#i just am observing and speaking to a wall

[windvexer]

But considering then that maybe one should learn a form of banishing, just in case, but doesn't relate to the golden down practices, what could be a practice of banishing that is more connected to witchcraft ?

We are in reference to this ask about whether or not the LBRP is required learning for all sorcerers & practitioners (it is not).

Someone asked me for my opinions and I'm giving them! Please understand this to be a post full of my personal opinions and methods.

I think a fine way to regard any practical sorcery is to consider it to be a mundane action extended into the spirit world.

Therefore the best way for a witch to deal with banishment is to ask what you if you were in a nice Studio Ghibli anime where magic is tangible. If a rambunctious pig spirit were tearing through your house, knocking over furniture, what would you do?

Banish for your needs based on what you have. Any banishment spell is better than no banishment spell. Here are a few for the intrepid witch:

Ask It To Leave

This is a good starting operation, especially if you have ethical concerns. Especially helpful for troublesome household spirits and energies.

Go to where It is. If that is not possible, create a sympathetic image (drawing, sigil, poppet, etc.; then correctly consecrated*).

Speak to the image and tell it firmly and sternly to leave. Do not ask, do not show your belly. "You have got to stop coming to morning meetings, Greg. You have better things to do and you are not helping. I am sick and tired of hearing you before lunch, Greg. Stop doing it."

Open the Door and Smack It With a Broom

Another good starting operation, but you must have access to the location; best reserved for spirits or intruders.

Open all the doors and windows you can. Speak a prayer over the broom, vacuum, or mop; invite it to cast off its lampshade and glow with the vigor of four hundred generations of exasperated grandmothers.

Sweep out the house, all the while staying intent on the idea that the intruder is going to be chased out.

Close doors and windows after, as desired.

(Modifications on the above: blessed water in a spray bottle, rolled up newspaper swatting the air, and so forth; the studious witch will observe that if a place is consecrated to be other than what it is, things on other strands of fate can be swept away.)

Cast Dispel Magic (wizard 3 abjuration)

A fine early step, but it draws a line in the sand. It's more like a temporary ward, but it'll do in a pinch. It's also energy intensive, but requires no materials.

Using energy work, root yourself down into the earth. Call up a great deal of power from the earth into your body.

Coalesce a ball of power in your abdomen (or wherever suits you best; you must already know how to work energy in this matter to use this method).

In your preferred method, program the energy to be immensely banishing; envisioning ultraviolet flame can work well.

Expand the ball of energy outwards from your center so that it grows and eclipses the space around you, sending the unwanted thing out and away.

If possible, then work the far boundary of the energy sphere to become like a wall that can't be crossed over again.

Call the Magistrate

Not so harsh, but certainly drawing a line in the sand. This can be performed not only on spirits or intruders, but also on situations (to banish unfair treatment, etc), on people, and so forth.

Take one or three dried Bay Laurel leaves, or the equivalent crumbled. Say, think, or sign, "Bay Laurel, I call you here today to assist with removing an unwanted force."

Read over them the Orphic Hymn to the Sun, all the while envisioning that the leaves begin to glow with an immensely bright light, as if you're staring at the sun.

At the completion of the hymn, politely address the leaves and explain to them exactly what you would like chased away. Ensure you clarify if this thing may come back later, or never at all, and how far away from you it should go.

When you've said you part, seal the spell (classically, "as my will, so mote it be").

Use charcoal disks or your preferred method to burn the leaves. This should be done as close as possible to the thing intended to be banished. If burning is not an option, put them in some tap water and boil it on the stove until the scent diffuses.

(To further energize: read the hymn between three and nine times, each time following up with fervent prayers)

Call the Mob

Harsh. For use when you do not want to be polite. Can be directed at anything, but be sure there is no concern of behavior escalating; this is an aggravating spell.

Take one or three dried red peppers, or a teaspoon of red pepper flakes. Say, think, or sign, "Red Peppers, I call you here today to assist with removing an unwanted force."

Read over them the Orphic Hymn to Mars, all the while envisioning that the peppers ignite into a black and scarlet flame that's like hellfire.

At the completion of the hymn, rambunctiously address the peppers and explain to them exactly what you'd like chased away. Encourage the peppers to chase after the thing like the baying hounds of hell, to chase it to the ends of the earth, and past the earth, and so far away that the thing cannot be returned.

When you've said you part, seal the spell (classically, "as my will, so mote it be").

You should not burn the peppers at all unless you can do so outside, because breathing in pepper smoke is Bad. But fire greatly improves this operation. If possible, arrange the peppers around a candle and burn the candle to activate the spell. Otherwise, use the simmer pot method.

---

*Consecrated: In this context, to assign a new magical identity, purpose, and fate. This may be done organically during its creation, or all at once with a ritual. A poppet shouldn't be used in sympathetic magic until it has been magically given the true identity of the thing you want it to represent.

[flyingspicerack]

its amazing to see how the fandom has evolved, even while not being here in the before times

more often than not its ALWAYS a choro sweep around here when back in the day (ive been told) it was always kara and ichi?

i havent seen an ichi sweep ... ever? unless it was the ichipeen mass posting... just... so fascinating?

edit: my point has been made wHILE i was making this post

[mothercain]

The Consequence of Audience

As I went there through the long, long wood, I felt no-thing and I was no-thing and I was at ease. The grey ash trees and their mottled plumage were as one with each other, curving and branching to form a ceiling overhead. There was wide separation between trunks, creating vast corridors stretching off in all directions before me, behind me, all around me. O, what praise I could sing of that never-ending dusk fall I spent between those oaks! None came with me, none came upon me, for I was alone and I was at ease. Yet came the day the trees broke, the corridor ended, and I was thrust upon the rocky expanse that was the Great Dark. There I saw first face and heard footstep, few and far between, but I was no longer alone. It was a shameful deed to carry these two naked hands as they clenched hotly, now in full display for all to see. I had never noticed them in the wood, for I was at ease. Here, the taut skin seemed to stretch and sweat, almost glowing, as if exasperated of their own grip. For as I wandered the Great Dark, there was not but grey, barren rock as far as any eye could see. It did make a passerby out of an observer. I saw them trudge by, fingers dipped into their open mouths desperate for wetness, the lolled tongue. There, in the wood, I was the watcher, but here I am nothing but displacing air. Yet, within the smothering toil of my apathy, I had heard the bell. Murmur of God between their slick, bent fingers ruffled the hair on the back of my neck. My muscles groaned against the weight of the skin around them, aching to be set loose. All at once, I saw, from where I stood, there rose a great dome atop a hill on the horizon before me. Yes, I saw it there with mine own two eyes! The white exterior peered at me with flat orifices obscured through the mist, barely distinguishable from the dark sky behind it, as though all the world beyond the dome was cut from the same slab, only slightly effaced. The convex roof sat atop a disk, held up by great ionic pillars circling the temple. Steps radiated out and down the slope, like ripples in a pond escaping a dropped stone. It was greater than life, greater than the wood, greater than all else which filled this dark, and my gullible delight was that it was all mine. Yes, all mine! One could follow me to it but they could not follow me in. My hands stretched outwards with an audible cracking in the bone as I crept forward there. I could not tell you the rest. I would not even attempt, for it would change no-thing. To know if I did go completely naked into the theater of the divine. If I did need for no-thing, want for no-thing. If I was then full to the brim, cylindrical pull slid through my gaping jaw into my endless throat. If I saw it there, shimmering through the veil like pearlescent oil over crystal water. If it heard me singing with every atom that formed me, through every orifice and wound I had, polytonal in my begging for it to complete me with the fifth. If it looked into me, saw how I needed to know what God knows and to be with him. If it spoke back to me in flat dissonance, “how couldn’t ye?” It would be of no good to speak these things to you. In what way I was still returned to the ground, even if beneath it, intact with my puerile need to repeat my-self and my mistakes. Who would not climb the wall for a peer over the edge? The cautionary tale is the fool’s errand, and I am no fool. I am as my hands are; twisting in on themselves and bursting at the seams. I can-not contain the ache for sensation, just as I could not contain the grief as I fell, nor the agony as I crawled my way back to this rocky countryside, and lo! I am on my way there again now. I am, I am, I am! But I will not tell you the visceral details, as you already know them. You all do.

It’s happening to every-body.

[beloveds-embrace]

(The awaited regicide addition! A huge thank you to @sun-daddy-yoriichi and @thegreyjoyed for reading this beforehand and giving me their thoughts and pointing out the typos I missed! To @nightunite and everyone else, I hope you all enjoy!)

Original Post

Dukedom masterlist

The halls of the Palace were as oppressive as they were grand, a suffocating testament to a monarchy that, to you, had long since lost its soul. Towering columns of alabaster rose toward impossibly high ceilings, their surfaces carved with scenes of divine rulers ascending to eternal glory. The frescoes above- gold-leafed and luminous- depicted gods bestowing crowns upon mortal kings, and with those crowns, the right for greed.

It was a vision of power untouched by humility, a stark and painful mockery of the kingdom that groaned under its weight. Under its own monarchy’s weight.

You moved through the opulence with the practiced grace, your silks whispering softly against the cold marble floors. The jewels at your throat sparkled, but they felt like chains around your neck. No amount of finery could shield you from the oppressive weight of those walls- or the eyes of the man who ruled within them. You couldn’t wait until you could leave at last.

King Edgar, on the other hand, sat upon his throne of carved ebony and gold, draped in garments that spoke of wealth beyond even your imagination. But the man beneath them was a creature of cruelty. His gaze was sharp, predatory, as though he were dissecting those before him for weaknesses to exploit. Edgar wielded his authority like a weapon, each word carefully chosen to cut deep.

And you had made the mistake of challenging him. You and John both.

When Edgar imposed brutal taxes to fund yet another palace wing for a Queen never satisfied, for the concubines he keeps, John spoke out in the council chamber. When he refused aid to the starving eastern provinces, you arranged for secret shipments of grain. Neither defiances were ever bold enough to be declared treason, but it burned like an ember beneath his throne.

For this, you both earned Edgar’s ire.

But it wasn’t just ire. You wish it had just been ire.

Edgar’s disdain for you, specifically, had taken a far more personal turn. At court functions, he would find reasons to draw near on the now-rare chance you weren’t close enough to John, his presence impossible to ignore.

His hand would rest on your shoulder, his grip firm enough to press a message into your skin: I am in control. His words were always mix of thinly veiled insults and mocking observations, the look in his eyes something that made your stomach twist.

This last court gathering had been the worst yet. Edgar had been in rare form, seated at the head of a long banquet table while nobles competed for his favor. You had been seated nearby, as was customary for a duchess of your rank, but unfortunately, proximity to the king was a double-edged sword not even John could outright protect you from.

“You look radiant tonight, Duchess Pricee,” he had said, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of the room. John’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing lightly, comfortingly. “Tell me, do you think your husband appreciates your beauty, or is it wasted on him?”

The comment was met with nervous laughter from the assembled nobles, their eyes darting between you, John, and the king. You forced a tight smile, keeping your voice measured. “The Duke has always been a man of great appreciation, Your Majesty. For beauty, and for substance.” You turned to look at John then, finding safety in him.

Edgar’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened. The conversation moved on, but the tension lingered like a storm cloud. Later, as the banquet ended and the guests began to disperse, Edgar found you near one of the towering windows while you waited for John to finish speaking with a Baron. The light of the full moon was beautiful, but there was nothing serene about the way he cornered you.

“You should know your place, Duchess,” he murmured, his breath brushing your ear as he leaned in far too close to be proper. The scent of his perfumes was so heavy it made your head swim unpleasantly. “Perhaps I’ll remind you of it one day. You’d make a good teacher, at the very least, for my other women.”

The implication behind his words froze you to the core. You felt his hand graze your arm- light, but too close-before he turned and strode away, leaving you trembling with suppressed fury and fear. Queen Vivian, the only witness to this encounter, merely cuts you a dark, nasty look before she leaves as well.

You hated him. You hated her. You hated both of them.

You tell your men as much later that night, after Kyle helped you shower and kisses every inch of your skin until you could no longer think about the way Edgar had touched you.

John’s face darkened as you spoke. He sat by the fire, his broad shoulders hunched, his hands gripping the arms of his chair like he was holding himself back. Across from him, Simon’s jaw ticked, eyes unreadable beneath the flickering shadows of the room. Johnny paced the room, his usual good humor replaced by a simmering rage, while Kyle stood in the corner, his expression calm but his hands tight while he held yours.

“He’s a bastard,” Johnny muttered, accent thick with anger. “I’d love ta wipe that smug grin awff his face.”

“He’s more than a bastard,” John said, low and dangerous. “He’s a threat. To her. To the kingdom.”

Simon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “This isn’t just about his treatment of her. The people are starving, dying in the streets while he and the Queen feast on their labor. They are desperate, and will grow more desperate as winter fully comes…” he trailed off, but you had always been sharp enough to read between the lines.

And still, you hesitated. “…are you saying that-?”

John looked up, his eyes meeting yours. “We are saying it’s time for a change. If this continues, we are looking at a kingdom that will fall.“

He stood up, striding until he was pulling you into his arms and Kyle easily let you go. “But if we stop it now… we are looking at a kingdom that will prosper under new rule.”

And so, the plan was born in that room.

But still, plans and results take time. In that time, you still do your best to help your people:

The smell of smoke lingered in the air, heavy with the scent of charred wood and burnt houses. You stood at the edge of a village that had been reduced to rubble by one of the king’s careless decrees- his soldiers had come through a week ago, demanding supplies the villagers couldn’t afford to give. When they refused, their homes were set ablaze, leaving them with nothing but ash and grief.

And now, you were a witness to it. But you wouldn’t be a bystander.

John stood beside you, his face carved from stone. His shoulders and back were set straight, but his eyes softened when he turned to the group of villagers huddled nearby.

They looked up at him with a mix of awe and apprehension, as though they weren’t sure whether to trust the tall, battle-hardened man who had appeared out of nowhere with promises of help, and he couldn’t blame them. He likely reminded them of the same soldiers that ruined their lives, but he hoped your presence would soothe that animosity just a little.

Simon moved silently among the wreckage, not a Duke; masked and armoured, he had no identity in this moment. Yet, when a small child stumbled toward him, soot smudged across her cheeks and her eyes teary, he knelt without hesitation even when he could see her father and mother rushing towards them.

“Easy now.” he said, his voice low but gentle as he handed her a chunk of bread from his pack. The girl blinked up at him, her tiny fingers clutching the food as though it might vanish if she let go. Simon stepped back when her parents reach them, nodding his head towards them.

“Got the last of the grain sorted,” Johnny called, his arms loaded with sacks of provisions like the other servants. His coice carried a warmth that drew the attention of the villagers. “We’ll get it distributed fair and square- no one will be left hungry, aye?”

And Kyle was already speaking with the village elder, his calm, measured tone putting the man at ease. He had a natural way of connecting with people, one you were so fondly familiar with, and soon, the elder was nodding, gesturing to the scattered remains of what had once been homes. “We’ll help you rebuild,” Kyle said firmly. “But we need to know if any of the king’s soldiers are still nearby.”

They weren’t worried about repercussions or punishments; the King and Queen would just likely use this as an opportunity to boast about how they convinced John Price and his lovely little wife to help those in need.

