forgive me."

"I'll win them over."

"The clan will be furious."

"Let them be."

"Everyone will talk."

"Let them talk." He had cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the rain and tears on your cheeks. "I don't care about any of that. I just care about you. About us. Everything else… we'll figure it out together."

"Together," you had repeated softly, like you were testing the word. "You won't push me away again? Try to protect me by leaving?"

"Never again," he had promised. "I'm done running. Done pretending I don't love you more than anything in this world. Done letting fear keep me from the only thing that's ever really mattered."

You had searched his face for a long moment, and he had let you see everything — all the love, the fear, the desperate hope he'd kept hidden for so long.

Finally, you had smiled, bright and real, the smile he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Take me away from here," you had said, and his heart had soared. "Show me what it's like when Satoru Gojo finally stops holding back."

He hadn't needed to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he had swept you into his arms, your surprised laugh warming something deep in his chest.

"What about everything inside? My things, the guests—"

"I'll send Ijichi to handle it," he had said, already walking away from the venue, from the life you'd almost had without him. "Right now, all that matters is you and me."

"And where exactly are you taking me?"

"Anywhere you want," he had promised, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Everywhere. We have a lifetime of moments to make up for, after all."

You had wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking your face against his shoulder. "I love you too, you know. In case that wasn't clear."

He had tightened his hold on you, something fierce and protective and overwhelmingly tender swelling in his chest. "Say it again."

"I love you, Satoru Gojo," you had whispered against his neck. "I always have."

As he had carried you away from the venue, the rain had finally begun to let up, sunlight breaking through the clouds. A new beginning, he had thought.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Looking back, Satoru couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. All those years wasted, all that time spent pushing you away when he could have been holding you close. He'd thought he was protecting you, but in reality, he'd just been protecting himself from the terrifying vulnerability of being truly, completely loved.

Because that's what you did — you loved him entirely, unconditionally, with a fierce devotion that still took his breath away. You loved him through the dangerous missions and the late-night emergencies, through the clan meetings and the political drama. You loved him through the nightmares and the victories, through every high and low that came with being Satoru Gojo.

Life wasn't perfect, of course. There were still threats, still enemies who thought they could use you to get to him. But they had learned, quickly and painfully, that you weren't some helpless weakness to exploit. You were his strength, his anchor, his reason for coming home safely every time.

Those old fears seemed ridiculous now. Because yes, loving him came with dangers — but you had always known that, had always chosen him anyway. And together, you were so much stronger than apart.

The clan had been furious about the wedding scandal, of course. But it was hard to maintain their anger when you handled every social situation with grace, when you proved yourself more than capable of standing beside the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Eventually, even the most traditional elders had to admit that perhaps the Gojo heir had chosen well after all.

Your old routine had shifted, evolved into something even better. Now when you patched up his wounds (the ones he still deliberately saved for you), he could kiss you afterward. When you fell asleep during movie nights, he could pull you close instead of maintaining that careful distance. When you brought him coffee during all-nighters, he could show his gratitude with more than just words.

The best part, though? The absolute best part was being able to say those three words whenever he wanted. And he said them constantly — whispered them against your skin in the morning, called them across rooms just to see you smile, breathed them into quiet moments like prayers.

"I love you" when you handed him his coffee, exactly how he liked it.

"I love you" when you rolled your eyes at his dramatic entrances.

"I love you" when you fell asleep on his shoulder during clan meetings.

"I love you" when you patched up injuries that didn't need patching.

"I love you" for no reason at all, just because he could, just because the words had lived in his heart for so long that letting them free still felt like a miracle.

And every time — every single time — you said it back, like you'd been waiting just as long to be able to say it freely.

Sometimes, on quiet nights when you were both home safe, he'd watch you doing something mundane — reading a book, making tea, existing in his space like you'd always belonged there — and the gratitude would hit him so hard he could barely breathe. Gratitude that you had waited, that you had loved him through his fears and his mistakes, that you had given him the chance to love you properly.

Because that's what he did now — loved you properly, openly, with everything he had. No more holding back, no more careful distance. He loved you the way you deserved to be loved — wholly, fiercely, eternally.

And every day, for the rest of his life, he made sure you knew it. Three words, eight letters, repeated like a promise, like a prayer, like the most important truth he'd ever known.

I love you.

And every day, for the rest of your life, you said it back.

author's note — after editing this, i realised it's more angsty then intended but oh my i'm sorry, i can't help it. but i hope it made you smile anyway. thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read this story. your support means the world to me. in these challenging times, please remember that even the darkest nights eventually give way to dawn. sending lots of love your way <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @saurondriell @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ Rom-Com Gone Wrong

˚ · . bakugou katsuki x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ takes place during their third year, mentions of injuries and blood, forced intake of aphrodisiac, unestablished relationship, mutual pining, love confession, both characters are 18, protected sex, implied unprotected sex, virgnity loss, misunderstandings, a bit angsty, bakugou is lowky ooc and gentle, this is really long

following a rough battle with a rather inconvenient villian and his quirk, y/n finds herself induced with aphrodisiac against her will. she wins the encounter, only to be told if she doesn't relieve her sexual desires within 24 hours with another individual she will die.

"i'll be the one to do it," mineta says, trying to sound nonchalant about the situation, flipping his non-existent hair off to the side if his shoulder. the girls, in unison, disagree verbally, knowing of his creepy tendencies.

"can't she just do it with a girl?" tsuyuri thinks aloud, attempting to find an easy way for you to feel more comfortable with the situation. "if that's the case, then i'll do it!" ashido declares, raising her hand in the air.

this has been the subject of conversation for the past hour or so. yes, your classmates and even teachers are conversing on what to do about your current state, on who will be the one to sleep with you. it's almost heartwarming, to know that your classmates care so much about you that they'd be willing to sleep with you if it means you'll live.

which is exactly what it means. exactly nine hours ago, you had a confrontation with a well-wanted villian. you knew of the risks, you knew of his horrendous and taboo quirk. you knew that he used his quirk to take advantage of women who were defenseless and practically leaving them for dead within 24 hours of interaction.

quirks like these were rare, none of your classmates nor teachers had any experience with this type of thing. originally, the teachers were going to discuss of this situation privately, but after almost three hours had gone by with no real possible solutions, they had decided to involve your dearest classmates to come up with something, anything to help save your life.

"no, according to the villian and the tiny information we were able to get out of him, it has to be done with a male." midnight had said, rubbing at her temple to ease her stress. your female classmates groaned with frustration, side-eyeing mineta with disgust.

"t-then i'll do it!" a new contender had volunteered. "y-you? y/n needs a real man, denki—," jirou had said, trying to play of her nervousness with a chuckle. "i agree." momo said sternly.

"no offense but.. how about the boys leave this discussion to the boys." she added on, having distrust in the intentions of her male classmates. "i know you boys just want to do what you can to help her, but we also have to think about how this will affect her mentally."

the topic carried on with the girls, occasionally one of the boys attempted to give a idea, but were almost immediately shot down due to it's risk.

admist to all the tension and debate, there was one who was uncharacteristically quiet. bakugou katsuki.

all of the boys were huddled into a circle, behind the girls, listening into their plan. however, it was bakugou who stuck out like a sore thumb. he kept his hands in his pockets, a rather stoic expression written onto his face as he stared up to the ceiling.

"i'll do it! you guys just gotta trust me!" mineta yelled once more, his body jolting with fear when he was met with clear resistance from the girls.

everyone was too wrapped up in figuring out a game-plan to even notice that bakugou had taken his leave, muttering a scoff at his classmates's immaturity and perversion.

he made his way to the dorms, his hand rubbing at the tense skin of his nape. bakugou stopped in his tracks, seemingly he wasn't the only one who had the same idea. his hands returned to their place in his pockets, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of his classmate, todoroki shouto, standing a few feet away from your dorm room.

"what are you doing here?" bakugou asked, resting his body weight on his right leg. todoroki looked back at bakugou calmly, observing the blonde's stiff movements. "i want to help y/n-san." todoroki stated, glancing back at the door of your room.

bakugou scoffed at his answer, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "yeah right—you?" he hissed, coming up to todoroki and shoving him away from your door. "don't make me laugh. i'll be the one to do it."

todoroki stayed in place for a moment, blinking at bakugou's aggression and determination. he glanced once more at your door, and then back to bakugou before sighing with defeat and turning around to head god knows where.

bakugou scoffed once more, not taking his eyes off todoroki until he was well out of his sight. bakugou turned around, his red eyes staring intently at your door. he chewed on the walls of his mouth, wondering how to go about the situation.

as brash as he may be—he's not an idiot. he knows that if you don't end up getting any help within a few mere hours, you'll die. and thats not what he wants. to stand and watch while his dumb classmates argue over who will be the one to have the honor of having sex with you is something he won't abide with.

ೄྀ࿐

a soft moan escaped your lips at the feel of your fingers caressing against your sensitive folds. a drop of sweat ran down your flushed face, running down to your collarbone and dampening the sheer tank you were wearing.

there was a knot in your abdomen, a very tight knot, that has been yet to be undone. normally, when you had this kind of urge, you'd be able to satisfy it yourself. but it's been nearly eight hours since you'be been drugged, and the effects only get more and more intense with every passing minute.

you're tired. your body is coated in a thick layer of sweat, the room smells grossly of your own scent, and it's been eight hours—yet no release. tears sting at your waterline, your hand coming up to cover your pathetic whines and cries as your fingers scissor their way into your cunt, trying to find relief to your frustration.

you gasp with pleasure when your finger nails press ever so slightly against that one spot, hazy eyes going wide when you finally find it. your back arches off the bed, toes curling when you can barely press your fingerpads against that sweet spot, but nonetheless it's something.

your body jolts when you hear a light knock at your door, hands flying to grab onto your blanket to hide your half-naked body. you sat frozen on your bed, eyes watching the door.

a couple of moments later, once again the visitor knocked, snapping you out of your haze. you rushed to find any pajamas or clothes to wear, eventually settling on a pair of grey pajama shorts. the visitor knocks again once more, earning a groan from you. "g-give me a second!" you hiss loudly, dusting off your body and finally walking up to your door.

with a deep inhale, you open up your door a few inches, hiding your sweat-ridden body behind the large frame and peeking out your head to see the visitor.

your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of the familar blonde, his red eyes lidded low at you. "b-bakugou?" you stutter out, your cheeks blushing intensely when you feel your core throb at just the sight of him. "what... are you doing here?" you say, swallowing down the fat lump in your throat.

bakugou stares at you, his facial expressions uncharacteristically calm and unreadable. "..isn't it obvious?" he says nonchalantly, taking a step towards the door. his low tone heats up your body, making you impossibly warmer with embarrassment to top it off with your seemingly insatiable desire.

still, you don't move from the door, and if anything, push it forward so only a few centimeters remain between the frame and the door itself. your forehead rests against the wood, contemplating your options.

bakugou katsuki has come to your door to do the obvious with you. for many others, this would be a dream come true—and it almost is, for you, almost. tears cloud your vision once more at the thoughts that run throughout your head, he's only here because you'll die.

"let me in y/n,—", "no, i don't want you here." you interrupt, still hiding behind the door. bakugou's eyes widen slightly at your refrusal, not expecting you to shut him down given the situation.

to you, it's almost insulting—bakugou katsuki is here to have sex with you, to save you. your crush of many years, is here to have sex with you, but only because he feels the need to save you, not because he wants to.

bakugou sighs silently, he knows its a sensitive matter, that you're practically forced to have sex with someome that you possibly don't like just to live. his fists tighten up into a ball, his eyebrows furrowing at your stubbornness. but he won't have you die, he won't knowing he could help you.

