#i may draw him in other uniforms one day

[infernalisa]

rlly fast,,,, , super simple ,,,, kaito in his dorm uniform ;o

[anisespice]

“ accidents happen ” || tokyo rev.

cont.

synopsis: in which they discover you had their child and kept it from them all these years later.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, angst (if you squint really hard), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be errors lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: i just want the drama >:) may make more parts, and even extend said headcannons into longer fics in the future, but wanted to post something quick for mother’s day. hope you enjoy!

When you disappeared off the face of the earth, MIKEY had never been the same. One fight. One argument that spiraled out of control, and you were just gone...

He had people looking for you for about a couple years, the trail ran cold after a while and he had half a mind to think you were dead. Up until he got intel of your whereabouts one morning during a meeting.

That man got up and left immediately.

He wasn’t accompanied with any of his men, only because he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention in the broad daylight. Sure, him wearing a black hood, ball cap, and mask in a park didn’t really help him look inconspicuous but it at least concealed his identity enough for him to blend in. Mikey sat on a bench for a good forty minutes, anxious, making anyone who passed him shiver from his intense aura alone; even birds walked around him. After almost an hour of waiting, he began to feel frustrated. Perhaps, the intel was false. Just as he went to stand, already conjuring up ways to have Sanzu execute the idiot who wasted his time, he heard it.

Your voice. Seizing him, like a siren’s call.

His eyes were alert, darting around until they landed on your figure, spotlighted by the sun, like an angel descending from the heavens. You looked good, healthy. That was good. An array of emotions fought for their turn in Mikey’s heart—Relief, distress, anger, nostalgia. He couldn’t just pick one, especially when it came to you. As he watched from his spot, doing his best to not seem suspicious, he clocked the people you were approaching with excitement, your peppy stride as you waved at, what he presumed, to be mother and daughter.

However, his entire world turned upside down when the little girl extended out her arms towards you, and said “Mama!”

“Hello, my darling.~” You cooed, taking her into your awaiting arms from the woman, embracing the toddler tightly. “Mama missed you so much.”

“Missed you, mama!” was the child’s reply, followed by her giggles.

A bucket of cold water would’ve been better than this. Watching you converse with who he now assumes to be the babysitter, Mikey felt faint. Vision blurring, head pounding, heart clenching. You…you…no. There’s no way. You wouldn’t have moved on…you couldn’t have, not like this, not from him. You loved him, didn’t you? You still love him, didn’t you?

How could you…how could you?

Before he knew it, he started to follow you around. From the park, to the store, all the way back to your apartment. He already phoned some of the executives to start working in on the babysitter, and anyone else in your new found circle for information. He wanted answers. He needed them.

By the time you began fixing dinner, with your daughter laid down for a nap, you receive a knock at your door. Who could that be at this hour?

RAN was chilling outside the rendezvous spot for something the boss and a few other execs were participating in, having a smoke, minding his business, up until he sees a little girl with pigtails wearing a school uniform approaching, standing before him and just…staring. She barely came up to his thighs, could've been no older than seven. She was practically staring into his soul with bright lavender eyes that scarily reminded him of Rin’s when he was that age.

He stared back, head tilted as he blew out the smoke from the corner of his mouth. The hell was a kid doing on this side of town?

Then, after an uncomfortable staring contest, the little girl points at his cigarette. “My ma says those things are bad for you.”

Ran raised a brow, “Does she now?”

“Mmhm! She says it makes people unhappy.”

He offered a thoughtful nod, an amused grin spreading across his face. “Mm. Do I look unhappy?”

The girl looked at Ran for a minute, eyes squinted. Eventually, she shook her head. “No. But, ma also says people who are always unhappy get better at hiding it.”

Ran’s grin faltered. Her unwavering stare started to unnerve him, especially after hearing such a heavy statement come from such a small package.

After a brief moment of silence, he chuckled softly, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. He exhaled. “Smart woman.”