As the men worked, you found yourself among the women and children, offering what comfort you could. You knelt beside an older woman who was cradling a young boy with a bandaged arm. “You’ve done well to keep it clean,” you said, inspecting the makeshift dressing. “But it needs proper tending. Let me help, please.”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding, tired eyes brimming with gratitude. As you worked, the boy looked up at you, his small voice breaking the silence. “Are you the Queen?”

The question startled you, and you glanced at John, who had overheard. He smiled faintly, his expression softening as he turned back to the villagers he was helping.

“No,” you replied, brushing the boy’s hair back gently. “I’m just someone who cares.”

Though you still heard the older woman sigh quietly. “… should’ve been you the Queen.”

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the village settled into an uneasy calm, the five of you gathered around a fire with the villagers, everyone now with coats and blankets to fight off the chilly night.

“They will likely not come back.” John told them, easing them more. “But even if they did- the Duchess and I will help. The Price and Riley duchies will never turn you away.”

You glanced at the men surrounding you, their determination. They were the hope these people desperately needed. Not a greedy King and an impassive Queen.

Your plans had to succeed.

Late at nights, you all sit together. Tonight, you were pressed to Johnny’s side, finding comfort in the soft smell of sugars and cinnamon and his arm warm and heavy around you.

John spoke, his voice a low rumble. “The army’s discontent is no secret. Edgar’s burned too many bridges, especially with this recent village raid, and Simon and I still have allies who’d follow us.” His blue eyes met yours, steady and unyielding. “But we’ll need more than soldiers to topple a king.”

Simon nodded. “That’s where Kyle comes in.” He said, squeezing Kyle’s hand. ���His network runs deeper than the king realizes. Servants, merchants, guards and soldiers- they all talk. We’ll plant the seeds of truth, let Edgar’s reputation rot from the inside out.”

Kyle leaned against Simon, squeezing back. “I don’t need to do much. People are already whispering. About the taxes, the famine, the soldiers running unchecked. Give them a reason to believe the king can fall, and they’ll push the rest of the way.”

Johnny grinned, his usual lightheartedness sharpened into something fierce. “And that’s where I come in, eh? The common folk already hate him. They just need a spark. I’ll give it to them- allies, stories, newspapers, whatever it takes to light the fire.”

Then all eyes turned to you.

“You want me to be the face of this,” you said, more a statement than a question. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you… weren’t afraid. You trusted them fully and unabashedly.

“You’re more than the face,” John said firmly. “You’re the reason, beloved. The people already call you the People’s Duchess. They trust you. They have reason to trust you.”

Simon leaned forward, his gaze locking with yours. “They need someone they believe in. Someone who cares about them more than titles or power.”

“You don’t have to be ready,” Kyle added, gentler. “You just have to lead. We’ll do the rest.”

Johnny kissed your cheek, raising your hands to kiss your knuckles. “They see you as hope, lass. And hope’s a powerful thing.”

Such a big responsibility, and yet…

If they believed you could lead this, maybe you could.

Another night, weeks into the planning, spreading and investigating, John found you in your study. The room was dimly lit, the fire casting warm light over the worn leather of the armchairs. You sat by your desk, going over the latest reports from the villages who were slowly and steadily understanding, when you felt his presence behind you.

“You shouldn’t have to carry this alone, my Duchess,” he said softly, leaning over you to brush a kiss across your bare nape, jewelry forgone for comfort.

You turned to face him, smiling. When he cupped your cheeks with such gentle hands, you leaned into his touch right away. “I’m not alone. I have all of you, no?”

John stepped closer, his fingers brushing your skin. “We’ll protect you. From him, and from anyone who dares to harm you.”

His words, the protectiveness that laced each letter, carried a weight that made your breath hitch. When he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair as the kiss deepened, his hand sliding to your waist to pull you up and closer.

When Simon walked in moments later, he froze. Then, with a low chuckle, he closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” John said, voice husky as he straightened, his hand still on your waist. You were trying to catch your breath, butterflies fluttering in your stomach and a slow, curling heat between your thighs.

Simon’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air grew thicker and warmer. Your dress felt like too much on your skin- you wanted to take it off. “You’ve no idea how much you mean to us, do you, darling?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and when he stepped closer, his hand cupped your cheek with surprising tenderness. He leaned in, his kiss slower, more deliberate than John’s, but no less consuming.

When the door opened again, it was Johnny and Kyle who entered, their expressions shifting from surprise to something far more intense as they took in the scene. What followed was a night of you being adored, their touches and whispers a vow, a promise to make you Queen, a devotion that words could never capture.

Eventually, in due time, it happened.

The coup began with the precision of a blade, honed by months of preparation and carried out by hands both steady and ruthless.

Under the cover of night, John and Simon led their soldiers into the Palace, moving like shadows through the grand halls. Years of military training were evident in every step, every silent order given and every hand waved. John’s voice cut through the tense air as he directed his men, his commands sharp and decisive.

Simon reminded everyone why he had earned the respect he was given.

Kyle’s network of informants worked in perfect synchronization with the military strike, just as they’d predicted. Loyal (to the people) servants within the palace dismantled its infrastructure from the inside- locks were jammed, gates sealed, and secret escape routes collapsed.

What had once been a fortress of power was turned into a cage, leaving Edgar and Vivian trapped within their own walls.

Beyond the palace, Johnny roamed the streets, igniting the people’s fury like sparks to dry timber. His words were a rallying cry, weaving tales of justice and liberation that resonated with a populace crushed under Edgar’s rule. Crowds gathered in the streets, their anger swelling into an uncontainable wave and further encouraged by Johnny.

By dawn, the city was awake, and its people were ready to reclaim what had been stolen from them.

Inside the estate, you paced the length of your study, the minutes dragging by like hours. The room felt stifling despite the cool night air, your thoughts a cacophony of fear and hope. You had wanted to be there, to stand beside them in the heart of the action, but your men had insisted you remain safe and sound. The helplessness clawed at you, but you trusted them.

You had to.

The doors burst open, and Johnny stepped inside. His clothes were disheveled, streaked with blood and soot, but his grin was feral and triumphant and you could feel a matching grin forming on your face. The fire in his eyes was unshakable. “It’s done. The palace is ours, lass. It’s time.”

The throne room was a battlefield, its previous grandeur marred by the evidence of the rebellion. The alabaster columns still stood tall, but the golden trim was tarnished by smoke and blood. Soldiers that did not join the rebellion lay bound and defeated across the marble floors, their weapons scattered.

And at the center of it all knelt Edgar, expensive robes torn and stained, his crown discarded and dented, all glory stripped from him. Vivian clung to him, her once-perfect facade crumbling into a mask of fury and fear.

“This is treason!” she shrieked, her voice piercing the heavy air. “You’ll hang for this, all of you! Guards! Guards!”

Edgar ignored her, and raised his head as you entered, enraged. “You dare to challenge me?” he spat, blood his voice trembling despite his bravado. “You think you can rule this kingdom? You’re nothing but a woman playing dress-up, a woman with too much freedom-“

You stepped forward, the sound of your heels- Simon had bent down himself, kissed your ankles and placed them on your feet by his own hands- echoing through the chamber. The weight of your fury steadied your voice as you replied. “And you’re nothing but a tyrant who will be forgotten. You will not be remembered for your glory, or achievements. Just… a simple speck of dust.”

At your signal, Simon hauled Edgar to his feet with ruthless efficiency, his gloved hand gripping the torn fabric of Edgar’s robes.

Edgar’s sneer faltered as his gaze flicked to John, then to Kyle, whose cold, measured gaze spoke of a resolve that could not be broken. Finally, his eyes landed on Johnny, who leaned casually against the throne, his dagger spinning idly between his fingers, his grin sharp as the weapon itself.

“You’ve surrounded yourself with traitors, John-” Edgar hissed, but his voice wavered, betraying the fear he couldn’t suppress. “This bitch-“

“Watch your words.” John shoved his sword right in front of Edgar’s face, a scoff falling out of his mouth, while Simon chose to grip Edgar by the roots of his graying hair, pulling tight. “The mud at the bottom of her heels is worth more than you’ll ever do, Edgar. Do not speak of treachery when you, your wife, and your family had betrayed this kingdom first.”

The weight of John’s words hung heavy in the air as Edgar’s sneer crumbled, and for the first time, you saw fear in his eyes.

It made you… happy.

It made you happier to know what their fates were, watching Simon and Johnny drag them away. You’d have to kiss them extra hard later… including some other things, of course.

When the throne room was finally cleared, John ordering the soldiers and Kyle speaking to the palace servants, you lingered near the grand windows overlooking the celebrating city. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, leaving you trembling.

The men found you there, the tension of the night giving way to a quiet that was almost more overwhelming.

Johnny reached you first, his usual teasing grin tempered with a softness you rarely saw. “You were bloody brilliant in there, sweetheart,” he said, warm and fond. “Never seen a tyrant look so small.” His hand brushed your arm, and his voice dropped, the edge of his accent rougher now. “You’ve got more fire in you than half the men I’ve known.”

Before you could reply, John stepped forward, his presence grounding you. He cupped your chin with surprising tenderness, tilting your face. “You’ve had more done tonight than Edgar’s done in all his miserable life.” He’s quiet, filled with pride.

Simon appeared at your other side. His gloved hand settled on your waist, unyielding. “You’re ours now,” he murmured, low and rough. “Our Queen. And no one- not a king, not an army- will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Kyle joined you last. His fingers brushed yours, as gentle as a whisper. His eyes were on the celebrations and songs, then on you. “You’ve given them hope,” he said softly, admiration shining through. “You’ve given us all hope, love. Let us retire for the night, hm? Everything else can wait until the morning.”

“For now,” Simon cut in, shaking his head, and his eyes were alight and alive. He looked at you in such a way that made you shiver, cheeks warm. His hands settled on your waist, squeezing. “I’d like to see our Queen on her rightful throne.”

No disagreements rang out.

And in the morning, the sun rose on a kingdom reborn.

Standing on the palace balcony, a crown on your head, you looked out over the gathered crowd. Their cheers rang out, echoing through the city with a fervor that sent pride up your spine. The people had come not just to celebrate the fall of a tyrant but to welcome the dawn of a new era.

As the golden light bathed the kingdom, you felt the weight of your new crown. It was heavy, but you were not alone; you had John, your King. Simon, Kyle, and Johnny. All of them were with you, supporting you.

You’d never want for anything else.

[k4vehrtz]

WHORETICULTURE. various jjk men / sub gn. reader

synopsis. filled with lust for some fucking guy.

who. nanami kento / satoru gojo / toji fushiguro / heian era! sukuna . ✦ . what. one night stand / unprotected sex / mild religious themes/ thigh riding / slut shaming / against a wall / mean dom (or just brat)! satoru / exes with benefits / exhibition / recreational drug use + alcohol consumption ergo dubious consent / oral (r giving) / body betrayal / brat! reader / implied cnc kink + masochism / domination loss / mild degradation + nipple play / double penetration

notes. terms are kept general thus gender neutral reader but it’s entirely up to your interpretation. a mini compilation of thirsts i had while attempting to fight writer’s block and an unforgiving schedule.

⸻ ## I KNEW IT WHEN I. . .

MET HIM !

[ NANAMI KENTO ]

nanami kento was the embodiment of the traditional man in every sense. he was a businessman — clad in a white button–down, black slacks, and a matching tie hanging around his collar. five days a week, monday to friday, nine a.m. to five p.m. a true provider.

that much you can assume from observation alone. he’s not like the usual crowd; the man stands out. so, it’s only natural that you become curious.

“i’m not above sex before marriage,” and when he speaks, he takes his time to carefully enunciate each word with practised precision. something you didn’t know you were attracted to until now, straddling his thighs.

“somethin’ tells me you’re not just a—” he presses a finger to your lips, interjecting, “if you’re suspicious of me we can always stop,” and you quiet down, rocking your hips back and forth as you feel his erection grow beneath your crotch.

the backseat of his car is a tight fit but it makes it all the more intimate. remnants of nicotine on his breath waft across your face, warming your skin.

“the windows are tinted,” he murmurs, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb, “it’s as private as it’s going to get,” before inserting the aforementioned finger into your mouth.

you smile to the best of your ability, wet muscle swirling around the salty digit as you maintain your grinding. slow and steady, purposeful movements that prompt just the right amount of friction between the two of you.

“isn’t this—” nanami interjects once more (you can barely get a word out), by way of pressing his thumb against your tongue thus causing a copious amount of saliva to cascade down your face. it’s wet and messy and done entirely for his own amusement. “we’re not celibate.”

[ SATORU GOJO ]

“do you—” he pauses mid–sentence, startling blue eyes fixated on his cock sliding in and out of your puffy entrance before continuing, “usually sleep with the stranger that saves you from a creep at the club or am i special?”

if you could’ve, you would’ve rolled your eyes. he’s talkative — too talkative but you find yourself enjoying the sound of his voice anyway. your hole quivers and tightens, gripping him like a vice at the implication that hangs between the two of you.

“i’m not easy ‘toru,” you protest in a weak attempt to sound firm though it leaves your parted lips as a breathy whine instead. and satoru smiles at that, chest rising and falling rapidly as he laughs.

“when did i say you were easy, stupid?” he asks, feigning innocence as he tilts his head to one side, bringing one hand up to your face to pat your cheek.

the action being somewhat degrading in its own sense. but ‘toru — satoru — was just like that. saying one thing and meaning or doing another. you couldn’t wrap your head around him.

and he revels in the fact, his smile continuing to grow; the type that meets his eyes and makes them crinkle ever so slightly.

“you wound me,” he tsks, bringing his lips closer to your ear as your body jolts upwards against the wall in sync with his cock bullying your hole, “all i meant by it was that we just met and look where we are now.”

‘it’s the same thing’ you think, but that’s all it is — a thought. when your lips part, you only vocalize a string of  moans. satoru was a labyrinth and you were lost in him — or rather the pleasure he provides.

“bet you’re already justifying this in your head.”

⸻ ## I LOVED HIM WHEN I. . .

LEFT HIM !

[ TOJI FUSHIGURO ]

“what —” he lifts the shot glass to his parted lips, “are you thinkin’ about?” before swallowing a mouthful of cheap liquor, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he does so.

it’s a good question; one you don’t know the answer to, but a good question all the same. you’re thinking about everything and anything while simultaneously not thinking at all — a blunt dangling haphazardly between your lips.

“you want to know what i’m thinkin’ about?” so you answer his question with a question like a smart ass instead, leaning in until you’re nose–to–nose with the man you swore you’d never see again. and he doesn’t hesitate, a half–smile playing on his lips as they ghost yours. they’re warm, lighting a fire beneath the surface of your skin in its wake.

“no, i don’t want to know,” he sing–songs in response, catching you somewhat off guard. what blindsided you though was him lowering the waistband of both his grey sweatpants and his boxers. his cock, exposed to the cool air of the alleyway, standing at full mast—a vein running from the base to the tip.

suddenly your mouth feels dry and your knees feel the slightest bit weaker. it’s muscle memory — or its evil cousin that encourages your body to betray you.

you’re sinking to your knees, blunt discarded somewhere on the concrete (for god’s sake, you don’t care). your lips part, cheeks hollowed and throat relaxed. quiet anticipation coursing through your veins as you feel the weight of his cock in your palms.