"y/n. open the door or i'm going to break it down myself." he says sternly, his voice raising slightly. it sends shivers down your spine, but still you hold your ground. alas, you find it within yourself to close the door, only for it to be held open by bakugou who most definitely overpowers you when it comes to strength. with a grunt, your already weak arms give in, quickly dropping back to the floor as the door slams against the wall now that bakugou has won the short game of tug-o-war.

bakugou makes his way into your room, not even caring to check if the door handle has made a new hole in the wall. his mouth opens, ready to say something, only to purse into a straight line when he sees the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"i don't want you here." you mumble out, attempting to hide your tears by wiping them away as quick as they came.

with a grunt, bakugou is pulling you up to your feet, his hands gripping onto your shoulders while his lips smash against yours. the kiss is rough, almost uncomfortably stiff. and yet, you almost let out a moan of satisfaction just by him giving the worst kiss ever. he pulls away a moment later, his hands keeping you in place.

not like you'd be able to walk away even if you wanted, your gaze was fixated on his soft features, eyeing those lips of his. this time, it's bakugou whose walking away—and it's you who is running after him.

with haste, you push yourself forward to the blonde, your hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back to you. bakugou breathes out a grunt when your lips collide with his once more, desperate and clumsy, more teeth than tongue. you can't help but grab into bakugou's broad shoulders before finding better purchase by wrapping them around his neck, feet on all toes in order to reach his lips.

bakugou pulls away from you, quickly shutting the door and locking it. though, he barely has time to do the second, as soon as the door is closed, you're pushing him against it and shoving your body against his, encapturing his lips with yours once again. he swallows your desperate whines, his tongue fighting for dominance against yours. it's messy, it's not at all in sync—but just that alone has your body heating up than what you thought was possible.

and bakugou can feel it. his hands find purchase on the small of your waist—your skin is hot to the touch, almost fever hot. he raises an eyebrow when the feel of his skin on yours alone has you letting out a soft moan, much to your embarrassment. experimentally, bakugou's hands travel down to the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh lightly, earning a gasp from your lips.

seeing this, bakugou pulls away from you, a fat string of saliva connecting the two of you. his red eyes watch you tortuously, watching the way your delicate features contort with pleasure as his hands explore your ass, his squeezes getting more and more rough as your body reacts. his finger glides up to the hems of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings and eventually pulling on one to untie the knot, allowing your flimsy excuse of so-called shorts to drop and lay around your feet.

your cheeks burn at the way he stares closely at your half-naked body, eyes darting down to the ground when you realize that you didn't even put on any underwear. to you, bakugou is eyeing your body, looking for any imperfections and unsatisfying marks.

but to bakugou, he has to hold back a groan by biting on his lower lip at the sight of your bare cunt. his hands tighten it's grip on your hips, attempting to keep his composure. bakugou finally pushes himself off the door, leading you quickly by the small of your waist to your bed.

with a gentle shove, you're laying down onto your back, your legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. your eyes widen when bakugou's hands grab the hems of his shirt, pulling it up to his head and discarding of his shirt, revealing his rather toned abs and few scars he's gained in the various fights he's gotten into as a hero.

your mouth is agape in awe, practically drooling at the sight of his fit muscles and small waist. without another word, your hand subconsciously reaches for him, generously touching the muscles of his abdomen. for the first time of the night, bakugou finally shows some emotion, smirking widely at your infatuation with his abs.

"i know i got some great abs, huh?" he grins, his hand coming up to rest on the flesh of your thigh. his grin flattens to an slightly agape 'O' when your hand travels down lower to his lower pelvis, your nails caressing the skin, sending shivers down his spine. dangerously, it continues, your fingers meddling with the edge of his baggy pants, circling the metal button.

before you could do anything else, bakugou is grabbing your hand away, and much to your surprise, settles himself inbetween your bare legs, eyeing your exposed cunt. naturally, you rush to close your legs, but are stopped by his hands that rest on both of your inner thighs.

"don't try to hide yourself from me." he growls lowly, his cock growing hard in his pants at the fuller sight of your glistening cunt. a yelp leaves your throat when you are pulled closer to the edge of your bed, cunt mere centimeters from bakugou's face. your eyes close shut, palm hiding your face in embarrassment.

"open your damn eyes, you're gonna watch as i eat this pretty pussy." he hisses out before blowing lightly onto your folds, enjoying the way your thighs shiver. with a lick of his lips, bakugou dives into your cunt, his tongue dragging across your folds and into your core. you let out a rather loud moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your cunt, your hands diving down to entangle themselves in his short blonde locks.

as told, you watch bakugou devour your poor pussy through tears, moaning into your palm to not let anyone hear the way you're getting eaten out by one of your classmates. your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel bakugou enter his index finger into your tight walls, massaging your gummy walls without mercy.

"bakugou.." you mewl out, back arching off the bed when you feel the knot in your stomach begin to unravel. the fingers tied in his hair pull tightly on his roots, earning a hum of satisfaction leave his lips, vibrating against your clit so deliciously it has you sobbing out his name within seconds and squirming within his tight hold as you cum. tears run down your cheeks as your body convulses with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed intensely as your first orgasm of the night washes over you.

a minute later, you finally come down to earth, chest heaving heavily as your eyes focus down to bakugou who licks up the remains of your delicious juices. it's so over stimulating, but it feels so good, the way his tongue laps up your cum as if he was a starved man.

for a second, you close your eyes, basking in the sweet after-glow of your orgasm before a familar vibrating sound snaps you out of your bliss. bakugou holds up the pink bullet-vibrator within his hand, cocking his head to the right. "this yours?" he asks teasingly, a sly grin painted into his face.

before you could respond, bakugou is pressing the bullet against your clit, sending waves of overstimulated pleasure up your spine. you wiggle and shift on your bed, attempting to get away from it, from him, but in the heat of the moment you seem to have forgotten of bakugou's trained strength. he pins your hips onto the bed with ease with one hand, and holds the bullet to your clit with the other.

he evilly chuckles into your cunt, his tongue gliding into your tight hole. your cries and pleas are melodies to his ears, and he only stops when your thighs are shaking for a second time around his head and your pussy walls are tightening up around his tongue. he hungrily laps up your fluids once more, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit as he discards of the vibrator in order to grab onto the back of your thighs and practically smothers himself into your pussy.

finally, once he's deemed you cleaned up and not an ounce of your cum wasted, he pulls away from your drenched pussy. his chin glistens with your juices, his tongue lapping up any remains on his lips. his ruby red eyes watch as your chest heaves up and down, his hand grabbing your wrist that was covering your flushed face and discarding it to the side.

he passionately kisses you, not like the kisses you two shared earlier. rather, your inhaling his heavy breaths as his hips roll subconsciously into yours, his hard-on poking against your inner thigh. "bakugou.." you exhaled against his lips, your hand sliding inbetween your close bodies to palm his confined cock.

bakugou lets out a almost pained groan, his eyebrows furrowing at the feel of your hand brushing against his cock's tip. "fuck.." he groans, his head dipping down to your chest when your hand slides below his trousers and over his confined boner. "wanna help you too bakugou," you mumble shyly, batting those pretty eyelashes at him.

the tempered blonde seems to have been frozen in place at your unexpected boldness, his cock growing impossibly harder at your words. he curses under his breath when your hand glides in between the gap of his boxers, your fingers coming into contact with the skin of his cock.

you're so unexpected. it's all bakugou can ever think of. unlike all the others, you've surprised him the most. you've surprised him with your wits—instead of strength and speed. no matter how mean or offensive he's been to you, you've been nothing but a saint—going so far to even nurse him back to health after a particularly aggressive battle with a villian.

thats why he had to be the one to help you. after all you've done for him, he had to return the favor in the one time he could save your life, even if it meant having sex would save you. he wasn't about to let those ungrateful, clueless extras do it with you either when they didn't deserve the opportunity to have you so vulnerable for them.

and having sex with you doesn't seem too bad, not in the slightest. especially not when your hand is pumping his cock so deliciously. bakugou's lips apart slightly, a sharp gasp escaping when your palm tightens around his sensitive cock.

you jolt when bakugou's own hand wraps around your wrist firmly, practically slapping it away from his cock. you look up at him with filmy eyes, looking for an explanation within his own. "gotta focus on you," he mumbles under his breath, his hands coming down to your hips and dragging you down to him.

bakugou finally begins to undo his belt, the metal buckle causing your ears to tingle. he pushes down his pants to his lower thighs, for a second he glances up at you, to which you can see a small glimpse of the red tint that covers the apples of his cheeks and the way he stares intently at your features, most likely waiting to see your reaction.

he slides his dark red boxers down to the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock of his uncomfortable confines. and, just wow, maybe it's because you're quite literally drugged with a sex drug, or maybe he's just that perfect—but just the sight of his cock has your pathetic pussy walls clenching and throbbing around nothing.

your mouth salivates at the mere thought of his cock, and just now seeing it—god you just want him to fuck you already. without a thought, your hand reaches once more for him, only for bakugou to pin your wrist down to the side of your body, his own climbing on top of the bed. your legs come to rest on each sides of his hips, his thighs underneath yours while he sits on his knees.

it seems you're not the only one so horny, afterall, as bakugou wrapped his hand around cock, his hips inching closer to yours, his body jolted, eyes widening. his sudden movement has your heart dropping in your stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on your body. "w-what? what is it?" you stutter out, your hand crossing defensively over your clothed chest.

bakugou's cheeks seem to bloom more a shade of red as he leans back, searching for something in his pocket. "hah.. i almost forgot the condom.." he says, taking out the unmistaken small square packet out of his pocket.

you chuckle lightly at the mistake, feeling embarrassment for yourself as well. to think that you two were so wrapped up in the heat of the moment that you almost forgot the condom gives such a strange feeling in your stomach.

finally, bakugou puts the condom on, a bit shaky with embarrassment as he slides it on. all prepared, he looks up at you—possibly the calmest you've ever seen him, but there's a hint of seriousness and maybe even care with the way his eyebrows are furrowed lightly or how his eyes never leave your face.

"ready?" he asks cautiously, his hand gripped onto the underside of your thigh with the other resting on the side of your lower stomach. with your nod of approval, bakugou meets his thighs to your ass, his cock tip pressing lightly against your virgin hole.

before bakugou could go any further, your soft sobs stop him. his head immediately snaps up to yours, his eyes wide with shock. your eyes are once again wet with tears, eyebrows arched and lips frowning.

"i know this is not very convenient, y/n, but if we don't do this, you'll die-", he tries to say before he's interrupted by your sobs and hiccups. through fat tears and incoherent sentences, you finally manage to say something clear.

"it's not that." you practically hiss, surprising the blonde. "..then what is it?" he urges, a confused expression forming on his face. with a loud sigh, you groan loudly with anger and sadness, practically throwing your hands to your face as you try to wipe away your never-ending tears.

"i d-didn't want it to be like t-this!" you sob loudly, your shoulders jumping with every hiccup. before bakugou could press any further, the years of untold suffering and thoughts just came rushing to you, spilling out of your mouth like vomit. "i-i didn't w-want it to be l-like this! to happen like this!"

"oh my g-god! bakugou i've been in love with you since i've m-met you—and it–it hurts—for it to happen this way—you're only doing this just b-because you f-feel obligated to do i-it—not because you l-love me—" you mumble out, hands covering your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction.

"for it to ha-happen this way—it's like a whole prank..! like a fucking—slap in the face!" you say, practically yelling the last part as your hands fly down to the bed with frustration, finally meeting bakugou's gaze. your sobs quiet down, stomach churning at the realization of the word vomit you just had.

you thought he would be weirded out, maybe even make fun of you for it. but instead, bakugou is now looking at you with an unfamiliar gaze, full of something that seems to just be more than politeness and friendly care. sure, he's not smiling, but the way his red eyes are half-lidded, pupils dilated so big they might as well just be black, his eyebrows no longer furrowed but instead arched upwards with what seems to be surprise.

before you could say anything else, waves of sharp pain are shot up your spine as bakugou unexpectedly pushes in the tip of his cock, his arms now finding purchase by wrapping around your waist, lowering himself closer to you.

his lips press yours, slow and steady as he inches his fat cock into you. he pulls away from your lips with a grunt, his eyebrows arched downwards as he tries to set aside the way your cunt feels so heavenly wrapped around the end of his cock.