The little girl beamed, “Mmhm! My ma knows a lot of stuff.”

“Tsk. But not ‘Stranger Danger’, apparently.”

She tilted her head, curious. “Huh?”

“You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself, let alone approaching someone you don’t know. ‘s not safe. Especially for nosy little girls who stick their noses in other people’s business. Your ma never taught you that?”

The little girl rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “Duh. Of course she did. Everyone knows that rule,” she exasperated. Ran snorted, but yielded when she squinted at him, pointing as she sassed. “And I do so know you, so you’re not a stranger.”

This time, Ran couldn’t help the incredulous laugh. “Oh, you know me, huh? That’s not good. ‘m supposed to keep a low profile. Say, you ain’t a cop are you?” He teased, earning another eye roll.

“No. Too small to be a cop, dummy.”

“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t notice. Where do you know me from, then?”

The little girl pointed over to the building..where the executives were having their meeting. She beamed, “Ma’s works in there. On important people days she can’t get me from school, so she tells me to come straight here, and to not talk to the purple man that stands near the building. She says you’re mean.”

Ran smirked, then gave a half-hearted shrug.

“She also says you’re my pa. But, I never believed her. You’re too old.”

Ran’s smirk dropped.

Whether more from the first comment or the last, you decide. But, one thing was for certain: he needed another cigarette.

SANZU cackled watching some guy struggle to round up a couple of rowdy twins at the convenience store. One was knocking shit off the shelves while the other ran circles around the guy. It was what he needed for his bitch of a hangover, a good laugh to distract from the ache in his skull.

However, he wasn’t laughing for long when you came around the corner of the isle, holding a few items with a smile on your face that soon faded once you saw the scene unfolding before you; the pinkette thought he was still tripping balls. Blinking a few times to allow any after effects of the drugs to clear up, when you didn’t disappear he used his long legs to swiftly yeet behind one of the shelves, peering around it like some paranoid stalker. The last time you had spoken, you had threatened to castrate him with your teeth if you ever saw him again.

And he’d be damned if he tried your bluff.

He watched in awe as you straightened those twins up quick. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought they were trained to obey you, and only you. Any other authority be damned. While the guy was putting all the stuff back on the shelves, sweaty and out of breath, you gently reprimanded them for causing trouble. You still made that cute pouty face you always did whenever you were mad at him…

“What did we talk about earlier? Hm? Mr. Satoru was very kind to help mama today, you know. You two promised me you’d be on your best behavior for him.”

Sanzu gagged. This was the rebound you let nut in you? This huffy moron who can’t handle a couple of ankle biters, this was your king? He had half a mind to just gut the guy to put him out of his misery from that pathetic display from earlier, alone. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be back home. He remembers when he was that age—Rowdy, reckless, the Antichrist. Adorable, but deadly. God bless that poor bastard’s soul.

Wait…Mister? Not…dad?

The first twin whined, stomping their feet. “He’s too boringggg!”

Come to think of it…if Sanzu squinted…the longer he looked at the little family…he swore the more he saw the resemblance of himself in the tiny gremlins. From the hair, to the eyes, all the way down to the mannerisms…Hang on. When had been the last time you two fucked? Three…no, was it four years ago?

The second twin huffed, pointing at the man. “Yeah! And he’s jus’ being nice so that he can sleep in your bed, mama!”

You flushed, nervously chuckling as you looked around to make sure no one heard. Sanzu ducked behind a bag of chips, now nothing but eyes peeking through the gaps of food on the shelf.

So…that loser’s not the father? Then…could that mean..?

“He’s mama’s boyfriend, remember? He’s allowed to do that. And he’ll be around for a while, so I want you two to be nice, okay?”

“…okay, mama.” They grumbled.

Sanzu almost popped a blood vessel, fist clenched around a bag of Lays and nearly busting it. He chuckled darkly, “Oh. We’ll see about that.”