“you know what to do,” he rumbles from above you, picking at the beds of his nails. and he’s right, you do know what to do; how he likes it.

you take him into your mouth, dragging your tongue along the outline of his piercing some ways below the head of his cock. and toji lets out a satisfied groan. once, twice, and then a third time before you focus on taking his full length into your mouth inch by inch until he’s hit the back of your throat.

from there, you move your mouth along his length, tracing every inch of it with your tongue — imprinting its shape in your mind all over again. it’s more like refreshing an old memory rather than creating a new one.

“knew you’d—” he clenches his jaw, cock throbbing in your mouth as saliva mixed with his pre–cum slips past your lips stretched to capacity around him, “come back t’me.”

 [ HEIAN ERA! SUKUNA ]

“i’m—” your breath hitches, catching in your throat in sync with the rise of your shoulders, “many things my lord, but sorry isn’t one of them,” as your hips stutter.

momentarily. one hundred and twenty seconds.

it takes sukuna less than thirty seconds to capitalize on your fault. two hands wrap around your hips, nails pressed into the tender skin forming crescent-shaped indents. you’re forced to move to his rhythm now; cruel and unforgiving.

“should’ve focused on what’s important little one,” he clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment. he’s far from disappointed though, his cocks — both of them — buried to the hilt throb inside of you. and an onslaught of tears blur your vision; your mind is clouded by a myriad of sensations.

you’re somewhere between excruciating pain and unbelievable feats of pleasure.

“this isn’t—” you try, albeit with great difficulty as your words come in between gasps. but sukuna interjects, the corners of his lips curling upwards: “fair? stupid, this game of ours was never meant to be but you know that already.”

two more hands make contact with your skin after that exchange; two fingers on one hand pinching your nipple whereas the other holds your face in place so that you maintain eye contact with him.

and sukuna rolls his eyes as soon as your gazes meet though it’s a somewhat playful gesture. something most would find difficult to picture. but not you — never you.

“stop pretending to be a damsel in distress i’m not a—” he pauses mid–sentence, smile growing as he thrusts his hips, “well, i’m not that kind of monster,” the sound of his skin colliding with yours echoing throughout the room.

you whimper, staring at him through half–lidded eyes and a curtain of lashes wet with unshed tears: “i like what i like.”

 © k4vehrtz — all rights reserved. do not, under any circumstances, plagiarize / repost / translate my work.

[lialuvsaven]

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tw: none, he's just skittish but that's understandable. Might have grammatical mistakes but English isn't my first language so whatever. The « » words are supposed to be the avgin dialect okok that's all

"Will you teach me how to speak the Avgin dialect?"

Aventurine nearly splutters out the sip of wine he was about to drink, and you observe as his whole body subtly jerks — trying to figure out if he misheard you or not.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

And yet, the only expression he sees on your face is a little smile, a hint of curiosity and optimism in those lovely eyes of yours. For some reason, he can't find it in him to appreciate that look this time.

"And why is that?" The tone of his voice is reserved, calculated, and for a millisecond, you are reminded of your job: meetings, negotiations and transaction. The air suddenly feels thicker, and although he maintains his usual smile, there's a subtle shift that suggests it may not be as genuine as it was moments ago.

"Because I….want to understand you?" You naively respond, unaware of the warnings you're triggering in his head, unaware of the amount of bells ringing in his ears. The red alarms flashing in front of his eyes are bright, and they blind him to everything else, drowning out your silhouette until he can't make out your face as a familiar one.

All he's seeing is red, red of a warning bell, red of sunset and endings, red of blood and—

"I'm not sure why you even thought that would be a good idea" a small chuckle leaves his mouth, and he shifts a little on the couch in an attempt to regain his belongings.

"After all, I don't even speak it anymore— a dead language is not something you'd benefit from learning."

"But I am a linguist" You counter, huffing a bit. "I wouldn't think a language is “less beneficial” just because it's dead. Besides, Sigonian isn't a dead language, and neither is the Avgin dialect. You are here, and you speak it."

Blink.

"What?" Aventurine grows defensive, and he shifts in his seat again; only a little. It's not okay to let others know of your discomfort, you cannot show your weaknesses. Luckily, you don't notice, and he continues carefully.

"I don't speak it— what are you saying? How could I possibly use that language?"

He picks his sentences with caution, leaving half of it up in the air for you to interpret. He can't bring himself to finish it— he can't use it when everyone else who spoke of it is presumably dead. That would only result in another restless night of futile attempts at subduing the void in his heart. Just because he knows it, doesn't mean he likes to think of it.

Aventurine does not like to remember the fact that he's the only one left of the Avgins, even though the cosmos is merciless in its reminders.

"You do speak it!!" You insist, and look into his eyes, and his eyes almost make you forget the rest of your sentence. "—You say things under your breath. When things go south, or when your catcakes do something super adorable and you can't hold a grin on your face. I've seen you multiple times, talking to yourself in an unfamiliar language. It is your mother tongue, is it not?"

Ah.

The words that escape your lips are curling into itself, flickering through the corners of his mind. I've seen you multiple times. Multiple times. Multiple times. Talking to yourself. To yourself. To yourself.

His mother tongue.

Oh, how he wishes he could talk to someone else, how he longs to talk to another Avgin in his mother tongue— in their mother tongue.

"Do I do that?" He inquires, and you affirm, still wearing a smile. Both of you have been smiling at each other, but only one of you is clawing through the walls of their mind trying their best not to leave the room right this moment. You're not an adversary, he reminds himself. You're not an enemy.

"I can't teach you that." He stares in an unusually cold tone, sending shivers down your spine. A tone Aventurine reserves for when a business deal has gone wry, for when he needs to put on his best performance and come back at the top. Unfortunately, this means there's no room for you to argue, no negotiations, no nothing.

You realize a bit too late that you've made him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" Apologies keep flowing from your mouth, but Aventurine can barely hear them. All he knows is the warning bells in his ears are growing fainter, and you are once more becoming recognizable, the blur in your face diminishing by the second.

"It's okay," he laughs softly, ruffling your hair to dispel the gloom on your face.

"I don't remember much anyway- I can't teach you anything meaningful, you know? I think Tanti or any of the likes would do much better for your next research material than my native language. We have a reputation across the cosmos anyway, that language can't be intriguing to people."

"Huh?" You tilt your head in confusion, "I'm not going to write a paper on it though???"

"Then what did you want to learn it for?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I wanted to get to know you better."

The feeling of discomfort is back with that, and Aventurine finds himself trying to figure out how to come up with a valid excuse to end the conversation. If he isn't careful, you'll catch on. And if you catch on, you'll keep insisting on trying to understand him, to mend your mistakes and to avoid something similar in future. Then, he'd simply have to cut you off before you go too far. And he'd rather not cut you off and keep you by his side. Yes please, thanks.

You speak once more, but this time you avert your gaze from his eyes and focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet. "If you're not comfortable teaching me, I won't insist. I apologize if I overstepped. I want you to know that my intentions were not malicious. I simply wanted to learn your language so that we could converse in it, and I'm open to sharing my own language with you if you're interested."

Ah. You've now started to speak with more formal and eloquent words than usual, a habit Aventurine has picked up on thanks to observing you for so many years. You always do that when nervous, along with averting eye contact- and you're now anxious.

"it's okay," he reassures you again. "I know what you mean. So no need to worry, hm?"

His words seem to have given you a confidence boost, because your next words catch him off guard again.

"Also, I found your language to be quite beautiful."

"....Beautiful?"

"Yes," you gesture with your hands as you continue, "it's very melodious, you know? I'm familiar with the Sigonian language, as it was one of the languages I studied during my major. However, the Avgin dialect sounds... different. Of course, you're a very quiet mumbler—obviously— and I couldn't understand much- but I've realized that the Avgin is not only is not only significantly different from standard Sigonian, but it also has a much sweeter sound. As a linguist, it's disheartening to think that this sweetness has gone unnoticed by the world."

The initial panic has completely dissipated for Aventurine, replaced by a sadness even he can't place what for. He has half a mind to laugh, and tell you that his people were sweet too, but no one cared for that either. He wants to say of course it sounded sweeter, the standard Sigonian had always been dry and lacking the warmth, any Avgin would agree with you. And yet, he dares not let the dam loose.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he decides to observe you, as the ringing in his ears has now completely silenced. The you in front of his eyes is meek, likely because you've assumed you overstepped and made him upset. He hates seeing that expression on you: truly, especially when you shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He knows you well enough to know you're not lying, and for a split second— he entertains the idea of sharing the sweetness of his language with you, to have someone else who can understand his tongue.

He decides it's not an entirely uncomfortable thought.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to teach you the Avgin dialect, and he still finds it surprising that he made that decision. Everything related to the Avgins and their culture is dear to him, including his people, his family, and of course, kakavasha; he protects them with all of his being. However, for some reason, he has chosen to share this delicate and intimate part of himself with you. After all, he is the last known surviving Avgin—this is more than personal; it's his mother tongue, for goodness' sake!

You've proven yourself to be a very very dedicated student, absorbing every piece of information he imparts like a sponge. Aventurine is unsure of how to teach you, as he himself is losing touch with his language thanks to not speaking it for years. Because of you, he now thinks more in Avgin and realizes how much he thought he had forgotten but still remembered, and how much he thought he remembered but had forgotten.

But it's nice, to be greeted in his language whenever you two come across each other. You're still cheerful and sparkling as before, but now you can greet him in his language. «Hello, how's your day going!!!» You ask him each time, with that accent and broken words that makes you sound childish more than anything. But Aventurine could care less about that; he's quick to greet you back each time, adding a new word so you learn something from each interaction.

You've told him that he's much much more expressive whenever speaking Avgin, but he tries not to think about it.

"Manro means bread," Aventurine informs you, observing quietly as you eagerly jot it down in your notepad. "I quite like the feel of pen and paper," you told him once, and he still can't comprehend why that's preferable to typing on a screen instead.

"Mañro?" you repeat, and he has to conceal an affectionate smile at your accent. It's unfamiliar and odd, but not disliked. Never disliked.

"Manro." He corrects, and you get it down this time.

"So….«manro» means bread and you said…«pani» meant water? So let's say I wanna talk about my lunch….«I water with bread eat?» Is that how you say it?"

Aventurine purses his lips, trying to appear serious. "No, it's «I ate bread with water.» But what's with that meal choice? That can't be good for you."

You only huff in response, "hey— I'm still learning okay!! How do you say wine?"

"Mol"

"Mol— how about wanting to drink or taste?"

Aventurine raises an eyebrow, "Zumavel"

"Okok. So…. «I want to taste wine really bad. Might die.»"

Aventurine snickers at that, turning his gaze away to avoid receiving another punch from you. Despite the fact that you've opted for this inefficient learning method—since he can't provide proper grammar lessons—the sentences you're coming up with are hilarious.

"Not quite. It's «I want to drink wine so bad that I might die»" he corrects you again, and you let out an embarrassed laugh to write the correct structure down. You've promised him you'll figure out the grammatical structure and everything to him after all. And he can't say he's not hoping you actually will.

"How do you say eye?"

"Just like how you say in standard Sigonian"

"Ohhh….I've noticed that body part names are usually unchanged in the Avgin dialect. How about warmth?"

"We call it tato" he smiles at you, and your cheeks tint the faintest hue of pink as you look away.

"«Your eyes—»" you purse your lips, thinking hard to form the structure "«-Are warm right now. Very warm.»"

Aventurine's eyes widen, and for a moment he's speechless; unable to comprehend how and why. But you're blushing, and playing with the hem of your shirt, which means at the very least you aren't lying.

«I'm afraid you've become my heart» He says under his breath, the words escaping his mouth before he can even stop them. It tastes sweet in his tongue, memories of a time long gone resurfacing. He didn't even remember that saying, up until now. And now, he has a little more understanding of how sweet his mother tongue really is.

"What does that mean?" You ask him, and he merely smiles at that.

"Nothing. I just said thank you."

A/N : gah I'm sorry for that word vomit I can't stop thinking about it....like one been thinking for months about his language and what it might mean for him now that he's (presumably) the only avgin left. My mother tongue has PLENTY of dialects, and there are certain ones that are totally different from the standard (I don't understand some of those) so I kind of projected....and other than that I hope it wasn't too bad omg

[yangkitties]

giving them flowers ✩ skz

pairing: ot8 x gn!reader || word count: 1.7k genre: 100% fluff 🫶 || warnings: none, vaguely proofread 😁 synopsis: skz when you give them flowers out of the blue! note: i am so sorry for taking so long with this post, i js got so caught up in so many things 😭 anyways i hope y'all enjoy it <3<3 also abby i hope you're happy its finally out, now plz get out of my walls 😘

Chan: 

cries a little for sure 

the ‘for me? rlly? rlly? rlly?’ kinda guy

kisses you so much like for real

takes the BEST care of the flowers, they survive for a whole two weeks somehow 

even dries and presses them after they wilt and frames them <3 

Disbelief washed over Chan’s face, his brain slowly processing what had just happened. He slowly drunk in the fact that you had brought him a bouquet of flowers, just because you could. 

He watched silently as you presented the flowers to him him. Gingerly taking them from your hands, he observes in awe at the multitude of colours. 

‘Are these really for me?’ He looks up at you with glossy eyes, head tilting to the side. You can only giggle, adoring his cute habits. You lean in to place a chaste kiss on his forehead, your actions speaking more than an essay of reassuring words ever could have.

‘I was walking back home and the bouquet reminded me of you.  I had to get it, it would be a crime if I didn’t.’ 

The simple action warmed Chan’s heart, love and affection coursing through his veins. He hugged you suddenly, nuzzling his head into your neck. You smiled into his hair, enjoying the contact. 

‘I love you, so dearly.’

Minho

dying and crying and wailing on the inside 

he’s so damn grateful, he rlly can’t believe someone loves him like this 

will not admit it, but tears up like 100% 

‘thank you baby, but you’re prettier’ manages to pull an uno reverse and fluster you 😁 

looks at them fondly from the couch

Usually when you picked him up from the airport, Minho could spot your face right from the get go. But today, all he could see was a large bouquet of colourful flowers, accompanied by a sign that read ‘Lee Minho’. As he approached the sign, the flowers shifted to the side to reveal Minho’s favourite view, your smiling face. 

Giggling, he engulfs you in a tight hug. 

’So who are these for, baby?’ He examines the bouquet, observing the bright hues. 

’They’re for you silly!’ You hand him the bouquet and take his back pack from him. He stands agape, shock drawn over his sharp features. 

‘Me.. me??’ His stuttering sends you into a fit of giggles, enjoying the rare moment where you got to see your boyfriend flustered. 

Quickly regaining composure, he pulls you to his side, whispering in your ear, ’The flowers are pretty sweetheart, but they’re not as pretty as you.’ You gently slap his chest, hiding away into his jacket. 

‘Oh, shut up.’

Changbin:

almost dies in a giggling fit 

hugs them so tight the stems almost snap off T-T 

appreciates it more than he can even tell 

picks one out and puts it behind you ears :) 

brags about it to the rest of them what an amazing partner you are

The shock etched on Changbin’s face when you reveal a bouquet to him sends you into a small fit of giggles. Accepting the flowers delicately, he marvels at the colours and types of flowers. 