"i'm sorry for how i've been treating you." he says lowly, his teeth nipping at the pristine skin of your collarbone. "i just didn't know how to tell you—didn't think you felt the s-same," he breathes out, stuttering the last word when your walls clench around his cock. bakugou curses under his breath, trying to ground himself by pawing at your clothed breasts, sliding his hands under your tank to feel the bare skin.

bakugou's words has fresh tears forming once again at your water line. "the same..?" you think out loud, a hiccup escaping your throat at the realization.

"f-fuck, y/n—," he chokes out, his balls becoming flush with the curve of your ass. "bakugou.. the same?" you urge on, a small gasp leaving your lips when his cock tip glazes against your sweet spot. it takes bakugou to find the strength to answer, but he does with a groan, rising his upper body to have a better look at the sight of you.

"..yes the same you dummy." he finally confirms, his eyes unable to lock with yours, instead choosing to glue themselves to the sight of your tight pussy swallowing his cock. without wasting another second, your hands fly to his nape, pulling him back down to kiss him roughly. the two of you moan into the kiss, your hands desperately exploring the skin of his back while his continue to grope and massage your breasts.

"hah—i just couldn't allow it.. i didn't want the others to have you.." he groans out, his hips speeding up against yours. his teeth bite at your breasts possessively, leaving dark red marks over the unmarked flesh. his possessiveness sends a shiver up your spine, making you impossibly more hornier than you thought possible.

"baku—katsuki," you mewl out, your fingernails digging trails of red into the skin of his back. his head nods silently at your use of his first name, his ears tingling intensely.

his head tilts up to face yours, unprepared for what you were about to say. "please fuck me. i need you."

with a few words of heavy profanity, all previously known touches of gentleness are thrown out the window and bakugou is throwing your leg over shoulder and practically folding you in half. bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, if not your screams of pleasure would be heard by all the other people in these dorms—and he's not quite on board with any nobodies hearing your pretty moans.

bakugou practically jackhammers his hips into yours, his cock tip bullying your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head at the foreign feeling of your cervix being fucked, of your cunt being mercilessly destroyed by a fat cock. your hand flies up to the head board, desperately attempting to find purchase on anything to keep you grounded.

his cock grazing your sweet spot has you screaming once more into his palm, creaming around him for the first time that night. "f-fuck—" bakugou curses loudly, his teeth drawing blood on his lower lip in an attempt to hide own moans.

your cunt walls have a vice grip on his cock, practical almost leaving him unable to move as you cum around him. still, bakugou works his hips in and out, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from cumming just yet.

in an last ditch effort to do so, bakugou lifts his palm up from your mouth, flipping your body so you lay onto your stomach. he's quick to shove his cock back into your overstimulated cunt, rutting into you like a dog in heat. bakugou doesn't find it within himself to care when you're moaning so loud that the first floor can probably hear you, neither does he care that he's fucking you so hard that the bed frame begins to slam against the wall.

all he cares about is destroying your cunt, destroying you, something he's been wanting to do since he's met you. "fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n you feel so fuckin' good—i'm gonna cum," he babbles, his cock growing hard at the sight of your fat ass bouncing with every impact of his thrusts.

you're no better off than him, moaning his name desperately like a mantra. bakugou finally comes with a sharp and deep thrust, pushing his cock so deep it has the tip flush with your bruised cervix. he groans incoherent words, most likely profanities, as he cums into the condom, his hands gripping on the swell of your hips as he tries to ground himself.

you cum just at the unmistaken warmth that pools inside of you, tongue lolling out of your mouth pathetically. your body twitches underneath his weight, hands weakly grabbing onto his biceps. "katssshuki.." you mewl out, stars practically twinkling in your eyes.

bakugou pulls out of you with a sharp inhale, taking off the filled condom. his cock twitches when you stop him just as he's about to throw away, taking the cum-filled latex from his hand and holding it over your mouth, allowing the cum to drip onto your tongue and into your throat.

he watches you with wide eyes as you practically suck the cum out of the condom before throwing it into the trash bin on the side of your bed. you look at him with a grin, licking your lips generously before giggling.

bakugou's face twitches uncontrollably, any remains of the composure and the obvious "better safe than sorry", he has left is discarded before he practically pounces on you like a wild beast.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bakugou is jolted awake, his eyes darting to the door of your room. theres a couple of knocks, his eyes look for your clock, '5:04 AM'.

he shuts his eyes, fully okay with ignoring the late visitor before theres more knocks. bakugou, begrudgingly, gets up, only because he doesn't want you to wake up.

he wraps his lower body in a spare blanket, taking a few seconds to rub awaken more before he's inching the door open, just barely enough to see who the visitor is. though, his shoulders relax when he sees it's just mr. aizawa at the door, most likely checking up on your state.

mr. aizawa blinks unexpectedly at bakugou, surely not expecting him to answer the door. his expression softens at the realization, being quick to offer an explanation. "i was just coming here to see if y/l/n was alright.. but i see it's under control, right?"

aizawa punctuates the last word of his sentence with the tilt of his head, his eyes pointing out bakugou's half-naked body. bakugou in response sheepishly shrugs, muttering out a groggy 'yeah' before closing the door.

he stands at the closed door for a second, rubbing his eyes tiredly before turning around to go back to bed, your bed more specifically. he stops in his tracks for a moment before continuing, seeing that you're now sitting up and staring at him.

"katsuki.." you breathe out tiredly, practically purring when you feel his hand settle onto your hip, bringing you back down onto the bed with him.

the two of you share a chaste kiss, departing only to get a short breathe in before you're pushing your body against his, deepening the kiss once more for the nth time that night.

please like and reblog with tags

[lylian333]

~Yandere emperor x reader~

warning: read at your own risk, traumatizing, dark historical shits, noncon, force, many misunderstandings,sexual harrest , angst ,age gap, everything here is quite insane, historical au, he's fucking crazy, killing, insults, English is not my first langue(if there's any warning I didn't put, tell me)

words:2180

(this is not my art I found it on Pinterest, and in the comment section it's said that it was made by AI so��)

~~

Princess (y/n) Laurier has been best friends with Princess Alyssa Everett since you both were just 6 years old. You both have many things in common, such as interests, opinions, and much more.

You both would usually hang out around each other's kingdom; you don't have any issues with her except with her father, Emperor Edward Everett. He was the hottest, most handsome man you have ever met, and you still do now.

You have had a huge crush on him that felt like butterflies inside your stomach since the day you met him, but he always has that emotionless face and rarely smiles unless at his wife, your best friend's mother. You know this from Princess Alyssa; she would complain about how cold and serious he is.

You still ignore those and try getting to know him, but he just looks annoyed or just straight-up ignores you, but you ignore it and still continue liking him. Not only that, you're not the only one; it's obvious that everyone that has met him, females and even males, all drool for him.

You still have some sense in you, and you also have to respect the Everett queen and Princess Alyssa since she is your best friend. You can't just let some love ruin the relationship you both had. You can't. She is like a sister to you. She helps you when you're confused; she protects and defends you when you were getting laughed at; she is there when you needed someone the most. It's not worth losing a relationship like this, and so your liking toward his father slowly dies down.

But things change when you grow up and start having features and curves and in the end, you become a gorgeous woman, many people are jealous of you even Princess Alyssa confesses to you about it and some desperately want you. You reject all of them since none of them are worthy of you, and you're disinterested in them.

Your intense gaze and soft complexion, with your structured face and striking presence, are on par with an iconic beauty, paired with the warmth and softness in your expression, which are very delicate. You would struggle to not look at yourself when there is a mirror.

You still have some feelings toward Emperor Edward, but you manage to hide it and be able to not think about him when talking to him.

The worst thing that could have happened was that the Queen of Everett died from childbirth while trying to give birth to the heir to the throne, but it went to a disaster. It was devastating news to hear from everyone.

The emperor was absolutely devastated and even despised the child. From that moment on he would never talk to anyone unless it was part of a duty, but other than that he would ignore the servant's advisers and even his own kids, which left Princess Alyssa depressed since she had to bear her mother's death, her father's coldness, and the baby boy that her mother lost her life to.

That week she came crying to you when you came to visit her and attended the funeral of the Everett Queen death. You decide to stay at Everett Palace for a few months before going back to Laurier Kingdom.

You promised Princess Alyssa that you'd take care of her and her baby brother, and so you did. After all, back at your kingdom and your family, you have 6 siblings, plus you, and you are the third eldest, which makes you the middle You have experience with babies after the experience of you sibling that you swear are more naughtyer when you take care of them.

In those months of staying, Emperor noticed that you had to take care of the baby boy and Princess Alyass when he found you singing a lullaby for them to fall asleep.

At that moment something in him awoke, something dark, horrible, and disgusting. He knew this was wrong, but who was there to stop him? Not even himself could do that.

From that moment on, he would try getting close to you and getting to know you better; by that, he would call you into his office or into his chamber. When talking, he would get close to you, too close, to the point that he's invading your personal space by burying his face in your hair, breathing in that sweet, gentle scent, or sucking and biting your earlobe.

You knew this was wrong. You both knew this was wrong, but you guys still continued. Your brain keeps telling you to stop and that this is your best friend's father, but your gut tells you to continue. For your best friend Princess Alyssa's sake.

At one of those meetings, you confess to him that you don't want to continue these "meetings" to respect your best friend Alyssa and her baby brother Prince James.

But when he hears that you swear you could feel the air getting tense and his face looks tense as well, and with clenched fists, he looks like he could kill someone that might have been you or others.

He then pushes you onto his office desk and forcefully rips your clothes off. All you can remember that day was just horror, pure fucking horror. It haunts your dreams, memories, and everything that you see that can somehow be related to the day you and he were together.

The cherry on top is Emperor Endward sends an arranged marriage to your kingdom between you both; you pray that your parents would reject this offer, but no. Instead, they accept it and send you a letter telling you the reasons that this could help our kingdom very much and this could give you a better future and more, but all you care about is that you're trapped with him. They also added in that they would be unable to see because of the distance of the two kingdoms and that it is time to set you free.

Oh, how you wish it were true to let you spread your wings and have your own freedom.

You hated everything, mostly yourself. You hated yourself for not being more alert and not telling anyone, not even your own family or close ones; you—you can't even describe the feeling that you're feeling at that point. You quite literally were disgusted by yourself.

You cry all day long to the point where Princess Alyssa hears it and finds you, and you vomit out all the things that happened while still crying. You wish the earth could just eat you whole, make you disappear from the earth, from this world, from this life.

You keep pressuring yourself that this is your fault for days till your hair has a few strands of white hair that you have noticed.

The wedding was within the week, and you both got married and wed. That very day and night of the "honeymoon," he slams you against the bed carelessly and forcibly spears open your legs with his hand while another pins both your head on top of your head.

You whisper near your ear,True to be told, I have actually noticed that since you were just a little girl, you always had a crush on me, so technically you wanted this to happen, so don't cry like last time, dear."

Your eyes go wide when you hear that he actually noticed. He knows that you have no words—absolutely no words.

That night was as horrible and traumatizing as the night you both had together. Princess Alyssa personally tries to help you escape; even after the marriage, she still supports you, even knowing the fact you are technically her stepmother.