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved.

likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-two

759 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one

Eddie do you ever think about what you’re gonna do after high school? like how am i expected to know what i want to do with my life? i mean, i have another year to think about it but not that much can change in a year you probably wanna do something with music, right? make it big with your band and have people screaming your songs i’d go to every show if i could be your own personal groupie who knows? maybe that’s my calling p.s. have a good time at hellfire tonight i hope you win !!!!! -H

You’d think the win last night would put him in high spirits, and it did. At first. He celebrated with the guys, passed on the get together someone suggested, and drove home feeling proud. It was when he was laying in bed, though, that he started thinking. When he graduates, how often will he be able to ride a high like that? From pure accomplishment?

Steve puts on a brave face for morning practice. He doesn’t wanna drag anyone down with him. He goes through the motions of accepting congratulations and pats on the back from his peers and teachers alike all morning long. 

It only makes him think, though. 

Seriously, what comes after this? More school? Does he accept that internship at his father’s soul sucking company? Does he get a gob and jump right into adulthood?

What it really comes down to is the fact that Steve had never thought he’d have a future. Honestly. He’s getting closer and closer everyday to the next stage in his life, though. The years snuck up on him and now he has to deal with it. 

On a lesser scale, Steve doesn’t like thinking about what life will be like once Eddie graduates this coming May. How is Steve meant to tolerate this hellhole without him? Sure, he’d gone years without really noticing him, but now that he knows what it’s like to have a taste of him in his life, he doesn’t think he could go back. 

The whole thing makes his pulse quicken and sweat begin to bead at his hairline. By the time he makes it to art class, there’s a tension forming at his temples and he’s not looking forward to the headache. He doesn’t think he has it in him to act like everything’s normal. 

For once, Carol doesn’t acknowledge his foul mood. She’s too busy staring at Robin. For the portrait, of course. 

The teacher had informed them today the class is basically a free period and they can choose what to work on or what to not work on. 

Steve sits slumped over the table with his head resting on his folded arms. He kind of wishes Eddie hadn’t put the divider up and also that he had his sunglasses so he could stare at him without feeling weird about it. 

Instead, he rests his eyes and tunes into the sounds of pencil on paper surrounding him. He dozes for a while and has nearly fallen asleep when he’s awoken with a poke to his cheek. 

Steve peels his eyes open, but no one seems to be wanting his attention. There is, however, a piece of paper placed next to his left arm. 

It’s a drawing. 

A stick figure with tall swoopy hair and eerily realistic eyes. 

Steve looks to his left, only to find the culprit still hard at work with his face tucked behind the divider. 

Steve visually fills in the blank and surmises Eddie’s smile probably matches his own. 

Steve doesn’t dare fold the paper. He tucks it into the notebook he has to keep it safe. Throughout the rest of the day, he opens the book just to look at it. When he takes it home, he tapes it to a wall in his bedroom, somewhere he can always see it. 

Eddie did i ever tell you how sweet it is that your club has matching tees? i haven’t seen anyone who doesn’t do sports or the school band have a uniform but it makes sense that other clubs would, too you look good in black, don’t get me wrong, but GOD i thought i was gonna die the first time i saw yours so thanks for that also, while we’re on the subject of how hot you are,  you should wear your hair up more often p.s. sorry about the existential crisis on friday i wasn’t doing too good but i got a pick-me-up eventually <3 -H

twenty-three

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

[crystalflygeo]

Kinktober Day 2 - Shibari ft Alhaitham (Genshin Impact)

Google hishi karada under your own risk. That's it. That's the inspiration and GODS I want that hello????//HIT This one ended up longer than expected but also can you believe I wrote almost all of it on the bus/train omw home?? NICE

“Just saying, it’s an interesting use of the House of Daena’s resources. Coming from you, at least.” Alhaitham speaks nonchalantly, eyes glued to the book he’s holding in one hand as the other is currently held by you, crisscrossing red rope in a rather complex pattern as you glance back and forth at the book in your lap.