He smiles, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes, tighter and tighter, afraid his love for you might explode out of him. He whispers, softly against your ear, 

‘I love them so much. So so so much.’ He hugs you tighter, and suddenly, snap. The sharp crunch of the stem of one of the flowers breaking cuts through the confession, startling the both of you. 

‘Oh no… oh man.’ You cautiously examine the bouquet, worried it might fall apart. Changbin quickly identifies the broken flower, carefully picking it out of the bouquet. 

‘Don’t worry baby, now I can do this.’ He deftly tucks the flower behind your ear, brushing away the hair on your face. He admires your face quietly, enjoying the fact that your cheeks are almost as pink as the flower. 

Hyunjin

bawls. a lot. like uncontrollably 👍 bros a bit emosh if you will 

babbles a million thank yous while kissing you 

paints them so he can keep them forever!!

like chan he dries and presses them and makes a pretty craft work with it:) 

makes you a better bouquet in return

When you sent flowers over to Hyunjin’s apartment, you really hoped he’d enjoy them. You knew how much he loved them, and when you saw the most delightfully beautiful bouquet of flowers, you knew you had to buy it for him. 

When you received a photo of the bouquet with the text ‘they’re perfect’, you knew your job was done. 

What you didn’t expect when you returned to the apartment was a painting of the exact bouquet you had given him. In the short time you were away, Hyunjin had managed to set the flowers in a vase and capture their exact likeness on a new canvas. 

‘It’s the prettiest bouquet I’ve ever seen. I just think its beauty should be appreciated forever.’ He smiles simply as he walks over to you, long hands circling your waist. 

He places a chaste kiss against your ear before whispering, 

‘And so should yours.’ 

Jisung

jumping with joy !!

he’s twirling around the room really, he loves them so damn much 

also brags to the members, definitely the happiest of them all 

almost kills them within the first two days but miraculously keeps them alive for a whole week 

smiles until his face hurts every time he sees them 🥰

The pure joy on Jisung’s face was enough to compensate for all the struggles you had to deal with to get a bouquet of flowers for him. 

You watched him as he twirled around the room, practically bouncing off the walls in happiness. The little pink tulips bounced along with him as he ran to you. 

‘THANK YOUUU!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!’ He screeches into your ears, giving you a soul crushing hug. 

But it’s worth it. The near deafness, cracked ribs, and painfully happy grin on your face, becomes insignificant when you watch the gleaming smile on his face as he prances around the room, bursting with bliss. 

Felix

So cute and lovely about it, thanking you continuously !!

Takes like. 1 million pictures. 

Giggles like a school girl because the note says ‘sunshines for my sunshine’ 

Gets you a bouquet of your favourite flowers that very evening 

Now it’s a competition and you keep getting each other bouquets… until the house starts attracting bees so you have to give them all away ☹️

When you heard about Felix bagging another modelling gig, you knew the perfect congratulatory gift would be a bouquet of white lilies. And as expected he loved them. He took about a million photos and gave you a million more kisses.

But what you didn’t expect was that when you got your big promotion, he would gift you with a bouquet of white tulips. Eventually, this started happening back and forth, each of you getting more and more extravagant bouquets for the other. It soon evolved into a symbol of affection and pride, the both of you showering each other in bouquets. 

Sometimes it would be for actual reasons, and other times it was just because you wanted to. Staring at the umpteenth bouquet of the month, you swear your house had no more vases for it. 

‘Lixxie… baby I think we’re all out of vases…’ You exclaim as he laughs, shocked at your behaviour. 

‘Well, I just thinks we love each other so much more than what we can handle.’ He smiles at you, radiant as always.

Seungmin

dies. like. he really thinks he’s died and gone to heaven when he sees the bouquet 

so quiet you think he doesn’t like them, but is quick to reassure you 

bros like so damn speechless until you begin to start apologising and suddenly he can’t shut up 

literally will not stop rambling about how grateful he is for them and how much he loves you until you kiss him 

his ears are as red as the roses man he’s so down bad <3 

When you showed up at the restaurant with flowers for him, Seungmin knew he would do nothing short of everything to keep you his. 

With your dazzling smile, and honey sweet voice, you told him that the flowers for him, and in that moment his brain short circuited. A spiral of thoughts danced around his head, almost as chaotic as the butterflies in his stomach. The keyword was almost, because he was pretty sure the butterflies in his stomach had done cocaine. 

He watched your smile morph into a frown, lips curling downwards. 

‘Oh… do you not like them? Oh my god wait, are you allergic? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!!’ You frantically tried to remove the bouquet from beside him, afraid of triggering an allergic reaction. Your actions were quickly halted by Seungmin’s slider fingers around your wrist, eyes wide. 

‘NO! No, no I mean no. I love them. SO much… I just. I love them so much I don’t know what to say.’ He smiles softly before taking your hands in his, holding them gently. 

‘I love them, but I definitely don’t love them more than I love you.’ 

Jeongin

becomes a tomato !

bros FLABBERGASTED! giggles and kicks his feet and my god is he blushing

kisses your cheeks a lot he just loves them very much :D 

almost accidentally undoes the bouquet while arranging it, thank god you’re there to help him- 

now he expects one bouquet per week or he WILL pout and whine 😁👍

When Jeongin opens the door after hearing the bell, he expects to see your smiling figure, wearing a stolen hoodie and a bright smile.

Instead, he’s greeted with the sight of the most wonderful bouquet of flowers, a burst of almost every colour in the rainbow. Purples and yellows accompanied by splashes of pink and red greet him, as he gapes in shock, awestricken at the sight before him. 

‘Hi Innie! Are you gonna let me in or am I going to have to stay here the whole day?’ Your voice piques from behind the flowers. 

‘Oh god, yes, come in.. baby, are these.. for me?’ He questions awkwardly, shuffling around to let you in. He takes the flowers from you as you reach up to kiss his cheeks. 

‘Well yes silly, who else am I going to get flowers for?’ You laugh at his stunned face, ears almost as red as the flowers in the bouquet. 

You carefully take the flowers back from him, looking for a vase to place them in. You adore the way he follows you like a lost puppy, smiling fondly at the bouquet in your hands. 

©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

[devil-in-hiding]

STOP cause imagine when bully soap gets an injury and she helps him and he, grumpily thanks her and she gets emotional over it

please yes because the moment Price introduces you to the team, you and Soap are staring at each other, gobsmacked

He is still the same Johnny that he’s always been, loud and explosive, and you’ve seen a fair share of rookies come through from him pushing them in training.

You’re restocking ice packs when the door swings open, and Soap stumbles through, blood dripping down into his eye and his eyes are unfocused.

“Fuck sake’s Johnny!” You gasp, steadying him when he slumps against the wall. “Sergeant MacTavish.” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at you and you scoff. “What happened?” You demand, leading him over to a chair.

He mutters something, eyeing you wearily as you slip on a fresh pair of gloves, wetting a towel so you can clean up his face and the area surrounding the wound.

“Speak up.”

“Lass you’re toein’ the fuckin line-“

“I am your medic Soap. I have to know how you got this.” You snap, glaring at him even as you gently clean away the blood from his eye.

“One of the gun boxes wasn’t put away properly and it fell and hit me in the head, happy?” He barks, crossing his arms, the slightest hint of a pout on his face and you roll your eyes.

“Was that so hard?” You mumble, reaching for a zip suture.

You finish up in silence, double checking him for any other injuries, his chin in your hand as you tilt his head back and forth slowly. “Are you dizzy?”

“Will be if you don’t stop moving me around.”

“How’s your vision?” You frown, searching his eyes. They’re clearer than they were when he first stumbled in, focused.

Soap abruptly pulls away, and you’re surprised that his face is red. “‘M seein just fine..” He mutters, and you tilt your head.

“Well, it’s better you don’t fall asleep for a bit, and if you start feeling disoriented you’re gonna have to come see me again.” You explain as you start cleaning the station, and you can feel his eyes on you as you move around med.

“Is there anything else I can do for you Sergeant?” You ask, and the flush on his face darkens. Strange.

“No. I’m fine now just uh…” he trails off, muttering something under his breath and you sigh, crossing your arms. “You think after all these years you’d have grown out of that.” You observe, and his eyes shoot to yours.

“Thank you.” He blurts, and you freeze. “Thanks for uh.. for cleaning me up. Soft touch.” He’s tripping over himself, and you can only stand there, heart pounding.

You have known this man since the two of you were in primary, he use to shove you off the swings and squeal with glee, steal your homework assignments when he forgot his at home, stole SO many of your lunches.

You’re not sure what comes over you, maybe just the feeling of dejavu, but you feel tears pool in the corner of your eyes, and you see Soap panic.

“I thought you’d have grown of this!” He sputters, and you can’t help the laugh that spills out, shaking your head. “Shut up, I don’t even know why i’m crying.”

“Did you ever know why you were crying?”

“Yeah, you!” You laugh, wiping your cheeks as Soap finally cracks a smile. You smile back, and watch as he slowly stands. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Aye I’m good lass, thanks to you.” He grins, and your heart flutters. This is the Johnny you see with his team.

[samodivaa]

Lust looks pretty on you

Bucky x Reader : One Bed Trope. But he is your crush and his body is too close. He can't tell that you are masturbating, right...?

Warnings - soft smut, masturbation Words - 2.5k AN - I want to make a filthy version as well, but this felt just right.

Somehow you cannot help being reminded of a him, you look at him with compassion, sometimes with sympathy—though suddenly in one instant he becomes, as though by chance, lovely and exquisite, you can’t comprehend the power of those pensive eyes flashing with such fire—between the shadow and your soul, you love him, feelings can’t be repressed. But sometimes his eyes, his soft features burn with anguish and you grieve, in silence, that his beauty fades—your eyelashes glisten with tears Bucky never knows of.

When he comes close to you, there is already a gleam of a smile on your lips, faintly blushing and looking down.

“There is a room, but it has only one bed” he says uneasily. “I am okay with that” you say with an indescribable gesture, a gravest face, but your heart begins throbbing. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and-” Bucky speaks timidly in an ingratiating voice. “I assure you” you say in a whisper, full of affection, eyes beaming with delight as you take his human hand.

Finishing your answer, you pause pathetically, because there is an intense desire to force yourself to laugh, already feeling that a malignant demon is stirring inside, making you imagine curtain scenarios and suddenly there is a lump in your throat. You are always so tender, so solicitous with him—your soul is full with loving sympathy. “I can sleep on the floor-” Bucky begins in a plaintive voice, in which there lies a hope, though a very faint one and bends his head. “No, I would never allow that” He is looking at you intently, while a strange curiosity gleams in yours. Bucky stops, with his mouth open, because he can’t speak for delight as you continue to hold his hand. Your lips are quivering and you try to say something as well, but can only convulsively squeeze Bucky's hand in silence. You continue to look affectionately at him as a smile passes over his lips. “Okay” he brings out at last.

When you enter the hotel room, you say tragically “Oh, the bed is small” Your eyes meet, he is gazing at you with a sort of wonder that evidently surprises you. Then, he tilts his head, his thin lips threatening to break into a smile

“But we will manage!” 

You say briskly, quick to add to the previous statement, and, indeed, on the mad idea that flashes on your giddy brain—you will take a long shower in the hopes that he will fall asleep. That position is desperate, but you are hot with shame, because he keeps staring at you, grasping at once that you might be up to some mischief. Bucky always does that—studies every gesture, every movement you make, listens to every vibration of your rich voice, but strange to say, as the result of all his observations tonight, he feels, mixed with a sweet and timid impression, a feeling of intense curiosity. It seems as though he is on the verge of uncovering the mystery of your unusual behavior. But with your masterly acting, trying to keep you together, the whole process goes on in you unconsciously as you approach the other side of the bed in wide steps after having closed the door behind and sit on the mattress. You have purposely chosen this solitary spot, your eyes facing the wall. “You go shower first, I want to call my mom” Bucky grows suddenly confused, and a faint trace of vexation is betrayed in his impatient movement and he is glad that you can’t see it, but he remains quiet, in his heart there is a sort of haunting worry—are you scared of sleeping next to him? Is it because of his nightmares? He is irritated, boiling with indignation and hate, towards himself, for it is the first time that he has felt like that in your presence. Feelings so coarsely handle him—he is reminded of what he truly is. 

The sound of running water echoes as he decides to go and turn the faucet on, adjusting it to a comforting warmth. Heaven. He winces as his back is met with hot water, swapping through his hair, through the curls and then running in streams down his shoulders, muscles protesting with each movement, but the warmth provides a reprieve from the ache that is a companion throughout the whole night. Bucky is analyzing the situation while he showers. His heart leaps and shudders when he exits the bathroom, but he is thankful that you are still talking on the phone so he lays on his side in despair and misery, hiding his face in the pillow, and is alternately feverish and shivery—he will make sure not to sleep, because his mind is too frightened by the the idea of scaring you with his nightmares, in his exhausted state all the emotions of the day come back to him in a rush. Whatever lies hidden in both your secret and behavior, he understands, but it causes moments of anguish of which he won’t forget. You longed to cheer him up, to relieve his anxiety if only by a glance, but when you see him sleeping, you tip-toe to the bathroom as Bucky lays with his eyes shut. When you come back into the room, his eyelashes quiver, but he controls himself and does not open his eyes. Was he that tired?  When you begin pulling up the quilt over you, shame or some other feeling drowns him, wishing to hide from this moment, but he can’t fall asleep so he persisted in lying in bed in silence as you obstinately pull the blanket higher and higher.

A terrible, awful weakness overcomes your senses, you try to lay with your eyes closed, because desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving and you can’t master your need for him—that realization leaves you rather embarrassed, and at once flush crimson. This feels all so humiliating, and then you make that blunder, a very important one—you think about pleasuring yourself. That’s just what makes you so ecstatic, that you have a presentiment.... and though it’s so dreadful, it’s all for the best. In fact, you believe nothing better could have happened, because this is once in a life's opportunity. Involuntarily, you find your eyes scouring the darkness, looking for the outline of his bulky body, but you can only feel the warmth radiating from it. You move your fingers slowly and strainedly, working your way down your torso and swallow when you reach your panties as your nipples harden, poking through your shirt. You swiftly pull your panties to the side, strings of your wetness part from your underwear and you realize—there is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. You breathe meekly and squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, because you hate the notion of being reduced to pleasuring yourself merely because of his close proximity, an embarrassing, desperate thing to do, but even so you keep on gently touching yourself.

You begin sliding your index finger between the folds of your entrance, it makes you shiver and your mouth slightly hangs open, heat rushing to your puffy cheeks, eyes halfway shut. The magic that coils through your own touch leaves you breathless, and your back arches a bit into the sensation as a strange euphoria. You struggle slightly to stay motionless, the other hand trails down to your breasts to squeeze them slightly, purposely avoiding your nipples for now. You use the gathered wetness and press your finger firmly against your clit, making your thighs twitch. A sinner who sins boldly—but that makes you freeze. And yes, you have a sordid soul in many ways, but on the contrary, it is full of a fine feeling—of love for him. You are anxious, worrying is using your imagination to create something you don't want —but what if that movement woke him up? What if he somehow knows?