But she accepted you, and you were quite stunned at how she handled the situation. Even though it was like hell, she still helped, whether by holding you while you were crying or whatever she was still there. It felt like she was starting to take care of you instead of you taking care of her like how you first promised.

In one of the many attempts of you trying to escape and her helping you with it, you both were caught, and Emperor Edward decided to punish you by isolating you and sentencing Princess Alyssa to be beheaded, his own daughter.

And you were forbidden to give her any visits after the situation. You didn't get the chance to even give her the last hug or talk or anything, not even a goodbye. You even threatened to kill yourself if he didn't allow you to see her, but he just laughs at you and tells the guards to throw you inside a dungeon where there's nothing, not even a window, so you have to rely on the fire outside.

Just like that, she's gone forever. You cry for days and refuse to eat, sleep, or even drink. The king himself has to personally force-feed you so that you don't die. You even scream and beat him as hard as you can in rage whenever you see him, but he just stands there, not unbothered. You might as well think that he doesn't even care or feel anything anymore, no remorse, no nothing, just disgusting lovesick eyes looking at you.

"I just can't get enough of you, love~"

Your life goes on until you have had enough, like enough one more year of this. You seriously don't think you want to be reincarnated into another life. You desperately want to feel things instead of being trapped in the shared chamber all day long, only allowed to go out to the garden for 1 hour to get fresh air with a few ladies in waiting and your own trusted servants near you to keep being aware of you and make sure you're not doing anything harmful to yourself or escaping.

You came up with the stupidest and most shameful idea. You decide to frame yourself for cheating on Emperor Edward and confess to him that you cheated. Making up fake clues for others to notice and gossip about, but the emperor refuses to believe it, so you told him personally.

"I cheated on you, Edward."

"You must be joking, dear. How would you even be able to do that, hm?"

but you just keep repeating the sentence, "I cheated on you."

This makes him overthink and triggers him, and he ends up struggling with you to death in the process. You still keep repeating the sentence, which forces him to grip your neck even harder till you are no longer breathing—not even a single movement, just soulless eyes staring straight.

When he realized that it was too late and there was no turning back, he let go of your neck, and you collapsed onto the ground, dead. He kneeled down next to you; finally, at this moment, he felt guilty for everything. He reflected on the things he had done to you, the amount of damage. Why didn't he think about this earlier? Maybe that could help him.

No, it's your fault for cheating on him. How dare you filthy women cheat on an emperor that has done everything for her sake? To this day he still blames you, but part of him does regret not caring what you felt and thought. He only treated you like a toy, a glass doll that would easily be broken. But he just couldn't help but love you with all his might, even if it meant hurting you.

He tried to keep your body from decomposing and rotting and would soak you in water to slow down the decomposing. He even went mad and brought you to the throne room for events, dressed you properly, stuffed you with cotton to keep you looking more alive, and said to others, "My wife is doing well; look at her, she's such a sleepy head; look at her sleeping, hehe…"

Sadly, eventually, he had no other choice but to finally bury you because your body was decomposing and smelling really bad. At the funeral, he gives a speech on how she was in his life and how he can't believe she died before him from 'sickness' and oh how sad he was and how he saw her glowing up into an elegant woman and more.

Prince James also gave a speech about how you try helping out, that he always sees her as a mother figure, and how (y/n) has always tried her best. He was innocent in all of these; as well, he even balled his eyes out when he found out that you died.

At the very last moment of seeing your face, he cupped your cheek one last time.

"Oh, how much I will miss you oh how I wish that I could go with you as well, but it's fine you don't need to worry love In my will, when I die, I'm going to be buried right next to you." He says that while chuckling while feeling remorse.

~~

omg, there are so many things I want to comment on but erm yeah this is how it is??? it could have been worse

[erajunex]

The House of Sin. (part 1)

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: Father Charlie Mayhew x housekeeper!fem!reader

Summary: Your very religious family decides to preserve you from the evil of the world by entrusting you to Father Charlie as his housekeeper. You’re welcome in the House of Sin.

TW (for this part): NSFW. SMUT. blasphemy; mentions and references to catholic themes (some of them are prob inaccurate sorry); reader is very religious (but not innocent); mentions of blood; graphic description of self-inflicted flagellation; masturbation; voyeurism; swearing.

a/n: English is not my first language, so please be kind bc this took me so long to translate (lol), if you wanna be added to the tag-list for the next part lemme know with a comment pls

Enjoy xx

Father Charlie Mayhew had always been faithful and devoted to the promises he made before God when he decided to please Him for the rest of his earthly life, and with the same devotion he always made an effort to spread love for God within his parish.

In his whole life, he never felt the slightest desire to act in opposition to the Lord's word, he never succumbed to temptation, and his spirit never entertained the idea of sinning.

He was the perfect servant, the best guide for his parish, and for the faithful whom the Lord entrusted to him.

Or at least that was what everyone believed about him, including your parents, who thought that offering you the position of Father Charlie’s housekeeper would be the best way to protect you from the vices and dangers of the outside world.

Your father was a strict and religious man who raised you with rules and discipline, so you accepted his decisions without question.

Father Charlie knew your family well and recognized your parents' honesty and devotion, so he had high expectations for you, and you would’ve met all of them.

The initial period of living together at his house was quite peaceful, and being with him felt comfortable from the very first day. You spent your days peacefully working for him, cleaning his house and the church, doing laundry, and preparing lunch and dinner. Nevertheless, you always found a moment for prayer. You shared everything with him and you were grateful and respectful at the point you considered him a master despite his young age.

You recognized your parents' admiration for him, and you shared it too because he was a decent man who cared for all his faithful and his mission as God's servant. He was charismatic, persuasive, and seemingly flawless. To be honest, his personality intrigued you. You had to admit that sometimes you found him charming, but those were just fleeting thoughts that you quickly pushed aside— till tonight.

It’s late at night; all the lights are off, and Father Charlie has retired to his room about an hour ago.

You’ve just finished washing the dishes and are getting ready for the night. As you prepare to head to the room he had assigned to you when you first arrived, a flicker of light and subtle noise from his door catch your attention as you walk through the hallway.

At first, you think it’s just a perception, but as your feet slow down until they stop in the hallway, you realize your ears are not wrong.

Driven by curiosity you approach the door slowly, trying not to make a sound as you peek through the half-closed door to see out what is happening inside his room. But, you know, sometimes curiosity can kill.

You freeze. Your jaw drops, and your eyes widen as they look straight at the scene being etched in your memory.

Father Charlie sits at the edge of the bed, fully exposed to your gaze, the soft light casting shadows on his bare skin. His back is turned to the painting of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall, a watchful presence above him from which he is trying to hide himself.

He’s panting. He’s completely naked. With one hand around his cock.

His eyes are closed and his slightly parted lips release soft moans of pleasure, the rhythm of his breath filling the quiet room. A sheen of sweat glistens on his naked body as he keeps moving his left hand at a rapid pace, trying to set himself free from the lustful thoughts that had taken over his body as soon as possible.

Your breath breaks.

You can’t believe it. Father Charlie has succumbed to the desire of the flesh, his soul becoming stained by a sin he should never have committed. Not him. Not a priest like him.

And without knowing, he‘s pulling you into the Devil’s claws with him.

Because no matter how shocked you are, and no matter how hard you’re mentally cursing yourself for being overcome by curiosity, your eyes are glued to his magnificent body and cannot tear themselves away from it.

You are expected to go, but you can't. You don't want to.

For the first time in your whole yet short life, you hear it. That voice. The voice of temptation.

You continue to stare at him with bated breath, wishing that show will never end.

"Ah, fuck..." he groans and you shudder.

A shiver goes straight to your core, and you immediately feel an urge to clench your thighs together to hold back an unusual tickle that you had never experienced so strongly before.

However, it is not sufficient.

Forgive me, Father… you think. Your cheeks redden with shame as the last bit of reason fades away from you at that precise moment your right hand goes straight under the cloth of your sundress, and just as if it has been guided by a dark and sinister force it sneaks between your legs, right in your cotton panties.

For I have sinned.

You aren’t used to touching yourself, and even if you had done it on rare occasions you'd never imagined doing it like this— secretly watching your priest as he does the same thing.

Soon you realize that something inside you is changing rapidly. It‘s just a tiny spark, but it can set your whole body on fire in no time.

And it’s all his fault.

Your fingertips slide between your already-soaked folds, coating in juices that flow out of you like a river, and then you start teasing yourself shamefully, trying to focus on the scene in front of you to avoid those pitiful and lonely voices that keep whispering to you to stop.

“Yes…” he licks his lower lip and for a brief moment you imagine how good, how pleasant it could be the feeling of his wet tongue on your skin, exactly where your hand is. It’s so, so wrong and you know it, but you can’t control yourself. It’s overwhelming.

His nudity contrasts sharply with the solemnity of the image behind him. He looks so vulnerable, so…

“So good…” he says between moans. You want to know what he’s thinking, what kind of images are guiding his imagination— if you’re part of them too.

His forearm anchors on the mattress to balance himself, and his hips buck against his hand to gain more friction.

“Oh, God…” his broad chest is heaving with every breath that escapes his lungs as you try your best to swallow every squeak, careful not to get caught right there.

Sweat covers his forehead, small drops sliding down his ecstatic face and neck, igniting your deepest fantasies while your fingertips rub at your clit in circular motions, mimicking the pace at which he’s stroking his length.

You can’t help but look at it. Thick and veiny, the tip red and leaking with precum, your pussy throbs around nothing at the mere idea of putting his whole girth in your virgin mouth and knowing how good it could taste.

The man bites his lips and you do it too in reflection.

You are a mess. Your trembling thighs are soaked by the juices dripping from your aching pussy as you frantically touch yourself. Your entire being lies completely under the tight grip of the Devil, ensnared in a web of darkness that seeks to control every thought, feeling, and action.

His strokes become erratic, and his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of pain and bliss. He is close… and in such a short time you are too. Your teeth bite your lower lip until it bleeds, in a desperate attempt to hold back a whine. But you don't stop. You will not do it until he will too.

All of a sudden, his hand stops. A guttural sound of satisfaction slips past his throat reaching your ears as he throws his head back and the orgasm washes over him.

The tight knot in your belly snaps and thousands of shocks invade your body from head to toe. Your vision goes blurry, your mind goes fuzzy and your knees get weak like jelly.

You’ve just reached the peak without even knowing it.

Thick ropes of his white seed spill from his throbbing cock, falling right on his palm and stomach.

Your mouth waters at the sight, you can swear that if only it had been possible you’d walk into that damn room and kneel in between his huge thighs just to lick him clean and suck the soul out of him, making him cum again and again and again.

For God’s sake, those thoughts will send you straight to hell!

Silence takes his moans’ place, and his eyes open slightly as his breathing searches for a more regular pace, just like yours.

You pull out your hand from your soaked panties. A wave of post-orgasmic sense of guilt crashes over you. You have just sinned. Right now is time to go to your room and get some rest, forgetting what have just happened and never thinking again about it, and yet your eyes and your feet are stuck right here, quivering for his next moves.

Everything has been so tempting and your body wants more.

He suddenly gets up from the mattress and makes his way towards the antique dresser next to the bed. A bowl full of water is on top of it, and he quickly dips both his hands inside of it to his wrists, washing away every sign of the sinful act he had just committed—unaware it’s happened in front of you.

From that spot, his body is perfectly exposed to your gaze, and your mind takes advantage of this to explore new, undiscovered places.

He‘s tall, radiant, and huge. He looks like a classical statue. His broad chest and chiseled abs seem to be sculpted in marble, just like his thick thighs and the strong and muscular arms he usually hides under the vestments.

He’s handsome.