You start to rub slow circles around your clit as you tilt your head to his side, taking a shallow breath in through your nose. You are so aware of your sin that you fully cherish it and your imagination is a wonderful thing, it allows for all manner of undiscoverable thoughts —will he rub your clit like that? Maybe he will eat you out and moan into your cunt as he devours it? The soft flesh of your inner thighs ripples just a little as your legs shake, even though you try to control it, your chest heaves up and down just by thinking about it. You knead violently at the flesh of your right breast, pinching and flicking at your own nipple as you stimulate yourself. Then something unexpected happens. He sneezes. “Sorry” he says quietly, distinctly. It feels like you are caught, tried, and condemned to death. “Bucky? Bless you” you talk with as much composure as you can. And he was not supposed to hear, because It's a horribly private moment, a vulnerable moment on your part and he should be sleeping.

“Are you—” begins Bucky, but pauses in confusion. “No-” you interrupt suddenly, with a look of weariness, focusing on your lungs, on your ability to take a deep breath, to soothe with oxygen as the word rolls off your tongue while a deep blush suffuses your face. “Because I am” He is jerking off—? Well he was sliding across the painfully erect cock slowly through the fabric, making sure he didn't cum. His tone is so natural and respectful that you can't possibly suspect him of any insincerity. He feels instinctively that some such well-sounding humbug, brought out by him, will soothe your worries, and will be specially acceptable to you in such a delicate position. It is clear from his radiant face that he considers his words for the right ones in this moment, despite you not seeing his features in the darkness. Bucky gets up on his elbows, there is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his lust takes over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive need, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state. His hard dick twitches and arousal trickles down his spine, because of his own confession. You feel him shift on the bed and he turns on the light on his nightstand. 

His eyes narrow until they have faint darkish glitter. You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he stares at your face, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze. 

You have curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes, eyes that are very pretty and very nice, he loves when you turn to stare at his blue orbits—but you are fantasizing right now—which is utterly inappropriate for the part of your mind which wants to just hug Bucky all day long. “Were you thinking about me?” He asks innocently as he shamelessly stares—swallowing you whole. Slowly, you nod. He pushes off the blanket and your gaze drops to the outline of his cock, pushing up his heart into his throat—your breathing is eager and exciting—lips are faintly chapple, but soft in the corners. 

And then, his hot mouth is breathing into your ear and before you can even blink, he is on top of you, lips ghost over your earlobe. His hot mouth is breathing into your skin, your chest is pressed against his and he can feel the swell of your breasts through your shirt. You gasp as you feel his broad chest and toned abdomen holding you down as the hard bulge in his boxers rubs deliciously against your clothed pussy lips. For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary—he kisses your neck, lips, cheeks, worships your skin, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat. He doesn't want just sex—he seeks passion. “Bucky-”

You keen between short breaths, between his gentle kisses as your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck. He rips your panties down with his metal hand and then reaches into his own to help his cock spring free. Drop of precum lands on your abdomen as he runs his thumb over the veins that run along the underside, barely audible as he drags his fingers across his tip, gathering the wetness before moving his fingers in front of your face. He gently rubs your lower lip, a finger working its way inside of your mouth, pressing on your tongue, eliciting a gag before removing it completely. “God, baby girl” he growls in your ear as his fingers brush up your soaking cunt “You look so innocent yet you were mastrubating right next to me” he goes on as he runs the tip of his finger back and forth, collecting your slick. Your eyes are pinched shut, lips parted ever so slightly, panting softly, a rosy flush coloring your cheeks. If it is the dirty element that gives pleasure to the act of lust, of his words, the dirtier it is, the more pleasurable it is bound to be—you are shameless, he thinks, swallowing the guttural groan that escapes him. You moan when he puts his fingers in his mouth, feverishly licking them, tasting you.

He is eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole, he thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he runs back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. It is a slow, torturous process as your cunt stretches around him, accommodating his girth. Love is something he wants to nurture and grow, a connection that exists within each one of you—he has not missed a single one of your gestures, not one of the indications of your body and now it occurs to him that your eyes themselves have the color of love, they speak the language of both emotions and pleasure.

He breaks the intense eye contact to attack your neck, sucking and lightly biting on your weakest spot. Never have you been more aroused than, more needy as you continue to be relished by him by cock inside of you. "You are so bold sometimes. It's why I love you" he smiles against your hot skin, wondering how on earth he'd been lucky enough to find you. Whiny, stranded pleads leave your lips. His words are so sweet in comparison to the filthy trusts. His lips find yours as he feels you getting closer and he pushes you farther to the edge as he begins to fondle with your clit, your breathing becomes more labored. He keeps circling his finger in just the way that you love it and you can feel the beginning of the orgasm, sending your body into a wave of pleasure. You clenching around him—shuddering against him, as an orgasm washes over his own body. Bucky lose himself in your eyes—in the vocabulary of them as the pleasure goes through your body. The words became unnecessary. He made you feel loved.

[wilwheaton]

fuck you pat robertson

Pat Robertson walks past thousands of souls, smugly and full of pride, and cuts to the front of the line at the velvet rope in outside the entrance to his version of Heaven.

The bouncer looks up from their clipboard, observing Robertson with thousands of eyes in a swirling cascade of light.

"Pat Robertson," they say. "We've been expecting you."

Pat Robertson silently congratulates himself. He swells with joy. All those people who died from AIDS, natural disasters, even 9/11 ... they all deserved it. They were sinners!

The bouncer speaks into their headset. "He's here." They listen. "Yep. At the front of the line."

The bouncer turns most of its gaze back to Pat Robertson. "Just wait here for one moment, please."

Pat Robertson steps to one side and waits.

After one thousand years, he begins to wonder if there was a miscommunication.

"Excuse me," he says to the bouncer, "I am Pat --"

"Robertson. Yes. We know. We're just getting everything in order for you. It will just be one more moment."

Tens of thousands of victims of gun violence walk past him and enter Heaven. The population of an entire village, lost in a typhoon that was intensified by climate change, is welcomed. And still he waits.

They file past him, all the people he looked down on. All the people he hurt, directly and indirectly, don't even notice him as they pass. It's like he isn't even there.

Another thousand years pass. Pat Robertson realizes he hasn't had a thing to eat since he died and he is so very hungry.

"Hey!" He shouts at the bouncer. "What's the problem? Don't you know who I am?"

The bouncer rolls half a million eyes at once. "We know exactly who you are."

"Well, alright, then!" Pat Robertson spits out, exasperated, "if you aren't going to help me, get someone here who will!"

The bouncer speaks into its headset again. "We're ready."

A gibbering mass of what is mostly human flesh -- or was, once -- slithers / rolls / flops into Pat Robertson's view. It is covered with mouths that bleed and weep and click their teeth together. Enormous open sores swirl and burst and close and reopen and drip pus and viscera across blistering skin. The faint memory of a smell surrounds it, something like very old cigar smoke and very expensive liquor.

Pat Robertson tries to scream. Arm-like stalks extend from the quivering shape. One resembles a hand at the end of an arm, dripping viscera.

In a flash, it grabs Pat Robertson's hand and shakes it. Something hot and acidic splashes up on his arm, blinds him in one eye. He feels weak. Afraid. Alone. Confused.

Hundreds of mouths try to speak. Dozens of them vomit acrid bile that splashes across his chest. Dozens more silently spit out the lies they've been cursed to repeat for eternity to an audience who will never hear them again.

One mouth speaks clearly. So clearly, it's inside Pat Robertson's head and everywhere else all at once. "I'm Rush Limbaugh," it says. "I'm your new roommate. Come with me."

And that's when Pat Robertson knows. That's when it all hits him, all at once. He's getting everything he deserves.

The line to get into Heaven does not see or hear or notice him, or the Limbeast. They can't hurt anyone, anymore.

The cancerous mass of hate wraps its arm around his shoulder and just like that Pat Robertson finds himself in a vast parody of a cathedral. It's built of bones and flesh and lies. The walls writhe, and he sees that they are not bricks and lathe but bodies wrapped in confederate flags and wearing red hats.

The pews are filled to capacity with the souls of people who followed him in life, hated who he told them to hate. Only their hate is now focused on him, hot and unforgiving. Relentless.

Pat Robertson looks for his companion, but it has vanished. It has left him alone to suffer.

A sermon rises in his chest and pushes against his throat. Pat Robertson is compelled to speak, and as he does each word tears through him like broken glass. He spews his hate and his lies, just as he did in life. Only in this place, he doesn't feel the glee and the satisfaction he always did. No, he feels the pain and the suffering and the agony of every human being who he deliberately hurt. He. Feels. All. Of. It. He tries to stop speaking. Of course, he can not. He can not ever stop.

And Pat Robertson's eternity begins.

[arminsumi]

❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟒

Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟒 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A soft redness dusted Satoru’s face as he vigorously washed his face with a foaming cleanser in the bathroom. Early morning. Very hot. Peak summer heat. And on this stark-bright day he had plucked the courage (thanks to Suguru’s motherly encouragement) to ask you out on a date. You’d agreed with a smile – and the image of your smiling response lingered in Satoru’s head while he got ready for the date.

Satoru looked in the mirror at his reflection and noticed that the corners of his lips were naturally upturned; he was at a genuinely happy point in his life. Ever since you came to visit Japan, Satoru felt like an invisible weight lifted from his shoulders. One he wasn’t aware of before it lifted.

He blinked at his reflection, white lashes quivering.

大丈夫に見えますか？

Do I look okay?

He checked himself out in the mirror, observing how his white t-shirt draped over his shoulders.

カジュアルすぎる服装ですか？

Am I dressing too casually?

He dabbed cologne on his neck and sprayed it under his shirt to trap the minty-vanilla scent.

When he entered the living room, Suguru took one inhale of Satoru and his nose immediately scrunched up at the minty scent that hit his nose.

「ミント？」 he fake-belched, "Better vacate the area." he said dramatically and went to the kitchen, which was not divided by a wall but just a ceiling-tall shelf panel that you could peer through.

You and Satoru laughed at Suguru's overreaction.

Mint hopped on one of the shelves near Suguru, and then he extended the joke by freaking out.

「ミント地獄にいる。」 he said. "I'm in mint hell."

Satoru giggled and tormented Suguru with his cologne by trying to trap him in a hug — Suguru was having none of it. Their banter settled down after a few minutes.

Mint was just observing and swishing her tail peacefully the whole time.

"Satoru should put that cologne on you, Mint, then I'll hate you even more!" he cooed condescendingly at the Turkish Angora.

You laughed, "Suguru, it's no wonder Mint hates you, if you speak like that to her."

"Hey now listen — this cat is the reincarnation of a murderer that tried to kill me in a past life." Suguru said dramatically, "See that evilness in her eyes? She's out for my blood."

*****

Satoru used the translator to talk with you during the train ride to the aquarium.

At some point, a translation of one of your replies made him laugh so hard that tears formed in his eyes.

Google translate felt emotionless, so Satoru brought out his phrasebook and tried to speak with it. It looked personalized with his notes. You could tell that he’d consulted the book many times already in the past.

You wanted to look at it closer, so you asked, “Can I?”

“Mhm.” He handed it to you.

You flipped through the phrasebook and read the section names. Basics. Practical. Social – there was a big red circle drawn around a particular phrase on page 140. The romance section.

Satoru’s cheeks burned. He felt a bit caught. He gave you an awkward but cute smile.

What he had circled in the phrasebook was;

キスしてもいい？

The train stopped at the station you had to get off at. The lady over the speaker sounded so sweet that your attention was drawn away from the phrasebook. Satoru surreptitiously took it from your hands and packed it into his backpack.

The two of you boarded off the train, bumping shoulders at the doors and laughing about it.

Satoru squinted because of the sun, and you distinctly remember looking at him and thinking about how attractive he was when he squinted.

Because the sun was blazing so bright, Satoru hovered his hand over the back of your head to make sure you didn't heat up too much while you and him walked to the aquarium.

*****

Satoru felt a self-conscious feeling kick in when the two of you bumbled through the aquarium together.

Hand gestures flew between the two of you. You shared confused faces which were followed by laughter. It felt like you were playing charades at some point.

Sometimes Satoru would say "uhh" for so long after saying one English word that he'd start smiling and laughing at himself.

He'd end his incomplete thought with "You know?" and you'd shake your head and start laughing, "I have no idea." you'd reply.

Then Satoru would use google translate, practicing each word under his breath.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

While waiting for you by the aquarium bathrooms, Satoru practiced asking "Can I kiss you?" over and over. He paced around and muttered under his breath.

It's not that he couldn't pronounce it, it's just that he wanted it to sound less stiff and more emotional.

I want to kiss you with desperation, not I want to kiss you with dullness.

An old man who looked about ninety blinked at Satoru and wondered why this young man was pacing back and forth while practicing romantic English phrases.

("What are you doing?") he asked Satoru.

("Learning to speak English.") Satoru replied.

("Why?") the old man asked.

("Because the girl I like speaks English. I'm waiting for her right now.") Satoru replied.

("Well, I teach English. I don't think you should ask to kiss her, that’s too direct. If the universe wills it, you two will fall into a kiss and it will just happen.") he advised.

("I don't really believe in the stars bringing people together. I want to kiss her whether or not the universe wills it.") Satoru said.

("You've got it all wrong. The stars really do bring people together. I'm sure the same stars that brought her to Japan will also bring her to your lips.") the old man said.

("... are you a poet, too?")

You came out of the bathroom. The ethereal aquarium light lit your face beautifully.

("Oh... is that girl the one you are in love with?") the old man noticed you.

Satoru looked at you. His cheeks warmed up.

("Yes, that's the girl I'm in love with...") he replied dreamily.

("It's no wonder. Well then, good luck.") the old man said.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

It felt like the aquarium was a whole other world, like a paradise in a bottle corked shut, one which only you and Satoru could exist within.

He watched the spin of aquatic life with you in silence. You seemed captivated.

The back of his hand brushed against your arm.

背が高すぎるんです。

I'm too tall.

Satoru's hand trembled a little.

どうすれば彼女の手を握ることができますか?

How can I hold her hand?

Satoru had to be tactful about it.

He awkwardly bent his knees a little to shorten himself.

Then he poked the back of your hand softly to get your attention, blatantly hinting to you that he wanted to hold your hand.

So you offered him your hand and then he seized it like a treasure being presented to him. His lips grew into a smug smile.

You saw him go red in the face, even in the dimness and blueness of the aquarium light.

つまりこれが愛なんだ？

So this is love?

You and him gently held hands and stood in front of the tall glass of the jellyfish enclosure.

The room was dark blue, but the enclosure lights lit up the see-through sea creatures with a magenta color.

It felt like a sight you could stare at forever and ever and always be at peace; magenta jellyfish pulsing then drifting then pulsing again, their bell-shaped bodies and tentacles behaving like a chiffon dress in water.

クラゲのようにあなたの愛の中で漂いたい。

I want to float in your love like a jellyfish.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

You and Satoru held hands as if your hands were glued to each other.

While exploring the map in the afternoon, he stayed at your side like a magnet. If he lost your hand, he immediately searched for it and held it again.

The summer heat got intense. He sweated more than you did, but even still looked attractive and fresh. To cool off, you and him searched for cold things to eat.

"Uhhh — do you want to eat shave ice?" he asked.

"Mhm, sounds good." you nodded.

So the two of you went on a long, long search for someone selling shaved ice and eventually found one. You zoned out a bit while enjoying his voice.

Satoru mentally kicked himself because even though he thought he was prepared for this date with you, he forgot to bring extra money. He could only get one cup of shaved ice.