Only the Lord knows what those arms are capable of, how those big and veiny hands would be able to touch and grab a woman’s body- your body. How good his mouth would be able to kiss you, bite you, lick you, satisfying the most private parts of you like no one ever did. If only he didn’t have to respect the vows of celibacy and obedience... if only he didn't choose to refuse lust and resist temptation for the rest of his life…

He wipes his hands with a clean towel near the basin, heavy breathing releasing from his lungs as if he wants to get rid of that slamming weight on his shoulders. The weight of the mortal sin he has just given into, the reason why he deserves to be punished— and maybe you deserve it too.

You see him going through the drawer and picking something before he lifts the wooden kneeler to the side. And when he approaches the bed again, you recognize the scourge in his hand.

Your heartbeat down faster as soon as you realize what’s going to happen. Father Charlie places the kneeler in front of the bed, exactly where he was before, and turnes his back to you, revealing his broad shoulders and his back previously tortured by the hits he self-inflicted with the tool he’s now placing on the sheets.

A bunch of shivers flood your body from head to toe, trepassing your spine. You see the still-opened wounds and cuts on his pale skin, the clear signs of every time he sinned and begged for forgiveness.

He kneels and firmly takes the scourge in his right hand. Seven cords, seven barbs for the seven deadly sins, and seven virtues.

The mortification of the flesh.

It‘s the only way to deaden his sinful nature and bring back his focus to the only thing he pledged to honour even after his bodily death.

He rests his elbows on the board, with his back straight as he looks at the white wall in front of him, his eyes filled with certainty and confidence.

He stands right there unshaken, keeping you on edge for his next move before his lips parts and he speaks.

"Merciful Lord, I come before You seeking forgiveness and healing" with a rapid flick of his hand he whips himself violently, making you gasp in shock. You hear him holding his breath, trying his best not to cry and scream from pain, and then he spakes again.

"f-for the sin of lust that… dwells within me." another lash, another flinch from you. Cords are already leaving marks and bruises, you can feel how much they sting on his skin and on his previous wounds as the sharp edges sink on his back mercilessly.

"I confess m-my weakness in giving in to… impure desires" his stomach jolts in pain, and his dilated pupils stare blankly at the painting on the wall as his lips tremble with each syllable "and… indulging in lustful t-thoughts and actions t-that offend… You."

A lot of blood starts gushing out from his wounds, staining the cords with a bright red color.

You cover your mouth in shock. You can see the pained look on his face, pleasure has completely abandoned his now-suffering body that‘s writhing at the feeling of those rusty barbs tearing his flesh apart at every whipping, painting the cold floor with the spatters of his own blood.

Father Charlie is asking for forgiveness, pleading the Lord to save him and have mercy on his damned soul, because he is aware of the burden on his shoulders and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

And the only way to regain his purity is through suffering, through that physical pain that can purify both his body and soul, leaving him weak and miserable like a dazed sailor who lost his compass and cannot find the horizon.

"Purify my heart" he barely mutters, too exhausted "renew my mind" his forearms lost their grip on the rubbed wood of the kneeler forcing him to cling to it as strength slowly leaves his body. You watch him with an alarmed look on your face, worried about his state "and sanctify my body as Your temple."

A final statement spoken with a broken voice before Father Charlie immediately collapses on the wooden structure, visibly in a worn out state. Spurting blood stains his bare back, his eyelids squeeze trying to kill the pain of that one last whip that completely slashed his flesh.

You accidentally step back with your left foot, producing a nearly undetectable noise that forces you to lean your hand against the wall to keep balance in an attempt not to get caught. Too late.

Father Charlie turns around quickly, towards the door he previously left slightly ajar. His gloomy eyes meet yours even if shrouded in darkness. Your heart stops in your chest, becoming like a stone falling into a bottomless pit.

Shit.

a/n: part 2?

[satorusdiary]

hot rich dilf + babysitter reader

dilf! toji fushiguro x reader Mafia AU

age gap (reader is 21, toji is 39) + smut & fluff + reader is in college + toji is a rich man who lives a dangerous life

toji fushiguro.

the biggest mafia boss around Japan, a single dad, with one kid. he is also living in one of the most beautiful houses in Japan. the richest neighborhoods around on the hills, where no one is able to see it well.

whenever you would hear, see, or look at that name wherever you are in the city all you think about is hot, rich dilf.

it’s wrong to think of that, especially when you were the babysitter for his son. yet, toji couldn’t risk the dangers of his son being taken cared of in a public daycare; where anyone can take him and possibly use him as ransom.

that’s why he has you, his personal baby sitter. the young, beautiful woman who is still in college, taking care of his child. something his ex whore of a wife couldn’t do.

whenever you get a text whilst taking classes, your heart skips a beat and your thighs clench together at who the message is from.

Toji sent 1:23 pm

Hey, y/n. I’m sorry for the sudden message, is it alright if you babysit megumi around 4? I have important things to take care of at work.

he is a dangerous man, yet you would never back down taking care of his child. you are putting yourself in major risks, but whenever you would see toji’s frame holding megumi on his hip you think differently.

megumi is a different story, he is a splitting image of his father besides the scars. he’s a sweet boy, kind and respectful to you, and would constantly always want you over to his fathers house.

you enjoy his company, him and his father.

You sent 1:25 pm

of course, not a problem! my classes are ending so i’ll be able to be there by the time you’re about to leave.

Toji sent 1:25 pm

Great, thank you so much. I will double your payment for being able to take care of Megumi during a school day. Thank you again.

not to mention, how good the payment is! by the end of the day you are able to pay 3 months worth of rent for your apartment. there is never a time where you never have left over money for yourself.

you always think it’s a mistake by how much he pays you, how delusional you were missing all the signs he has given you.

the amount of times he would wink at you, with that sexy smirk on his scarred lips. the way he would love you out the way with a hand on your waist, carefully pushing you to the side.

and the way he gives you cheek kisses, saying it’s a friendly greeting towards everyone when he knows damn well he doesn’t kiss anyone’s cheek besides yours and megumis.

his hopes continue, his hopes in you falling for him continue to increase.

toji will always protect you, and megumi. even if you are just a baby sitter, to him you were more than that.

he appreciates the time you put in for his son, and for him. and he appreciates how you always manage to come to his house earlier than expected just to take care of megumi.

toji approaches you with a tight black suit, one that hugs his muscular frame insanely well. your thighs rub against each other without you noticing.

something that wants your heart is when he hold megumis hand, whilst approaching you. it’s cute and wholesome.

“megs, you be good for y/n okay? i’ll be back in a bit.” toji kisses megumis forehead, letting go of his hand before making his way towards you with a small, but seductive grin.

like always, he kisses your cheek before saying a word to you. your stomach has butterflies fluttering around, he continues to sweet talk you.

it’s funny, how could such a dangerous man who does unthinkable things everyday warm your heart in such a way?

“thank you so much, again y/n. here is the money, please be safe and help yourself around the house.” his green eyes pierce through your e/c eyes. his hands giving you a stack of money, more than usual.

your eyes widened, it’s too much. it’s almost as if you depend on him too much with the amount of money he gives you for what, just a few hours of you taking care of megumi?

"mr fushiguro, i cannot accept this. why are you handing me so much?" you questioned, looking up at his tall frame.

he shakes his head and chuckles, pushing your hand that was holding the money closer to your chest.

"its for you, and your hard work. don't question it, you deserve it sweetheart." the pet name slips out, but he has no shame in calling you that. you are his sweetheart after all.

before you could say anything else, he continues on. and continues to make you flustered with his words, and expressions.

"oh, and y/n dear, call me toji. no need to be so formal when you have done so much for me, and my son." he caresses your cheek before brushing past you, grabbing his hat and work jacket from the coat hanger.

"..thank you, so much toji! i will forever appreciate everything you have done for me sir." you smile up at him, waving him goodbye before he is out the door.

"not a problem, dear. you both take care, be back inna bit." he closes the door. the smile on your face hasn't left, and the fast speed of your hear beating increases as you lock the door with its additional locks.

you snap out of your joyful thoughts when megumi embraces you with his small, slightly chubby arms. they close around your waist as he looks up from your stomach with a heart warming smile.

"why cant you just get with my dad, y/n? he likes you soo much, and you treat us so well." he frowns, eyes glossy and filled with adortion.

your heart weeps, his stare makes you double think everything. what if you did get with toji?

"megs.. i don't think he likes me like that sweetheart. and its okay! its okay just being your baby sitter." you pick him up, placing him on your hip while you walk towards his play area. it was clean, free of toys scattered everywhere in the room.

"you're so wrong! i know he likes you a lot. he kisses your cheek, and forehead like me! that means he loves you." the word that holds so much power, and strength over anyone slips from his lips. yet he doesn't try to apologize and make it out as a mistake.

"not only that, but you are like a mommy to me. better than the other one, don't leave tonight. please y/n!" he cries out, hugging you as tight as he can.

you look down at him, sitting on the bed with a sad expression. you never knew how much megumi had actually cared for you. and it amazed you how good he was able to speak as a 4 year old.

"megumi,' you start off, watching as he looks up at you with teary eyes.

"i'll see if i could stay tonight, but just for tonight!" you tell him, his lips automatically curl into a big smile, before he kisses you on the cheeks. the same way his father does.

"yay! thanks y/n. now can we play, please?" he slips out of your embrace and begins pulling out toys from his drawer, handing you a big car which you take from his small hands.

"sure, megumi. if you want, ill take you to the park after?" you question and get on your knees, getting down to his level so you would be able to play properly.

he nods his head repeatedly, you wonder if his cheeks every get tired from smiling so much.

"yes! thank you y/n, you're the best!"

the day goes by fast, now you are sitting on megumi's bed, tucking him in before he goes to sleep.

"y-you're gonna stay tonight, right y/n?" the little boy questions, turning to look at you. the only source of light was the hallway lights, through the opened door.

you stay silent for a few seconds, giving him a hopeful smile that would make him feel better.

"i'll see, i still have to check in with your dad." you replied. deep down you knew you wouldn't stay over, especially when you knew it would be pretty weird to stay over at your bosses house, just for his kid over night.

you would just have to make up a lie by tomorrow, apologizing to the younger boy on why you couldn't stay over.

i'll say i had classes! yeah that is a good excuse. you thought to yourself.

"okay.. goodnight y/n." megumi utters, smiling before he closes his eyes and drifts off the sleep.

you stay in the same position, watching him peacefully drift off with his hand loosely around yours. after a few minutes, you knew you had to go home.

"bye megs.." you whisper, kissing his head before standing up from his bed, walking towards the outside of his bedroom.

you sighed and began walking down the hallway, towards the exit of the home.

“you’re not gonna stay the night?” a voice startles you, making your turn around with a hand over your heart.

“toji-san! w-when did you get home?” you nervously laughed, and breathed in heavily as he walked towards you.

your heart jumps to your throat as he looks down at you, the tension was high.

his hand reaches your shoulder, squeezing and rubbing over it seductively. a smirk appearing on his features, that stupid sexy smirk that makes your pussy heat up.

“don’t mind that darling. as i said, you’re not gonna stay the night? thought you wanted to be with megs?” the smirk turns into a small frown, making you rethink on why you were going to leave in the first place.

“‘m sorry.. i-i just didn’t think you would be comfortable with it.” you admitted, looking up at him with guilty eyes.

your hand clutches your tote bag, the both of you stay in silence before he speaks up. a kiss being left on your forehead, it drowns out the guilty feeling and lights up your features.

“it’s fine sweets. y’want to talk for a bit and have dinner together? i don’t mind you staying over, megumi has a strong liking for you.” he waits for a response.

it’s almost embarrassing to you how fast you nodded your head, yet toji chuckles at how dedicated you were towards the offer.

you did not go home that night, as expected. but what happened was something you never thought would happen at all.

you thought you would be in your own bedroom, but here you were. face flat onto toji’s pillows, and him behind you groping your body in many ways. his cock drilling inside your plush, tight pussy.