"What flavour?" he asked you.

You told him cherry, so he got cherry.

The two of you shared it. It made his lips go red and cold.

真っ赤で冷たい唇でキスできたらいいのに。それは冬のキスのようなものでしょう。

I wish I could kiss you with red, cold lips. It would be like a winter kiss.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

The train shuddered.

You'd noticed that Satoru always kept his knees together when sitting next to you — to give you space. But now after holding hands, closeness was being chased and chased; the both of you scooted closer together and tried to translate your thoughts to each other with the phone.

Satoru typed in:

JPN : 私たちはくっついています。

ENG : We are stuck together.

You chuckled softly in response. His eyes always lit up and he really relished in making you laugh, even if it was just a soft chuckle.

You replied to him:

ENG : you are warm.

JPN : あなたは暖かいです。

He replied to you:

JPN : そう、あなたのせいで。

ENG : yes, because of you.

You replied to him:

ENG : are you flirting?

JPN : イチャイチャしてるの？

Satoru gave you a cheeky smile.

JPN : うん、いちゃいちゃしてます

ENG : yeah, I'm flirting

You smiled as he continued typing. His thumbs hesitated, like he was nervous about what he was about to type next.

Satoru's heart was beating harder and harder in his chest.

JPN : 頬にキスしてもいいですか？

ENG : ! NO CONNECTION

You both groaned.

The connection kept failing from then on, so the two of you laughingly attempted to communicate by using the outdated pocket phrasebook for the rest of the train ride home.

"Kiss...?" he tapped his finger on his cheek.

You thought he meant he wanted you to kiss him on his cheek, but he meant to ask if he could kiss your cheek.

So he malfunctioned when you leaned in and gave him a small but firm kiss on his left cheek. His ears and cheeks burned.

こんなに柔らかい唇。。。

Such soft lips...

When you two stepped off the train, Satoru lingered behind you for a moment and grazed his fingertips over the place where you kissed and smiled to himself.

*****

The boys were talking about you at home while you were in the bathroom freshening up after the long, hot day out.

("Satoru, you're glowing. Did something good happen on the date?") Suguru smirked.

("She kissed me.") Satoru told him dreamily.

Suguru widened his eyes.

("She kissed you?!")

("Just on the cheek.") Satoru sighed, ("Her lips were so soft...")

("Were they now? I think you're exaggerating.") Suguru teased.

("I'm not exaggerating! Ask her for a kiss on the cheek, and you'll see; she has the softest lips ever.")

Suguru went quiet and pink in the face after Satoru suggested that he should ask you for a cheek kiss.

("Alright. I'll see for myself...") he mumbled.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

Come the evening, the three of you piled up like cats on the couch in the living room and watched an old movie together.

"Seems like someone's comfy." Suguru commented.

You smiled and looked at Satoru; he curled up against you with his noodle-like limbs and fell asleep mid-way through the movie. Your warmth had made him too drowsy and dreamy to keep his eyes open.

"You know, I was worried that we wouldn't have the same chemistry in real life as we've had through the screen." you said.

Suguru let out a breathy laugh and replied.

"Yeah, I thought it would be like that too. When I hugged you at the airport, though, I felt the same spark I felt when we first video-called." he said.

You felt your cheeks warm up the more he talked.

"...spark?"

"Huh?" he raised his brows.

"You said you felt a spark between us?"

Suguru's heart throbbed. He didn't seem to know how to respond, but then he decided to act a fool.

"Oh, did I say spark?"

"Yes, you did! You said spark, I heard you." you playfully smacked his shoulder.

He started grinning so he hid his mouth with his hand.

"Well, I think you heard wrong." he teased.

You looked at each other in silence.

"... hey, Suguru?"

"Yeah?" he replied breathlessly.

He withdrew his hand from covering his mouth and his face became serious.

"What were you two talking about earlier? I heard my name being tossed around a lot. You can't keep gossiping behind my back like this!"

"Oh... earlier? We weren't gossiping. Satoru was boasting to me about how soft your lips felt on his cheek." Suguru said.

"Boasting? You seem jealous." you said.

"Don't prod at me now just because you think I'm jealous."

"I will absolutely prod at you." you teased.

"I'd rather you kiss me." he said.

"What?"

"What?"

You looked at each other for a moment.

"Not like... on the lips." he backtracked.

"Oh."

"Satoru said I should ask you for a cheek kiss because I claimed he was exaggerating how soft your lips are."

"Well... he's not exaggerating." you teased.

"Oh yeah? I need proof."

"What kind of proof, Suguru?"

"Kiss me."

So you kissed his cheek very slowly.

He felt the press of your lips, and how damn soft they were, and thought to himself;

Shit. Her lips really are as soft as Satoru said they were.

When you pulled away, you asked "So? Are they as soft as Satoru claimed?"

"Soft enough." he teased.

"Soft "enough"?! What does that mean?"

"Soft enough to make me feel that "spark" again." he said.

"Huh?"

"Huh?"

You looked at each other with wide eyes.

Satoru made a wakeful noise.

「うるさい。」 he mumbled, then snuggled into you like you were his pillow.

"Oh. We woke the cat." Suguru joked. 「おい、バカ。あなたは映画全体を通して寝ていました。」

「残念な。」 Satoru replied and let out a sleepy sigh.

"Okay, let's get to bed... it's late."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

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Thank you for enjoying the story 💗

[lustylita]

Maintenance issues

MDNI ISTG-

“My poor needy Doe… Couldn’t even wait a day for my cock. Such a pathetic thing aren’t you sweetheart?” Grinning sadistically at the sounds of your choked out breathy moans filling the supply closet - that Alastor not-so-gently shoved you into just moments prior, the small space barely muffling the sounds of your slick being forced out of your cunt by the harsh way Alastor was thrusting his three fingers in and out of you.

“A-Ala- AH!” Eyes now blurred with tears you buckle, relying solely on Alastor’s hand that was holding one of your thighs up while he ‘preps’ you for his thick cock that you so desperately asked for with the other.

You couldn’t help it, he filled you so well!

“What's wrong, pet? Am i fucking you that well with my fingers that you can’t even speak? If you're so satisfied with this, maybe you don’t deserve my cock.” It was an empty threat, you knew that by the way Alastor’s cock twitched eagerly against your ass. But as always, a small part of you feared that he actually would  follow through with his threat this time.

“N-no Please Alastor! I need your cock in me so bad!” Shame long gone you weren’t against begging to get what you needed from the smug demon, pressing against his fingers a little shame did come back to you as you looked down at the small puddle he had managed to make underneath you with your eager slick.

Inhaling sharply Alastor observed you hungrilly, the way your hitched leg made your black skirt stretch deliciously over your things, your breasts out from when he ripped your shirt open earlier - bouncing with every thrust of his fingers, you were so small compared to him and it made him so excited to see you already overwhelmed just from his claws.

“Hmm…” Spinning you around abruptly Alastor picks you up, caging you against one of the walls in the small closet, he grinds his cock up through your folds and stops at your clit as he begins to rub his tip against it, the action causing the both of you to groan out at the mutual pleasure, after a moment of collecting himself Alastor peers down at you - a big mistake on his part since as soon as his hungry eyes lock with the pleading teary gaze of you makes him buck his hips involuntarily, burying himself to the hilt effortlessly.

ENJOY THIS! HAHA

[xythlia]

< WATCHMEWATCHMEWATCHME >

Diavolo/f!reader/Lucifer

𓏲 ࣪₊ cw : humiliation, cucking, fingering, cervix fucking, nipple pinching, m masturbation, choking, drool, dumbification,

First part of my 1k celebration! based entirely on an absolutely nasty dream I had once that I've never been able to shake >.< cuck luci in my heart 4ever sorry for any mistakes it's 3 am & just not my business anymore

Lucifers fingers ached, the need to clench and flex them growing by the minute. Being relegated to the position of silent observer was a new one, an idea put forth by the ever charming prince and between honeyed words and reassurances Diavolo managed to get you to agree.

He had to admit it was a bold proposal, Lucifer never expected you to agree but being seated here now with an ever growing erection was a pleasant surprise.

"Oh come now, I know you can do better than that," Diavolos teasing tone tore him from his thoughts.

He almost can't help the moan threatening to slip past his lips at the sight, the obscenity of watching made his heartbeat quicken as he sat forward.

You trembled in the soft glow of the lamplight, pussy spread by Diavolos skilled fingers as he toyed with you. It was thrilling to watch those fingers slide inside, the slow way they disappeared as your own fingers dug into the backside of your thighs as you held them up.

Gasps and whimpers came from you, eyes screwed shut against both the feeling of Diavolos fingers scissoring against your slick walls and against Lucifers piercing gaze. It felt like he was pinning you against the bed without laying a hand on you. Shyness clung to your skin like a sheen of sweat.

"Please Dia," you whined. It was all the more embarrassing considering they were both fully clothed while you were a squelching spectacle on the mattress.

"Hm? Don't tell me you're feeling embarrassed?" The question was punctuated by his fingers withdrawing, swiping through the sticky mess of arousal before slowly circling your throbbing clit. "You're already making such a mess, you like being watched don't you?"

Your eyes flick between the princes face, hunger and glee evident on his features, and Lucifers. Lurched forward, gloves hands fisted against his trousers and eyes so transfixed on your cunt it made your walls spasm around nothing.

You're so focused on Lucifer you failed to notice Diavolo undoing his own slacks to palm at his thick, flushed cock, smearing the beaded precum along the red swollen tip with his thumb before sliding through your wet folds. The touch is what snapped your focus back on him, moaning just from the anticipation of having him inside you.

He wastes no time lining up with your entrance, pushing the head down with his thumb before you feel it pop inside you, pushing against the band of muscle as your body slowly accepts each inch of mind numbing girth. The stretch feels agonizingly slow, the anticipation of fullness makes you twitchy so you let go of your legs to cup your breasts and rub your peaked nipples.

You know he's watching you, and slowly your earlier embarrassment melts away as Diavolos hips meet yours once he bottoms out, heavy balls resting against your ass as he kneads your thighs.

"Don't they look beautiful just like this?" He says with a grin as your cunt squeezes around his cock. You barely make out Lucifers hoarse whisper of yes, letting your head loll to the side to see him palming his clothed erection. A shiver of thrill crawled down your spine.

"They look so wet," he speaks as if in a trance.

"Mhm, practically dripping," he grunts, rolling his hips in a smooth thrust, pushing your legs back up to give Lucifer a peek of his cock being sucked back in by your needy cunt. The way he prodded against your cervix without even intending to, he was just that big, makes you yelp and dig your nails into his broad shoulders.

Your mouth dropped open in silent moans as his pace gradually picked up, the smack of skin on skin and the way you squelched with each inward movement forming a perverted melody in the dim bedroom. The whole scene made Lucifers head spin, hands moving of their own accord to free himself of his slacks and briefs, shamelessly pumping his fist up and down his cock in longing. Wishing he'd been invited as a participant rather than a spectator.

Diavolos hands wandered to pinch and tweak at your nipples, making you yelp and squirm against the bed. A wicked grin graced his lips.

"You're so sensitive, little one," he coos at you while twisting the bud of one breast slightly harder, enough to make your body jerk.

He's enjoying this far too much, indulging in making a mess of your body and enjoying putting on a show for his dear friend whom he knows is practically salivating imagining slipping his cock inside your fluttering pussy.

It spurs him on even more, thrusts settling into a brutal rhythm, each stroke of his cock practically a gut punch that forces the air from your lungs as tears start sliding down your cheeks. His tip making a home against your cervix with each steady kiss against it.

Your eyes have taken on a glassy, unfocused appearance which he relishes in as one large hand comes to caress your throat before his thumb digs against your pulse point. The lightheadedness mixes with the electric rush of pleasure, not caring that your tongue was poking past your lips and saliva threatened to drip from the corners of your mouth

It's exquisite to watch, a display of debauched utter submission that makes Lucifers cock twitch in his grasp. Hideous longing makes his fist move faster against his dick, pressure building to a boil inside his gut with each slap of those weighty balls against your ass.

Your thigh muscles were starting to scream as your body jostled up and down with the princes thrusts, the first sparks of orgasm threatening to burn you from the inside out.

"I want you to show him how pretty you look when you cum," Diavolo says through gritted teeth.

That's all it takes, as his hand quickly releases your neck and the blood rush slams into you with your orgasm right on its heels. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, each clamp of your cunt punctuated with a teary blubber of his name as your back arches against the mattress.

As he keeps furiously thrusting inside you your bleary eyes find Lucifer once again, hazily watching cum spurt against his hand and the ragged way his chest rises and falls.

The only thing left in your ecstasy dumbed mind is one rapidly cycling thought: watch me, watch me, watch me.

[fairyhaos]

seventeen and babysitting kids

ib the return of superman w svt bc i watched all the eps w jeonghao + junshua recently and it made me soft :((

masterlist

seungcheol:

better with kids than some of the others, but cautious. has the experience to take care of the child, but he's worried about coming off as too mean or harsh bc he's used to dealing with grown men with the mannerisms of children instead of actual children n he's too afraid of making the children cry if he's too strict w them. is very Parent when it comes to looking after the child, like, literally acts like their mom and makes them eat their vegetables and fusses over them when they spill something and makes sure they go to bed on time. the efficient person when it comes to looking after children

jeonghan:

he's so sweet. maybe a little too sweet bc as soon as the child is making the slightest whining noises he's dropping everything and doing aegyo or getting out all the toys or offering snacks bc god forbid a child starts crying in his care :((( good at being all gentle wheedler when he's exhausted out of his mind tho but he's just so weak that he doesn't do it often. lets them stay up half an hour past their bedtime. plays hide and seek with them a total of twelve times in a row. he's exhausted by the end of it, but the parents are smiling and the child is telling them how much they adore jeonghan and really that makes it all worth it for him

joshua:

the adorable uncle!! spends fifteen whole minutes explaining his name to the child, before giving up and telling them to call him jisoo. which leads to even more confusion bc he has two names???? what???? very excitable, but also clueless. he's an only child, what can he say? lets the kid get away with most things. when he inevitably exhausts himself two hours in by going way too hard while playing chase, he speaks in a cutesy tone and tries to convince the child to play some more sitting down activities. it always works, and honestly even tho he's terrible at puzzles it's better than going thru fitness training for five hrs straight

junhui:

eagerly participates in the child's made up games! pretends he's a superhero spy with them, pretends he's a magic prince(ess) with them, pretends they're pirates and encounter a ginormous sea monster with them. forgets to feed the child dinner because they're too busy playing, and so he lets them eat a whole hour after their bed time and because they're so late it takes ages to wash up and tuck the child into bed and eventually, the kid is only just going to sleep and it's three am and the parents are pulling up to the front of the house. but it's okay, because the child had fun and junhui had fun too

hoshi:

loves it the most when the children pretend they're animals. or if they have animal toys. managed to get into a fight with one of the kids once bc they wanted to be a tiger and soonyoung insisted that only he could be a tiger. almost made the child cry before eventually agreeing that they could both be tigers. gets hungry really quickly, so he ends up eating half of the child's dinner, then gives them loads of junk food to compensate for it. bad idea though, because now he has a child that's bouncing off the walls and it takes him hours to convince them to Not try and be spiderman and climb the walls and to Please get into bed because your parents are going to be home any minute and they are going to Obliterate me if you're still up