“you’re so beautiful, my love.” his words continue to make you cry, both ways. he flips you over so his hand would be able to wrap around your breast, and the other caressing your head as you take all of him inside of you.

“daddy— ‘s so good!” you cry out, mind getting foggy as you look at him with the most love and adoration expression he could ever make out. his heart melts.

he shuts you up with a kiss, tongues clashing together as his hands roam around your love handles, squeezing and slapping them.

you moan into the kiss, it’s muffled but he was able to hear it clearly. the sound was music to his ears, making him slam into you rougher and deeper, his cock abusing your g-spot.

you were just too beautiful, too pure for him. he couldn’t resist you. the day he met you in a coffee shop he knew he wanted you, and you would become his.

“shh, baby. can’t forget gumi is sleeping, hm?” he hums, pulling away from your pouty, swollen lips.

“sorry.. ‘jus feels too good. love your cock s’ much tojii.” you moan once again. your hand interlaces with his bigger hands, pinning you down on his large bed.

“i know, sweet girl. you almost needa cum?” he coo’s into your ear, large, muscular hand going down onto your stomach. your womb filled with toji’s hot seed.

you whine, nodding repeatedly and look up at him with desperate eyes. sobs leave your mouth, the bubbly feeling in your stomach begging to be released.

“please! need t’ cum, lemme cum daddy.. please!” you beg over and over, it’s adorable to him. the way you’re so desperate for him, and his cock. even if it’s bullying your insides.

arousal floods into your insides, the way toji lowly groans on top of you makes you see the stars.

“cum with me, my dear.” he moans out, hands gripping at your waist as he continues to slams you down on his veiny, hard, big cock.

just like that, you realease all over him. you hadn’t even notice you squirted. the feeling of toji filling you to the brim once again made your eyes foggy, filled with tears. thankfully toji was there to wipe away any tears left.

hot cum continues to spurt into your pussy, the feeling of your walls clenching over his cock so well makes toji’s feelings for you grow stronger.

“my beautiful, princess.” he whispers through heavy breathes. your heart beating even faster as his hands cup your jaw, pulling you into another heated kiss.

“starting now, you’re mine. my little girl.”

[shotmrmiller]

There's a post going around abt price lying about his sex life and why do I think Simon would be the same way? He's like nah mate I don't fuck but goes home to reader every time to make sure that mattress still has an impression of reader

that's funny because i think price would fucking boast. you know those 'we trying for a baby' 'why tf do i wanna know you getting stuffed full of cum' memes? that's him.

oh he's letting everyone and their mom fucking know that he's going in with only the gun he keeps by his bedside as protection cuz babyyyy-

and do not asking him what positions to have some sort of cheeky gotcha moment he will spill any and all beans. he doesn't care. proud of it. he's got a heavy sac and a full heart and ain't ashamed in the least.

simon is the one that lies. yeah, he could have tons of one nighters. used to, too. the boys know him well enough that if he up and leaves in the middle of a 141 night out, he's gotten in someone's pants. and he still does that. doesn't say a word after finishing that swill soap calls beer and just-

leaves. blends into the shadows and disappears. soap tends to give some crass whistle too like don't do anything i wouldn't do but he's just running to go home to you cuz he:

misses you

needs to be inside you

also tired, social battery is empty

he doesn't tell even price anything. it makes him feel a bit bad, almost. (keyword almost. you're the upmost priority and if john is the man simon knows him to be, he'd understand)

he trusts him to always have his six no matter what and here simon is, hoarding you like a dragon does his treasure but he just can't risk anyone knowing of you. will not come home to an empty, bloodied home like he did last time.

all it takes is one slip of the tongue. one word to fall onto listening ears for you to get taken and killed, if not worse. he's made one too many enemies. he knows he's dangerous. knows his life's dangerous. but he gives up so much for his country so the least anyone can let him have all for himself is you.

and no photos taken :) except for the ones he lets you take of yall on polaroid.

[sheep-from-rad]

How Solomon is fairing (Obey me Nightbringer)

Note: It's been a while since I wrote something Obey me related. The new game got me in a chokehold and then at the same time Starrail got released! I guess I'll genshin later.

Warnings: None

Masterlist: [Obey me]

Everyone is talking about how the brothers feel about your sudden disappearance but what about how Solomon feels? 

Solomon who…

                is torn between waiting for at Cocytus hall and wanting to pick you up from the House of Lamentation. Eventually he'll just go out after you go attend your duties, visit Simeon, and hope that he runs to you after the day.

Solomon who…

               knows that you're capable and powerful enough but can't help but worry because you were both at a disadvantage.

Solomon who…

               misses the warmth of Purgatory Hall and tries his hardest for Cocytus hall to feel the same. Sure he sees Simeon and Luke whenever he visits HOL but can't help but feel the invisible barriers that sets him apart from the two. He can't help but miss playing games with Luke and miss Simeon's nagging when he doesn't come down or when he misses his meals. 

Solomon who…

               misses the brothers from the original timeline. From time to time they get into fights but unlike this timeline where the two of you are thrown in, he can't help but also walk on eggshells given that they are not the same brothers before. He won't admit it but he also misses Diavolo, Barbatos, and the rest of the new exchange students. 

Solomon who…

               wonders if Thirteen already noticed that you and his presence are missing in the timeline. Maybe if she notices it and then she will be able to help the two of you to go home. 

Solomon who…

               tells you to be careful but always risks his immortal life to make new connections, gather information, and make backup plans in case you two suddenly need to run.

Solomon who…

               has healing magic always active on his non dominant hand and combative magic on the other in case some entity suddenly appears.

Solomon who…

               already made a routine of getting up at night to check on you in case you have nightmares. He knew that the comfort of the House of Lamentation is different from the new environment that is Cocytus Hall. The new home is not secured as the Purgatory Hall from the original timeline. It doesn't have the spells he carved around the house to make him sleep easy at night. 

Solomon who…

               burns most of his grimm on take outs because he knows his cooking is not the best and he doesn't want you slaving on a stove after a long day of working as an attendant.

Solomon who…

               knows that once the two of you come back to the original timeline, will be the one to blame for the shenanigans because of his shady deals.

Solomon who…

               wishes that he can just approach Barbatos about the time anomaly and the situation the two of you are in but can't because doing so will make a paradox that might end up harming you and the others.

Solomon who…

               knows that his intentions on helping and protecting are pure but can't help but despises himself because he thinks that he's using the situation as a leverage to be closer to your heart.

[larluce]

Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3

The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.

Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.

He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.

Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...

Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere

Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.

Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-

Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.

Arthur: ...

Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.

Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.

It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.

However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.

There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.

It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.

No, he won't allow that to happen.

Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?

Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.

Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?

Arthur: ...

Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.

Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.

Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.

Arthur: Anything.

Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.

Arthur: But-

Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.

They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.

Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.

The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.

Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.

Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)

Druid2: Three dragon scales.

Percival: (gives them to her)

Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.

Leon: Will this really work?

Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.

Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.

It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.

....

HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.

I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.

What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

the big three and their mantras

grover i'll-be-here-when-you-get-back underwood

percy it's-okay-we're-okay jackson

annabeth you-can-do-this chase

something about fate taking the boy who has spent most of his life battling the lurking feeling that the people closest to him want to get rid of him, and giving him the most loyal and reassuring best friend who always tells him "I'll be here when you get back" giving him assurance that he's not going anywhere, especially not going anywhere from him.

something about fate making soulmates out of a girl who could only depend on herself from a very young age, who also had the responsibility of her brothers' and sisters' safety to think about, and a boy who takes care of her even at the risk of his own life, with the reassurance, that no one else has ever thought to offer "it's okay".

something about fate forcing together a boy who has been labelled a troubled kid, stupid, a failure, screw-up and a reject by almost every other person in his life, and a girl who never lets him doubt himself, his mind or his abilities, who constantly tells him "you can do this" with no misgivings about his greatness even when he doesn't see it.

something about fate connecting the souls of the boy who has never felt good enough, who has internalized guilt from an outcome he had little control over and carries it with him everywhere he goes, giving him feelings of worthlessness, and a boy who has never believed that faults or mistakes make you any less worthy of love or friendship, who has never hesitated to assure him that "it's okay, we're okay".

something about fate making lifelong ride-or-dies out of a girl who has been abandoned by everyone who should have protected her and a boy who always encourages her to go out into the world and make a difference with the constant reassurance "I'll be here when you get back".

something about fate linking a boy who always assumes that if something has gone wrong, it's his fault, who has zero confidence in himself not to ruin everything but still shoulders the weight of responsibility, and a girl who doesn't waver in her confidence in him, even when she's seen him fail and make mistakes she always tells him "you can do this" she knows he just needs a little faith.

[petertingle-yipyip]

I WISH I HATED YOU - BELLAMY BLAKE

//is this probably a hot mess and ooc? yes. but it’s also self indulgent so just enjoy new content okay 🤷‍♀️//

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader

Word Count: 1,617

Summary: After being arrested for speaking out, you get a chance to tell Bellamy basically everything on your mind.

After Bellamy and Clarke got everyone out of Mount Weather, you had stayed close with him. You went on runs with him, trained with him, and even helped him through the guilt of pulling the lever. You talked him through losing Gina.

Or at least you had thought you helped with it all.

When you saw him walk through the gates with Pike’s firing squad, your heart sank. You had just let yourself believe you cared about him, maybe even loved him. You sat by and watched him with Gina because him being happy seemed to be more important to you. And yet, there he was, covered in blood from an army that was supposed to protect your people.

Pike was in the middle of his speech about doing what needed to be done when you met Bellamy’s eyes.

Something in that look compelled you to speak up. You knew he wasn’t asking it of you but you felt you had to.

“We execute our own now?” You shouted, part of you hoping your voice would be buried in the crowd. But judging by the new expression Bellamy wore, you were heard loud and clear.

“What kind of Chancellor doesn’t let his people speak up?” You continued and a small group cleared out around you and you felt an imaginary spotlight on you. “I remember learning there used to be a right to free speech in the States.”

“There’s a difference between speaking your opinion and pushing propaganda, Y/N.” Pike answered and you didn’t miss the condescension in his words.

“What do you call what you’re doing?”

“Y/N.” Bellamy warned.

You hadn’t noticed he had gotten to your side.

“No.” You said firmly. “Trikru has become our allies.”

“Your ‘allies’ abandoned you in that mountain! They left you to die!”

“You’re no better!” You shouted. “You’re willing to kill us if we don’t agree with you! You just threatened all of us!”

A hand gripped your arm.

“None of you are in any danger from your own people.” He said with a disbelieving laugh. You took an angry step forward but were pulled back by the hand at your arm that you hadn’t connected to a person yet. “I am going to keep all of you safe.”

“You’re a murderer.” You said confidently. “You’ve turned the people who went with you out there-“ You looked towards the gate and realized it was Bellamy who had your arm. You didn’t look away from him. “-into murderers.”

“Don’t do this.” Bellamy said quietly, desperately almost.

“If you’re gonna do this…” You nodded towards your restricted limb. “I have to do this.”

You turned back to face Pike.

“Lincoln risked his life to help us at Mount Weather. Indra has fought by our side. The Commander has gone out of her way to welcome us into her coalition, to offer protection from the clans that hate us! Now-“ You tried to gesture but Bellamy kept your arm down. “Dammit, Blake.” You grumbled. “Now every clan wants us dead!”

“All the more reason for us to fight back!” Pike yelled.

“We wouldn’t need to fight if you hadn’t-“

“Enough!” Pike interrupted and you heard a small eruption of mumbles from the crowd. It seemed to you like some opinions were shifting. “Take her away.”

Bellamy pulled you slightly and grabbed your other arm. He locked both wrists in cuffs behind your back and led you to the detainment. You kept your head up, saying nothing as Bellamy practically dragged you down several hallways.

There were no guards posted so Bellamy released your cuffs when you were within the alleged cell but didn’t leave. He stood in the doorway instead while you sat on the lone bench. The set of his jaw, heavy sigh that moved his shoulders, and cross of his arms told you all you needed.

“You want to say something.” You spoke plainly. Any edge in your voice from before had softened.

Everything in you softened around Bellamy, even if he didn’t seem too much like your Bellamy anymore. If he ever was yours to begin with.

“Just say it, Bellamy.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes. “I’m sure Pike doesn’t want you gone too long.”

“You think I’m doing the wrong thing.” He said lowly, as if he was still connecting the dots in his head. “You out me in this position today, Y/N. No one told you to start telling about treason and executions.”

“You and I both know that’s what he meant. Grounder or Arkadian, opposition goes down. Seemed pretty clear to me.”

“Pike wouldn’t kill his own people. What he’s willing to do, what I’m willing to do, is to protect our people.”

“By the way, I think Pike is wrong.” You corrected. “You… You’re lost right now. You’re trying to right what’s gone wrong but that won’t go away with more blood and bullets.”

“So we’re just supposed to let them continue to kill us?”

“It’s been months and it hasn’t been Trikru killing us if any have died… Azgeda hates us and that’s not gonna change but Trikru is Indra. It’s Lincoln. It’s Octa-“

“It is not Octavia.” He cut in firmly.

Your hands went in surrender and you didn’t push on that.

“Bellamy.” You stood and carefully moved closer to him. You made sure to keep your eyes on his and not on the Grounder blood splattered across his bulletproof. “I.. care about you, you know that. But what Pike’s doing, what you’ve done, has put all of us at risk. It’s an act of war. At the very least, tell me you understand that. If it was the other way around-”

“We’ve been at war since we got here. They picked us off, one by one, in the woods around the dropship. Remember that? Or how they put a spear through Jasper’s chest? Used Murphy to infect our camp? Stabbed Finn with a poisoned blade or, even better, when they executed Finn?”

“Yes, okay?” You abated quickly. “Yeah, you’re right. They’ve beat the shit out of us. But Finn also slaughtered a village with an automatic rifle. We blew up a bridge that led to however many deaths. We burnt an army a couple hundred strong to ash. But we’ve also made allies and had a chance at peace with the Commander.”

“The Commander that left us at Mount Weather, you mean? Who forced us to have to kill the purple who helped us? Who trusted me?”

“God, Bell, y’know what? I wish I hated you for what you’re doing. I- I wish it wasn’t true, what you were doing. I wish you treated me terribly and I wish I could treat you the same. Do you know how much easier it’d be if I could hate you? Especially after the massacre out there.”

“What?” His brows furrowed.

“But I don’t.” You shook your head. “Not yet. Jesus, maybe not ever. And that makes me feel so guilty. To want to hate you and to admit that I probably won’t. You could shoot me and I still would find a way to forgive you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We may have been fighting since we landed. I can admit that.” You continued ranting.

“Y/N, I-“

“No, you’re going to listen to me!”

He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and closed his mouth.

“That doesn’t mean we need to keep taking things further… You don’t have to like the Grounders, Bellamy. I don’t even think they’re all great, but the coalition was a chance at peace. It could finally end the war. You and me, we could…”

“You and me?” His eyes softened. “What do you…”

You laughed to yourself. “I thought it’d been obvious by now.” You shrugged. “Look, that’s not important right now. What is important is that you don’t go down a path you can’t come back from. I know you want to do what’s right and I know you want to protect us. I love you for that, but goddammit, I can’t lose you.“

“I’m trying to protect you.” He said, putting a hand on your cheek. “It’s always been about you… Well, you and Octavia.”

Despite yourself, you smiled and it brought a quick flash of a smile from him.

“You have such a good heart.” You said honestly, a much softer tone than just moments before. “Pike doesn’t get to take that from you if you don’t let him.”

“Y/N…” His hand moved and took hold of yours.

“You mean a lot to me. None of this has been easy on or for any of us. I know I’ve hardly slept a full night since we landed. And I know you think you have our best interests at heart, but I can promise you that Pike doesn’t have yours.”

“Do you?”

“I do… Since I met you.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay, I’ll…”

“Let me outta here?” You tried with an innocent smile.

He laughed slightly and raised his brows.

“Maybe we can continue this conversation in one of our rooms… With a little more privacy.”

“I’ll hear you.” He corrected and you pouted slightly. “You’re gonna have to stay here for the day but I’ll talk to Pike, have you out by dinner.”

“Okay.” You nodded and stepped back.

Bellamy’s hand hit your hip and pulled you back to him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say something for a while.” He said with a smirk.

“Really?” You returned the playful tone. “How long is a while?”

His head tilted back and forth as he pretended to think.

“Since we met on the Ark.”

[robin-evry]

Can you do aventurine!yuu?

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 🎰♠️

A senior manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department and one of the Ten Stonehearts. His Cornerstone is the "Aventurine of Stratagems." He possesses an air of frivolity and doesn't shy away from taking risks. His constant smile makes it difficult for people to discern his true feelings.

The ultimate gambler in NRC. Is very popular due to them winning every single game they bet.

They turn the ramshackle dorm into a gambling room without the teachers knowing. Many students work under them in exchange for money It has become a very popular area for the students. By doing this they manage to get some connections with many powerful students or students who have connections for information.

Everyone is at the bottom gambling while aventurine!yuu stands on top overlooking everything. With grim by their side wearing the same hat as them

Many students have been trying to expose them but every time they try aventurine!yuu will always be two steps ahead of them and manage to get away with it or the teachers and staff simply ignore it.

Azul once tried to black mail them into a contract or tried to expose them but every time aventurine!yuu will always outsmart them. They are his biggest enemy He is always unable to read their motives and is unable to beat them it will drive him insane.

And if a student misbehaves or threatens violence a pile of large gold coins will fall on them and injure them in the process. ( Similar towards aventurine skill in the game )

They are one of the top of the class as well the sugar parents of all the first years and grim anything they ask aventurine!yuu will buy it for them

Even under that mischievous smile, Aventurine!yuu is always on their guard or high alert. They are back from square one similar to their past. They never close to their hearts, they close it afraid of losing these people.

They use make up or foundation to cover up their marks on their neck or by wearing outfits with color or a turtle neck sweater to cover up their marks to not tell people about their past.

Very rich, so rich to not care. By asking a question about an assignment to a student they will be Given jewelry and gold by them like it was nothing. Ruggie will tend to follow them to see if they need any help so they could pay him in jewelry by doing this he manages to sell the stuff they gave him and have his family a better life.

Miraculous luck, for some reason luck seems to follow them wherever they go and even affects people, they always get good grades, once a potted plant falls from the second and aventurine! Yuu was standing underneath it and the potted plant suddenly changed direction and missed them.

The first years will start calling them their lucky charm due to this strange phenomena.

Aventurine usually wear a pair of glasses to cover their unique eye color to make sure no one knows about their true origin. As well they tend to wear high end stuff like they wear a watch that is very expensive and designer clothing as well as their uniform having form modification.

Has a talent for dancing and singing, they are very talented to the point during VDC, vil approach them asking to participate in it but they refused.

Many students are very wary of him and will start bad rumors about them but every time the first years will protect them against this rumors

Has a crowd of students under their order, will get paid handsomely by them and ruggie starts to work for them for a half time and they more than mostro lounge. These students will work as their ears and eyes in NRC.

[therealcocoshady]

Lilly and Marshall go out in a public setting and paparazzi start taking lots of pictures and this has never happened to Lilly before so she’s flipping out and Marshall goes into protective dad mode

Author’s Note : thank you for your request ❤️. I always have fun writing about Marshall & Lily ✨. Here is the fic, I hope you enjoy it !

Protective DILF

Being pregnant with twins wasn’t going to be easy, especially when it’s a « geriatric pregnancy ». That’s what the doctors explained when they told Y/N and Marshall that they were expecting not one, but two babies. And as the pregnancy progressed, it turned out to be true : it was exhausting carrying twins and dealing with the symptoms. Marshall’s wife was told to rest as much as possible, even though it was definitely easier said than done with Lily, who was demanding a lot of attention. They’d been told it was normal, but ever since she learned that she was going to be a big sister, she tended to be less independent, seeking her parents’ help and attention for most things. Thankfully, Marshall kept true to his word to be there for every step of the pregnancy and he was as present as necessary for everyone. Since Y/N was put on bedrest, he was the one dealing with taking Lily to school, picking her, taking her to her various activities, as well as managing the entire household. Thank God Lily was an easy child with a good temper, because he had a lot on his plate. And he definitely didn’t need the drama that was about to take place.

Lily had been pestering him about going to Chuck E. Cheese. It was one of her favorite places and, usually, Y/N went with her, but she didn’t have the energy. Plus, their little one was really into the trampoline section and it was definitely not ideal for an expecting mother. So it now fell upon him and it did take some convincing from his wife and older daughters but he ended up taking her. At first, he considered paying to have the place closed and avoid attention, but Y/N reminded him that the purpose of such a place was for their little girl to socialize with other children. He ended up reviewing logistics with his security team, picking a day of the week where the place would not be busy and agreeing that two guards would be waiting in a car outside, ready to intervene at any moment should anyone discover that he was there. Y/N questioned the need for security altogether but he insisted. Call it a gut feeling, parental instinct or straight up paranoia, but he felt more at ease having security around. He usually didn’t bother being escorted when it came to everyday life, but it wasn’t the usual errands in their neighborhood where everyone knew them, so it actually made sense to him. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care, but he wouldn’t take any risk regarding Lily.

His baby girl had a blast at Chuck E. Cheese, jumping around and playing games. He was happy to see her all giddy and smiling, cherishing the last moments with her as the baby of the household. Him and Y/N would never neglect her for the benefit of the babies, but he knew they would have their hands full and that moments like these would be more rare. Lily was jumping on the trampoline with a few other kids while he was sipping on some Diet Coke, texting Y/N that everything was going great when a Mom came to him.

- Hi, she said with a bright smile. Is the little girl over there yours ?

- Hi, he replied, looking up from his phone. Yeah, actually. Did something happen ? Did she fall ?

- No, relax, she said with a laugh. She’s actually super cute. She’s playing with my son over there.

- Oh, ok, he said.

- I’m Sandy, she said as she extended her hand. Marshall, is it ?

- Indeed, he said politely.

- It’s so nice to meet you, she continued. I’ve been a fan for years. Mind if I take a selfie of us ?

She already had her phone in hand, ready to take the damn selfie before he could even refuse. She was nice and rather polite and, usually, he would oblige, but he was in a Chuck E. Cheese, with his daughter nearby and now was definitely not the time to take selfies with fans, regardless of how nice they were. He immediately stopped her with a move of his hand.

- I appreciate it, Sandy, but I’d rather not take selfies now, he said as he tried to keep his composure. It’s a family place, I’m with my kid, I’m sure you understand.

- Right, she said. Sorry. I didn’t know you had a younger one. Or that you’re married…

She was looking intently at his wedding band. When he made public appearances, he made sure to take it off (in fact, his team had an explicit order to remind him) but, other than that, he wore it all the time. He immediately put his hand in his pocket.

- Well… Privacy, he simply said. That has nothing to do with hip-hop, you know ?

- Your wife is lucky, she said with a seductive grin. It’s a shame that…

- DADDY ! Lily called him, saving him from the interaction that was growing unpleasant.

- Excuse me, he said politely.

He immediately walked over to his little one, thankful that she called him when she did. She wanted to go to the tube and tunnels area with him and he happily obliged. He focused his undivided attention on Lily and soon forget about Sandy. So much so that he didn’t notice her snapping a picture of him, waiting for Lily to go down the slide. About thirty minutes later, one member of his security team came to see him.