wonwoo:

he's chill. acts like a ghost that's simply observing the child's movements. only speaks when they start doing something they shouldn't or when it's time for dinner or when they should go up and get ready for bed. sometimes plays with the child if they ask him really nicely, but most of the time he's zoned out and staring at the wall, letting the child do whatever they want (so long as it's within the rules that he's been given)

jihoon:

awkward with children. doesn't know what to do. introduces himself and then holds out his hand for the child to shake. sits on the couch like he's ready to bolt any second. ends up putting the tv on for the child so that the silence in the room isn't too deafening. definitely warms up more as the night goes on, and ends up engaging in conversation with the child about how their life is at school. he forgets the names of all the children that the kid mentions though so he has no idea who has drama with who and how they're all connected but he nods and frowns and gasps in what he hopes are all the right places

minghao:

he loves children. so eager to play with them, encourages them to introduce all their toys to him and their histories and their relationships. shows them his cool hand tricks, has them gaping at him in awe for several minutes after. he's very shy, surprisingly, so desperately wanting to be all hyper and loud with the child but worried it will come off as too excitable. tries to teach the child better habits, too, talking to them about handling emotions and how emotional manipulation w tears will Not work on him, nice try. makes sure they eat their greens, and helps them brush their teeth as they get ready for bed. reads them a book and does one last finger trick before patting them on the head goodnight <;3

mingyu:

dramatic. big baby. literally acts like a child too. by the end of the evening, he's made a new friend and has pinky promised thrice that he'll come over some time for a proper play date with them. lets the child do whatever they want, with him and just in general. doesn't force the child to eat their greens bc honestly he finds those yuck too, and lets them go to bed later bc they gave him the most adorable puppy eyes and he's weak for that. reads them like five bedtime stories, acts out two of them, and would have definitely sung a song as well if he hadn't gotten a text saying the parents were coming home. rated 10/10 by all the children he's looked after

dokyeom:

the sweetest :(((( literally the most adorable with kids. treats them as if they're his younger siblings. is unintentionally doing aegyo the entire time he's with them bc he's just being influenced by so much cuteness all around him that he does it too. lets the child play with his hair, his clothes, his fingers. does the child's hair for them when they ask, and throws them into the air so many times that the child is almost sick all over him. plays hide and seek several times, two of which he was the one hiding from the child. almost forgets to put the child to bed, but then tucks them in really nicely and sings to them so sweetly. can't leave the room until the child falls asleep tho bc they insisted on grabbing onto his fingers and won't let go bc they're afraid he'll go away :((

seungkwan:

very fussy over children. dotes on them like he's a rich musty aunt, pinching their cheeks and calling them adorable every five seconds. participates in their made up games, but is hit with reality minimum three times every game bc even though he loves pretending he's a princess dressed in a pink and purple dress, it does feel weird when reality slaps you across the face. very good at Following the Schedule, and becomes almost sergeant-like while the child is brushing their teeth, standing over them and measuring the time to make sure they're doing it correctly. kisses the child on the forehead goodnight, giving their cheeks one last squeeze before tucking them in for the night

hansol:

kinda just there to have food. he's good with children tho, paying the right amount of attention to them and making all the exaggerated facial expressions that they adore. finds kids rlly adorable, but also just kinda sits there n munches on snacks half the time. asks the child how much english they know, quizzes them on the numbers from 1 to 100. all in all he's pretty good with children, feeding them on time and getting them to bed on time. ends up being so good that they fall asleep a long while before the parents come home, so he's just kinda sitting on the couch n staring at the wall for a while

chan:

literally acts like a child too (2). great with kids and matches their energy immaculately. isn't really into dressing up or chasing, but he's great at made up games and board games. once spent the entire evening playing snakes and ladders, bc it was a tense match okay and he was sure the child had to be cheating bc how were they always ahead of him?? makes sure they eat their food properly + very good at convincing them their veggies taste delicious. watches the child jump on their bed for a solid ten minutes, despite having been given express instructions to Not let the child jump on the bed, but really, how can he say no when theyre so adorable?

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @hanniehaee @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @jeonghanfr

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 2

Authors Note: Hello lovely people! I am very eagerly working on this series, so here is chapter 2 for you, much earlier than I had promised, but I can’t resist!! I hope you enjoy this! Many many more parts to come! :)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : Since settling into your new role as ‘helper’ at Jujutsu High, you have gotten to know the people there quite well. With Gojo’s attention still notably fixed on you, people begin to notice. But more importantly, Gojo has decided he wants you doing more than just playing ‘helper’, so he makes you his student.

Word Count : 4.6k

Warnings : none (for this chapter, wink wink), just some fluff and some slight seggsual tension ;)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A few days had passed since the tests confirmed your innocence, and Gojo continued to check up on you almost every day. It had become something of a routine—he’d stroll into the common area, sometimes during a break from his other duties, finding you with a book in hand. At first, you’d offer a small smile and return to your reading, but over time, those brief encounters stretched into longer moments of conversation.

Gojo, though always quick with a teasing remark or playful grin, seemed to let his guard down just a little more around you. His relaxed posture, the way he lingered near you, and the almost lazy drawl of his voice—it felt like he was more at ease when it was just the two of you. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he even realized it, or if it was intentional. Still, his presence had become a constant in the otherwise unfamiliar environment of Jujutsu High.

You spent your days helping out wherever you could. You weren’t a sorcerer, not by any formal training, but there were small tasks around the school—organizing supplies, preparing training areas, or running errands for the students and teachers. It made you feel useful, even if there was still a nagging sense of uncertainty about your place here.

The first-years had quickly became a part of your routine as well. Yuji’s boundless energy made him easy to talk to, and his enthusiasm often lifted your spirits when you felt a little lost. Nobara, sharp and confident, made you feel like you belonged, even if she didn’t say it outright. Megumi, ever the quiet observer, wasn’t as talkative, but he would always give a nod of acknowledgment whenever your paths crossed.

It was Gojo, though, who seemed to always find time to check-in. And one day, after watching you help Yuji in the training area, he approached you with a new suggestion.

“You know,” Gojo began, his voice as casual as ever, “you could be a bit more useful if you learned how to use your cursed energy.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the bluntness of his words. “More useful?” you repeated, unsure if you should be offended or if this was just Gojo’s typical way of speaking.

He grinned, leaning back against a nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like you have a lot of cursed energy, but there’s enough for me to teach you the basics.”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. You had always been able to see curses, a fact that had never really made sense to you, but you had no real knowledge of cursed energy, let alone how to use it. “Why would I need to learn? I’m not a sorcerer.”

Gojo’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something in his tone, a subtle shift when he answered. “It’s always good to be prepared. Never know when you’ll need to defend yourself.”

You considered his words, but something about the way he was looking at you—the casual air not quite masking the intent behind his suggestion—made you wonder if there was more to it. Still, you didn’t argue.

“Alright,” you said finally, “I’ll give it a try.”

—

A few days later, the training session was set up. Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara gathered in one of the training rooms, eager to see what you were capable of. You stood in the center, feeling a bit out of place as their eyes watched you intently. Gojo, of course, lounged against the wall, arms crossed as always, that ever-present grin on his face.

“Okay,” Gojo called out, “show us what you’ve got.”

You glanced nervously around the room. “What do you mean? I don’t know how to use cursed energy.”

Gojo pushed off the wall and sauntered over to you, his presence commanding as always. He stood just a little too close, the scent of his cologne filling the air between you. “That’s why we’re here,” he said, leaning in slightly. “To see if you’ve got any potential.”

He guided you through a few basic exercises, trying to help you focus on sensing and controlling the cursed energy within you. Despite your best efforts, though, it was clear that whatever cursed energy you had was limited, and you struggled to manifest it in any meaningful way. Gojo remained patient, though, his teasing remarks never far from the surface.

“Come on,” he said at one point, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re not trying hard enough.”

“I am!” you protested, feeling a bit flustered by his closeness and the way his blindfolded gaze seemed to pierce right through you.

He chuckled, leaning in even closer. “Then stop thinking so much and just feel it. Cursed energy flows through you—if you overthink it, you’ll block it.”

Before you could respond, Yuji interrupted with an eager question, pulling Gojo’s attention away. You let out a small breath of relief, grateful for the brief reprieve from his intense focus.

After a while, the first-years moved on to spar with the upperclassmen, leaving you and Gojo alone in the training area. He approached you again, this time more serious as he explained how cursed energy worked—how it flowed within everyone, like a current, and how it could be manipulated.

“You have to feel it,” he said, his voice low as he stepped even closer. “It’s not just about thinking or trying. You need to sense how it moves inside you.”

Gojo reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your upper arm, and you felt a jolt of something unfamiliar course through you. His touch was light, but it seemed to direct your attention inward, toward the cursed energy you could barely sense.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “That’s cursed energy. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

You nodded, your focus narrowing on the sensation. It was faint, like a small current running beneath the surface, but it was there, just as he said.

“Now,” Gojo continued, stepping a little closer, “you need to guide it. Imagine it like a stream of water. You can’t force it to go where you want. You have to let it flow naturally, but give it direction.”

His words were calm and measured, and despite the strangeness of the situation—Gojo standing so close to you, his touch lingering on your arm—you found yourself concentrating. You took a deep breath and tried to follow his instructions, focusing on the subtle pulse of energy within you.

It was difficult at first. Your mind kept wandering, doubts creeping in. What if you couldn’t do it? What if you didn’t have enough cursed energy to make any real difference? But then you heard Gojo’s voice again, this time softer, almost reassuring.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said, as if reading your thoughts. “Just feel.”

You closed your eyes, shutting out the distractions around you, and focused solely on the sensation of cursed energy within you. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you felt it begin to move, like a slow trickle of water being directed through your body.

“There you go,” Gojo’s voice was soft, and when you opened your eyes, you saw the faintest flicker of pride in his expression.

You blinked, surprised at the small success. It wasn’t much—just a slight manifestation of cursed energy—but it was more than you had managed before.

“I… I did it,” you whispered, hardly able to believe it.

Gojo grinned, that familiar smirk returning. “Told you you could.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of accomplishment swelling in your chest. It wasn’t a grand victory, but it was progress, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, you allowed yourself to feel genuinely happy. You had always been able to see curses, but using cursed energy? That was something entirely different.

The moment was short-lived, though. Just as you began to revel in your small success, the door to the training area slid open, and Nanami walked in, his usual stern expression in place.

Gojo straightened, his playful demeanour shifting into something more professional. “Nanami,” he greeted, though the grin never quite left his face.

Nanami glanced between the two of you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before addressing Gojo. “I came to check on the progress. Has there been any more information regarding the site where she was found?”

Gojo’s smile faltered, just slightly, as he shook his head. “Nope, nothing new. But y/n’s learning to use cursed energy, so we’re making progress on that front.”

Nanami’s gaze returned to you, assessing. It wasn’t unkind, but it held the weight of someone who had seen too much and knew better than to trust easily. “And what about her memory? Has there been any improvement?”

You shook your head, feeling a small knot of anxiety form in your stomach. “No… I still don’t remember anything about how I ended up there.”

Nanami frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s concerning.”

Gojo waved a hand dismissively, stepping between the two of you as if to deflect the tension. “Hey, she’s harmless. We’ve put her through enough tests to know that by now.”

Nanami wasn’t so easily swayed. “Tests are one thing, but we still don’t know how or why she was in that area. There’s no explanation for the disappearance of the cursed energy, and we need to be thorough.”

There was a pause as Nanami’s words sank in. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and for a moment, you felt as though you were right back in that dark forest, cold and alone. But before the anxiety could take hold, Gojo spoke again, his voice calm but firm.

“She’s telling the truth,” Gojo said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “And she barely has enough cursed energy to be dangerous. If anything, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Nanami’s eyes flicked to Gojo, his expression unreadable. “You seem awfully sure of that.”

Gojo shrugged, his grin returning, though there was an edge to it now. “Call it a gut feeling.”

Nanami sighed, clearly not satisfied but willing to let it go for now. “Fine. But we’ll need to continue investigating. There’s too much we don’t know.”

With that, he turned and left the training area, leaving you and Gojo alone once again.

The tension in the air eased slightly as Gojo relaxed back into his usual posture, hands in his pockets, his grin firmly in place. “Don’t mind him,” he said, casting a glance at the door where Nanami had exited. “He’s always like that.”

You nodded, though the unease lingered. “Do you really think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Gojo’s expression softened, just a little. “Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, you’re here now, and we’ll figure it out.”

There was something in his tone that reassured you, even though the situation was far from resolved. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence settling comfortably between you.

Then, after a beat, Gojo stepped closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “Besides,” he said, his usual playfulness returning, “you’re stuck with me as your teacher now. So you might as well get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

Gojo’s grin widened. “Exactly.”

—

Over the next few days, the training sessions continued, with Gojo always finding a reason to check in on your progress. Most of the time, he brought along Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi to participate or observe. It wasn’t unusual for him to turn these sessions into group activities, though it became clear that his focus always circled back to you.

One afternoon, you stood in the courtyard with the first-years, watching them spar. Gojo leaned against the nearby railing, arms folded over his chest, his blindfold covering his eyes but doing nothing to hide the lazy smirk on his lips. You caught his glance from the corner of your eye, but you tried not to react, focusing instead on Yuji and Megumi’s sparring.

“You’re doing fine, y/n,” Gojo whispered, though you hadn’t done anything yet. The remark earned a confused glance from Nobara, who was working on target practice nearby You shifted awkwardly on your feet, the pressure of Gojo’s attention making your pulse quicken. He had a way of drawing attention to you without even trying, as though his very presence magnified yours. You hoped no one noticed the heat creeping up your neck.

“Don’t stand there watching like a scared rabbit,” Gojo added, his gaze not shifting from Yuji and Megumi. “You’ll learn faster if you jump in.”

“I’m not exactly sure how to—” you started to say, but Gojo interrupted with a teasing grin.

“I wasn’t asking.” His tone was playful but firm. “C’mon, y/n. Show us what you’ve learned!”

Reluctantly, you stepped forward into the center of the makeshift sparring ring, your stomach tightening with nerves. Yuji stood across from you, looking slightly hesitant himself. “It’s okay if you can’t use cursed energy yet,” he said, rubbing the back of his head and smiling. “We can take it easy.”

You gave him a warm smile, but Gojo waved his hand in dismissal before you could respond. “No taking it easy. Y/n’s got potential. Right?” He turned to you, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically soft tone, just loud enough for you to hear. “Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it.”

There it was again—that strange mixture of teasing and encouragement that only Gojo seemed capable of. He was close enough now that you could feel his presence at your back, an almost tangible force urging you forward. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, his confidence in you made your heart race, and it stirred something within you, a determination to prove yourself.

“Alright,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Yuji shifted his stance, waiting patiently for you to make the first move. You tried to remember what Gojo had taught you about cursed energy—how it flowed like water, how you needed to guide it without forcing it. You closed your eyes briefly, focusing inward, trying to sense that elusive current within you.

“Don’t think too much,” Gojo’s voice floated to you, low and steady. “Just feel.”

You exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from your body, and for the briefest moment, you felt it—cursed energy, faint but present, bubbling just beneath the surface. You extended your hand toward Yuji, unsure if anything would happen.