- Mr Mathers ?

- Yeah, John ? He asked. What are you doing inside ? What’s wrong ?

- There’s an… issue, the guard said. Someone tipped off the media, there’s about ten reporters out front. We need to leave.

- Fuck, Marshall sighed. Alright. Lily, come here baby, we’re going home.

- No, Daddy, I want to stay here a little longer, the little one said with pleading eyes. We’re having fun.

- I know bug, but we’ve been here for a while now, he said. Time to go.

He tried not to communicate his anxiety to his daughter. He could see the place’s staff at the entrance, no doubt talking about the reporters. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene. He just wanted to avoid Lily’s picture being taken.

- What do we do ? He asked the guard.

- I took the liberty to call for a couple more colleagues, just in case, John explained. They’ll be here in ten minutes. Once they arrive, I’ll walk you to the car. I think we should ask the manager if we can use the back exit.

- Good, Marshall said. Lily, put on your shoes, ok ?

- What’s wrong, Daddy ? She asked, sensing that he was nervous.

- There’s a couple of reporters outside, he calmly explained. Remember when I told you about people possibly bugging us ? We’re going to go to the car in a few minutes, and I’m going to need you to listen to me, baby. You do as I say, alright ?

His daughter nodded, nervously glancing at the door. There was a crowd, starting to gather, causing panic among the staff, and it was starting to be noisy. He took off his hoodie and his hat and put them on her. He wanted to hide her face as much as possible.

- I can’t see, Daddy, she complained.

- Just keep these on until we’re in the car, baby, he directed.

When John told him they could go, he carried Lily and they attempted to take the emergency exit, though some reporters were there as well. They retreated inside, the situation starting to get on his nerves. John offered to take Lily with him while Marshall walked to the car with another guard but the little one protested. The noise was starting to freak her out and, as soon as Marshall tried to hand her to John, she started crying.

- Daddy, no, come back ! She almost screamed.

- Baby, it’s just for two minutes, I’ll meet you in the car, he said as reassuringly as he could.

- Don’t leave, she cried. Daddy !

She was starting to sniffle and panic and he knew he couldn’t leave her like this. He held her close and tried to soothe her, tracing circles on her back.

- I’m scared, she whispered.

- I know, he said. It’s scary. But I’m taking care of it, ok ?

His team brought the car as close as they could to the exit and he sent one of them to ask the press not to swarm them. They seemed to reach an agreement, saying they just wanted pictures of him and that they would leave his child alone. He hated the idea of being photographed anyway, but this seemed like a decent deal : at least, Lily’s face wouldn’t be out there. He would allow them to take a pic of him once Lily was in the car. They finally managed to step outside as he was holding Lily who was hidden in his hat and hoodie, face buried in his neck. The reporters were asking questions about her, who she was, if he had her with Kim, but at least, they didn’t snap any pictures. He stayed silent, though, refusing to comment. He was strapping Lily in her carseat when he heard a flash. He immediately slammed the car door shut and turned, only to see a paparazzi holding a lens way too close. He instantly grabbed the camera and dropped it on the ground. The man protested, complaining about the price of his equipment but he couldn’t care less.

- I hope you have good dental insurance, Marshall warned.

- You’re not hitting me, the man taunted. We already have pics of your kid, we’ll publish them anyw-

- LEAK ONE PIC OF HER AND I’LL FUCKING DESTROY YOU, he threatened as he grabbed him by the collar. NOW YOU LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE !

The conflict started to escalade and his bodyguards had to intervene, to protect both him and the paparazzi. He was ready to throw some fists and almost forgot that Lily was able to see the whole scene from the car. John talked some sense into him and he got in the backseat, sitting next to his freaked out daughter, letting his security drive. He helped her take his hat off, examining her tear-stained face.

- It’s alright, babygirl, he said softly. We’re safe.

- You scared me, Daddy ! She said. You screamed real, real loud.

- I know, baby, I’m sorry, he said apologetically. But I’m not letting anyone taking your picture. Because I don’t want anyone bugging you.

She nodded and he held her hand for the rest of the drive, trying to manage his own anger. If Lily had not been with him, he probably would have made a u-turn and broken a few noses. Thankfully, his team was handling everything. When they got home, he let Lily watch some TV while he went to find Y/N, who was resting in their bedroom. He wasn’t too sure how to break the news to her that, nearly four years after he adopted Lily, the press knew he had another kid. However, it seemed like he didn’t need to. She was looking at him with an annoyed look on her face.

- You already know ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. News travels fast…

- I have nothing better to do than scroll on my phone all day, she sighed. Of course I know. How is Lily ?

- Scared but ok, I guess, he said. Managed to calm her down in the car. She’s watching TV now.

- Ok, she said with a reassured expression. And you ?

He didn’t reply, simply shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure how he was feeling. Pissed off, for sure, but also nervous and disappointed. He wasn’t quite sure how much the pictures showed, and where to go from here. How would the public react to him being married, having a secret kid and two more on the way ? Paul would probably advise him to put out a statement so he should think of what to say… he would have wanted to keep his family life a secret longer. The last four years with Y/N and Lily by his side had been so enjoyable and he wanted nothing more but to shield them from his fame. And the thought of the public knowing about his unborn babies made him terrified of the potential attention they would get, too. Honestly, the thought of living his little family to another country didn’t seem so bad. He sighed and sat next to her on the bed, before eventually laying his head on her lap. Y/N gently ran her fingers in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and he closed his eyes for a minute.

- I’m sorry, he muttered.

- Whatever for ? She asked. You’re not the one who tipped the media…

- I failed to protect you guys, he sighed. I failed to protect Lily… you should have seen her, babe… you should have seen them. Hovering like vultures, screaming, scaring her.

- We always knew it might happen, she said. I’m gutted, don’t get me wrong, but we managed to protect her for five years. Married four without people knowing. In hindsight, it’s a miracle people didn’t find out sooner.

- I guess, he shrugged. Still, I’m mad at myself… I scared Lily.

- What did you do ?! She asked, suddenly alarmed.

- I… lost it with a guy, he explained. He tried to take a pic of Lily ! I grabbed him and gave him a piece of my mind.

- So you basically assaulted a man in front of our daughter ?! Y/N asked, starting to get worked up.

- Look, I’m not proud of myself, he groaned. But I wasn’t about to let him get away with that. I simply grabbed him, I didn’t break his nose. No matter how badly he would have deserved it…

- Marshall…, she scolded.

- I know, he simply said. It fucking sucks. I just wanted Lily to have a good time. Now, I’m going to have to call Paul and my publicist… fuck.

- I’m sorry, my love, Y/N said as she kept on stroking his head.

They stayed like this for a moment, enjoying each other’s comforting presence, and Y/N finally went downstairs to check on Lily. She was fine, though she did mention the whole thing was scary. Marshall stayed upstairs for a moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to pace himself before calling Paul back. His manager had tried to reach him ten times in the past hour, leaving various voice messages, urging him to call back. There were good and bad news. The good news was that Lily’s face didn’t appear anywhere, concealed thanks to Marshall’s hoodie and hat. The only thing the media saw of her were her jeans and sneakers. The bad news, however, was that the whole thing had been filmed and that images of an angry Marshall smashing the reporter’s camera were being shared on social media at the speed of light. The response was overall positive and people tended to support him instead of the reporter, who was clearly at fault. However, there was a lot of speculation and even people who claimed to have insider information, making false allegations. They had no choice but to put out a statement. They had a conference call with their publicist, who suggested only giving the necessary information. After quickly consulting with Y/N, he decided not to give any details on Lily, not giving away her name nor her age, as well as avoiding mentioning the pregnancy. The statement would only acknowledge the day’s events, as well as confirm that Lily was, indeed, his daughter and that he was married. To him, that was enough.

« As the result of the publication on social media of a picture taken without consent, today’s events have caused a lot of speculation regarding Mr Mathers’(professionally known as Eminem) family life. Mr Mathers expresses his regret for how the situation unfolded, the altercation with the press having caused distress not only for him but also for the other people present at the location. Mr and Mrs Mathers formally oppose the publication of any media depicting their child and ask for the respect of the privacy of their family life. They also express their intention to sue any individual trying to sell pictures of their daughter, as well as any media outlet who might publish them. »

In the evening, a couple of hours later, the internet was in a frenzy over the whole thing and the confirmation that Marshall was, indeed, married and had a younger daughter. A lot of people were also swooning over the pictures of him holding Lily, obsessing over his strong arms and stern look.

- The internet seems to be obsessing over you again, Y/N mentioned while he was preparing dinner.

- Well I’d rather have them forget all about me, he groaned. I swear, I’m going to retire, just to get some peace. Or move us to the edge of the earth…

- It’s not so bad, she commented. They appreciate how protective you are. Also, calling you the ultimate DILF. I don’t disagree…

- DILF, huh ? He asked with a sudden smirk.

- Look who’s suddenly in a good mood, she grinned.

- I like that you agree with them, he said with a smile. Maybe you could show me how much, later ?

- Gladly, she said as she pecked him on the cheek.

He turned his face and kissed her lovingly. They were interrupted by Lily.

- Mommy what’s that word ? She asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What word, baby ? Y/N asked.

- The one you said. DILF.

- Oh… hum… it’s a word people use when a Dad is very attractive, Y/N explained as she tried to contain her laughter. Like, when they want to talk to him and flirt…

- Like with Daddy and the lady today ? Lily asked innocently.

- Yes, like Daddy and- wait what ? What lady ?

Marshall said nothing and focused on the vegetables he was chopping for dinner, conveniently ignoring the conversation.

- There was a lady who talked to Daddy today at Chuck E. Cheese, Lily explained. She was smiling a lot.

- Interesting, Y/N said with a raised eyebrow. Looks like someone doesn’t need my appreciation…

- Come on, babe. It happens, Marshall hummed.

- Does it, now ?

- All the time, Lily said. All the mommies at my school-

- Lily, baby, how about you go and watch some cartoons before dinner, mmh ? Marshall suggested to cut the conversation short.

- Ok, the little one said with a shrug.

Y/N was leaning against the kitchen island, visibly upset and pouting. He sighed and went to hug her but she turned her head.

- Thought you agreed with the DILF thing ? He asked with a smile.

- They’re allowed to think it, not to act on it…, she groaned.

- No one’s doing anything, he chuckled. Just a couple of smiling, very friendly ladies. What’s up ? You’re usually not as upset when it comes to groupies or fans…

- I know, she said. But this is real life. Now that you’re the one going places with Lily and taking her to school… I hate thinking about all of them making eyes at you. Especially while I’m bored, at home, getting fat.

- You’re not getting fat, he chuckled. I mean, you are, you’re huge, but-

- MARSHALL !!!

- It’s because you’re growing two beautiful babies, he continued. Our babies. No one holds a candle to you. I might be a DILF but you’re the ultimate MILF.

- You think ? She asked with a pout.

- No one ever made pregnancy look so hot, he said lovingly. If you weren’t supposed to rest so much, I would gladly show my appreciation all day, everyday…

- I love you, she chuckled. But im glad that everyone knows we’re married, though.

- Territorial much, Mrs Mathers ? He asked.

- Yes, she giggled. Very.

- I like it, he chuckled.

- You have to protect what’s yours, right ?

- Right. And believe me, I’m going to do everything I can to protect what’s mine, he replied as he put a hand on her round belly.

She cooed and placed a hand over his, when they felt a little kick. They immediately looked at each other and smiled. It was the first time they felt one of the babies move. Y/N’s eyes immediately filled with happy tears and Marshall kneeled to place a kiss on his wife’s stomach.

- That’s right, guys, he said with an emotional smile. I’m always going to protect you.