To your surprise, a small ripple of cursed energy surged forward, barely enough to affect Yuji, but enough to be noticeable. Yuji jumped slightly, a look of surprise flashing across his face.

“Whoa, nice!” Yuji grinned, clearly impressed. “I felt that!”

Nobara crossed her arms, watching with mild curiosity. “Not bad. For a beginner.”

Megumi, on the other hand, remained quiet, but you could see the subtle lift of his eyebrow. He was hard to read, but you sensed that he was observing you more closely than before.

You blinked, stunned by the success. It hadn’t been much, but it was more than you had expected. Gojo’s hand lightly rested on your shoulder, his touch barely there but grounding nonetheless. “See?” he murmured. “Told you.”

His voice was calm, and when you glanced back at him, you saw a flicker of pride in his expression, hidden beneath the playful exterior. His grip lingered for just a moment too long before he casually pulled away, retreating to his spot by the railing.

“Alright, enough for today,” Gojo announced, clapping his hands together as if to close the session. “Let’s not wear y/n out too quickly. We’ll work on control next time.”

The first-years gathered their things, exchanging brief comments about the training session. Yuji patted you on the back, giving you an encouraging thumbs-up, while Nobara shot you a half-smile, as if to acknowledge that you had done better than expected. Megumi, ever quiet, nodded in your direction before heading off to his own training.

As the others dispersed, Gojo lingered behind, his usual carefree demeanour still in place. He waited until the courtyard was mostly empty before approaching you again, his hands casually in his pockets.

“You did well today,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

You met his gaze, though it was difficult to tell what he was thinking behind the blindfold. “I still have a long way to go.”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he replied with a shrug. “Besides, you’ve got me as a teacher. And I’m the strongest, so you’ll be fine.”

There was a lightness in his tone, but something in his attention had you curious. “You know,” you began, glancing at him, “people tell me you’re not usually this… encouraging.”

Gojo tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile curling at his lips. “People say a lot of things about me, don’t they?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his casual response, but his playfulness didn’t quite cover the fact that his encouragement, his focus on you, was more than you’d seen him offer others. There was something different in the way he was around you—something that felt like more than just a sensei’s responsibility.

“Well, maybe they’re right,” you countered, crossing your arms. “You’ve been extra nice to me lately.”

Gojo’s grin widened, and he took a step closer to you, blocking your path, his presence suddenly more noticeable. “Maybe you’re just worth the effort.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, and before you could think of a response, Gojo’s carefree laughter echoed through the courtyard. “Don’t forget you have paperwork to do for Yaga!” He said in a sing-song tone, giving you a casual wave as he strolled away, leaving you with a mix of confusion and curiosity swirling in your chest.

—

The following day, Gojo took the three first-years on a mission to exorcise a few curses at a community college just outside of Tokyo, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks. It felt strange not having Yuji’s energy or Megumi’s quiet presence nearby, but Shoko had given you some chores to keep busy. After a while, you wandered through the school grounds, enjoying the quiet until you heard the sound of sparring.

Curious, you followed the noise until you came across Panda, Inumaki, and Maki, deep into their training session. You hesitated at first, and tried to sneak away, but before you could leave, Panda spotted you.

“Y/N!” Panda called out, waving you over with his big paw. “Come join us!”

You approached with a small smile, trying to shake off your nerves. “I was just finishing up some chores, but I got curious when I heard all the noise.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” Panda laughed, his energy contagious. “How’s everything going? Adjusting alright?”

“I think so,” you said, grateful for Panda’s warmth. “It’s been a little overwhelming, but everyone’s been really helpful.”

Inumaki raised a hand in greeting and mumbled, “Salmon,” a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You waved back at him, appreciating his quiet kindness.

As the conversation continued, Maki stood on the sidelines, her arms crossed as she watched with a sharp, unreadable gaze. The longer the silence stretched, the more you felt her eyes on you, not unkind, but distant.

After a moment, Maki spoke up. “You’re still just watching?” Her tone was blunt, her gaze critical. “I thought you were supposed to be learning something by now.”

The comment made you pause. You weren’t sure if she was trying to provoke you or just being matter-of-fact, but there was an edge to her words that made you tense.

Panda chuckled nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. “Come on, Maki, Y/N’s still new here. She’s doing fine.”

Maki didn’t seem to care. She raised an eyebrow, her focus shifting back to you. “That right? Or are you just too scared to try anything?”

Her words struck a nerve. You could feel the tension rising in your chest, your fists clenching at your sides. You weren’t scared—not of the challenges in front of you, at least. You had been trying to learn, but Maki’s pointed tone made you feel like you were being judged.

You took a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m not scared,” you said, meeting her gaze.

Maki took a step forward, her stance unwavering. “Then prove it. Show me something, anything. Unless, of course, you’re all talk.”

Your frustration bubbled over. You’d spent weeks feeling out of place, constantly questioned, and now Maki was calling you out in front of the others. The pressure of her words mixed with your pent-up feelings, but you hadn’t intended to act on them. You were still new to cursed energy, after all—what could you possibly show her?

But as the frustration grew, something inside you stirred. Unintentionally, you felt a surge of warmth building in your hands. You hadn’t planned to release anything, but the more worked up you became, the harder it was to contain.

“I said I’m not scared!” you snapped, your emotions flaring. And then, without warning, your hands glowed with a faint blue light.

In a flash, cursed energy shot from your palms, not a deliberate attack, but more of a sudden, accidental release into the atmosphere. The energy crackled loudly through the air before dispersing just as quickly. Silence followed, and you froze, wide-eyed, as you realized what you’d done.

You hadn’t meant to—hadn’t even known you could—but there it was: proof that you weren’t just an observer. “Oh, I-I’m so sorry.” You said nervously, still in shock at what you had just done.

Maki’s eyebrows raised, a look of mild surprise crossing her face. Panda and Inumaki exchanged glances, equally caught off guard by the unexpected display.

Maki was the first to speak, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Not bad. Even if it was an accident.”

You blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. You hadn’t meant to release any cursed energy, but the rush of emotions had pushed it out before you could stop it. A mix of embarrassment and relief washed over you, but you couldn’t deny the small sense of accomplishment that came with it.

Panda clapped his paws together, beaming at you. “Whoa! That was impressive, Y/N! See, you’ve got more in you than you think.”

Inumaki nodded approvingly, giving you a thumbs-up as he muttered, “Tuna mayo,” his way of cheering you on.

Maki, who had been the hardest to win over, gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “Guess you’re not completely useless after all.”

Though her words were still sharp, there was a hint of respect beneath them. For the first time since meeting her, you felt like Maki had actually seen you—not as an outsider, but as someone who could hold their own, even if the cursed energy had slipped out by accident.

Only one thought lingered in your mind as you headed back to your room that day-you couldn’t wait to tell Gojo.

—

At the Community Collage: Over the past few weeks, the first-years had begun to notice Gojo’s subtle preoccupation with you. Whether it was during training or simply in passing, the moments where Gojo lingered just a bit longer near you were becoming more frequent. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi exchanged glances whenever Gojo was particularly attentive to you during group lessons, but none of them had yet to address it—until today.

As they walked through the courtyard, Gojo led the way with his usual relaxed swagger, he flicked his wrist and drew a veil over the area surrounding the college. The quiet hum of the barrier filled the air, signalling the start of their mission. For a moment, the group fell into silence, but Yuji, ever the curious one, couldn’t resist breaking it.

“Hey, sensei,” Yuji began, a playful glint in his eyes, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with y/n lately.”

Gojo, walking with his hands behind his neck, raised an eyebrow beneath his blindfold, clearly not fazed by the question. “So?” His tone was as unconcerned as ever.

Yuji shrugged, but his grin was hard to miss. “Just wondering if you’ve got a soft spot for her or something.”

Gojo didn’t miss a beat, his grin widening as he leaned closer to Yuji. His voice took on a teasing lilt. “Oh, absolutely. She’s just too cute, isn’t she?”

Yuji let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, looking towards the ground, “Uhh, I mean, yeah, obviously, but I mean, I-”

Gojo nodded and tilted his head back towards Yuji again as they walked. “But yes, Yuji, you’re right, she’s too old for you, you know, can’t let a 24-year-old girl go breaking your young, fragile heart.” He said, holding a finger to his lips as if acting out a dramatic scene.

Nobara, unimpressed by the entire exchange, rolled her eyes and shot her sensei a sharp glare. “Can you be serious for once? That’s not what he meant, and you know it.”

Megumi, trailing behind, sighed heavily. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Gojo chuckled at the reactions, clearly enjoying himself far too much. He straightened up, waving off their comments as if they were nothing. “What can I say? I’m a teacher. It’s my job to help.”

“You’re definitely doing more than helping,” Nobara muttered under her breath, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s kind of weird, honestly.” She knew it wasn’t that weird. After all, you were about eight years older than herself, Yuji, and Megumi, but she didn’t just want to seem like some nosey snob.

Gojo’s smile only grew, and he turned his head toward her with mock offence. “Weird? Me? I’m just a caring, attentive teacher. Right, Megumi?”

Megumi’s eye twitched, and he responded with a flat tone, “Don’t drag me into this.”

Yuji, grinned and gave Gojo a playful nudge. “You know, sensei, you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“Exactly,” Nobara chimed in, glaring at Gojo. “You’ve been acting weird since we found her. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively, his carefree attitude unwavering. “You all think too much. Focus on what’s important.”

Nobara huffed. “What, like why you’re so protective of her?”

Yuji opened his mouth to add another quip, but Gojo cut him off, his tone turning a touch more serious, though still laced with that usual Gojo charm. “What’s important,” he said, turning toward the group, “is that we’re about to encounter some pretty nasty curses. So unless you want to end up exorcised by them, I suggest you focus.”

The playful air dissipated quickly as the weight of Gojo’s words settled in. The first-years exchanged glances, their previous banter quickly fading as they straightened up, understanding the shift in tone.

Gojo, satisfied with the sudden silence, clapped his hands together and grinned. “Good. Now, that’s the focus I like to see. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Despite casually dismissing the students’ teasing, Gojo couldn’t quite shake the truth behind their words. As much as he played it off, something drew his attention to you. Even though he deflected their questions with his usual bravado, he found himself watching you more often than he cared to admit. When he thought no one was paying attention, his gaze would linger, noticing the small things—the way you moved, how you interacted with the students, the quiet determination in your eyes despite the confusion surrounding your situation.

There was a warmth in how he looked at you, a subtle shift from his carefree and mischievous exterior. It wasn’t just your looks that caught his attention—though he couldn’t deny those either. No, there was something else, something about you that intrigued him, that pulled him in. Maybe it was the mystery surrounding your presence, or maybe it was something deeper. Whatever it was, Gojo couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to be closer, to figure out exactly why he was so drawn to you.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside. There were too many questions left unanswered, and Gojo wasn’t one to dwell on feelings he couldn’t explain.

—

Author's Note II: Hope you enjoyed, I did lol. If anyone is curious in being added to a taglist, please send me a message :)

[ahhnini]

let you break my heart again - rafe cameron x reader

your relationship with rafe is nothing more than a twisted fantasy

warnings - fake dating, rafe breaks reader’s heart, fluff, angst, degradation (not in a kinky way), not proofread!

a/n - based off a dream I had of rafe, kind of in a writing slump so pls send in reqs! <3

when rafe cameron came knocking at your doorstep at two in the morning, face angry, you were more than confused. you two have never been that close, however, the forced proximity of figure eight led you two to form an acquaintance with another. when you had asked him what was going on, he barged into your house, gripping onto the sides of your shoulders like you were gonna fly away. he looked up at you, eyes red. then, you heard him say words that you didn’t think he’d ever utter to you, “I need you to be my girlfriend.”

so that’s how you ended up here, laughing with the camerons’ on their yacht, sailing the sea. it’s been a month since you’ve agreed to be rafe’s “girlfriend” and everyone on the island bought it. they’ve never known that much about you anyways, so when he started parading you around, everyone began to gossip how rafe cameron charmed the mystery girl of kildare island.

you felt a kiss on your cheek as you pour yourself another drink. “you doin’ okay?” rafe asks as he begins to pour himself a whiskey shot. you nod your head, looking up at him while he downs his drink, “good,” he wipes his lips, walking away to talk to his father. you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. this was harder than you thought, especially when you feel butterflies in your stomach every time he shows an ounce of affection to you.

you made a promise to yourself that this was definitely a no strings attached situation. he would get you around the island, introducing you to valuable connections, while his reputation would change to be a better one. it was a win-win. you didn’t really think about the other factors, like the fact that you’ve had a secret crush on the infamous kook prince since you were twelve.

you really shouldn’t be feeding into your delusions like this; it’s unhealthy. that’s what you keep telling yourself, but each time you see him, you can’t help but have a smidge of optimism, that he actually likes you, wants you.

your heart breaks in the serene island of guadalupe, tears streaming down your face as rafe yells at you in the costal house bedroom. “why would I ever like you, y/n! the only reason why we’re doing this is for my reputation, for my dad to trust me again, for me to show my family that i’ve changed! you don’t mean anything to me, stop thinking i’m actually in love with you, because i’m not! I don’t even think I’d wanna be friends with you,” he huffs, cornering you to a wall. he lifts your chin, observing your tear stricken face, “cry all you want, but that’s not gonna help me change the way I feel.” he backs off, turning around to enter the bathroom, “i’m gonna take a shower, clean yourself off, make yourself presentable. we have dinner in two hours.”

you sip on your latte, waiting for rafe to get back home. you sat like a wife who’s husband spent too much time in the office. except he wasn’t your husband, he was just…a guy. you hear the front door shut, immediately shuffling to greet him. “hey, what are you doin’ here?” he slurred, breath reeking of alcohol. “uh—wanted to make sure you got home safe, that’s all!” you fidgeted with your hands. he let out a soft hum, “you can spend the night if you want to, y/n, i’m going to topper’s,” you look up at him, meeting his dilated pupils, “wha—huh? you’re gonna drive to topper’s?” rafe rolls his eyes, nodding, “yeah, I am—” “no! I can’t let you do that, let me drive you, c’mon—” he sighs, giving in, and you thank the alcohol has made him less stubborn, “fine.”

you pulled up to topper’s house, the porch light on and inviting. you speak up after the silent drive there, “um—are you sure you want to spend the night at topper’s? we can always go back if you want” he shakes his head, turning towards you. “no, i’m sick of your shit, y/n. always treatin’ me like I can’t take care of myself. guess what,” he points at himself, “I can take care of my own shit, okay? I don’t need you,” he rushes out of the car, stumbling up the porch stairs, disappearing behind the house door.

you stay there for a couple of moments, sniffling. during the drive back to the camerons’—yes, you were staying the night, you needed to take care of rafe for when he was hungover—you reflected on your relationship with him. how one day he’d treat you like you were his queen, the next he’d treat you like you were dirt. you can’t stop your feelings, no matter how hard you tried to repress them, they always end up coming out. you know you don’t deserve this. you deserve someone who actually loves you, not someone who’s using you. but…rafe…you can’t imagine being with someone who’s not him. that night, you lay down on his bed, fantasizing the perfect life with rafe, waiting for him to come back tomorrow morning.

you swallow, telling yourself you’d be fine being with him, being in this arrangement. even if he’ll never love you back, you’d let him break your heart over and over again.

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