You give no answer, concentrated in your work. The rope draws lines and presses knots along his bicep, crossing over around the elbow and following down to his wrist.

Not too tight as to hurt.

Your brow frowns with little expression lines as you maneuver the rope into the last knot. This goes here, then pull there, cross here and tighten a little…

“There we go! What do you think?” You smile proudly scooting back a little, hands by your hips.

The Scribe finally diverts his attention from the calculus book he’s reading and looks at his arm with genuine interest, his green and terracotta gaze appraising. 

He flexes his arm a little, testing the give, and tilts his head just slightly as he looks at the pattern from different angles.

“How honest do you want me to be?” He asks simply. It’s a little game you two have.

“Um… 7? 8? It’s my first time, don't be too harsh” You reply with a little pout and puppy dog eyes.

He sighs. As if he could ever live with himself if he made you upset. “It’s not bad at all for a first time. The rope feels a little loose at some parts and the design is not fully uniform but the knots seem sturdy and well-executed. Perhaps you could have picked a simpler design however this one came through really well.” He assesses, sounding a little too much like a teacher but that’s why you find him endearing. Alhaitham is honest and direct. 

“Really? I’m happy then” You beam. “I picked this one because I thought the diamond pattern was pretty… and it kinda fits you” You giggle, turning to the book and gesturing at the drawings and diagrams, blushing a little.

Alhaitham knows how to read between lines. Clearly, you have pictured him tied up like this.

Or perhaps… yourself?

“May I try now?” He asks suddenly, closing his book and setting it aside.

“H-huh?” 

“A fair trade, I was your guinea pig, so now you’ll be mine. And you’ve caught my interest with this.” He says with a casual shrug. His expression as stoic as ever, in a way that no one could read his thoughts.

But you know him better than anyone, and you catch that little glint in his eye. 

“Sure… of course.” You nod dumbfounded.

The two of you undo the knots around his arm and you gather together the strings of rope. Alhaitham picks up the book and quickly flips through the pages with a certain decisiveness. 

He suddenly stops, thinks for a moment, his hand smoothing out the page. “Are you ok with a full chest harness?” 

“Um?” You scoot over and glance at the book. It’s a beautiful design. Doesn’t look too overly complicated but you have learned they can be deceiving in practice. 

It has a diamond design too.

“Ok, I have no issue.” You nod. 

He places the book close by, picks a rope checking the length and starts working. He first loops it around your neck and slowly starts weaving the strands. This one requires almost no knots it seems, just the rope pulling on itself from different angles to keep it balanced and create the diamond shapes.

You watch silently, the scribe checks with you on every step, if it’s too tight, hurting or pulling at something. You shake your head every time. He diligently creates the wrapping around your chest and down your tummy and hips. 

It’s hypnotizing, soothing in a way, but also has your nerves alight. 

Finally he reaches the spot around your crotch and you suddenly feel hyperaware as he loops the rope around your inner thighs, digging on the delicate skin of your groin. The ropes crumple at the skirt of your dress.

You squirm a bit as he ties the final knot behind you. Bringing everything together and securing it. “There, all done.” He declares pulling back a little. “I must admit I’m impressed, looks even better than I expected.” 

You move around and test his handiwork. The rope is snug on your skin, thigh enough it will surely leave light marks for a while, but not enough to be painful or chafe your skin. The sensation is… comfortable, flexible. But also so… noticeable. You feel the slight pressure of them, the teasing pull. They’re just there, impossible to ignore, binding you. And you can see the erotic appeal.

Reverent hands ghost over the patterns of ropes going around your body, teasing you with feather-light touches. ‘Adjusting’ here and there, meticulous, bushing at your chest or pulling at your neck. 

“Alhaitham…” You whine. Keenly aware of your nipples hardening.

“You know, I could loop some more rope going from the back and bind your arms too. Or… add a similar tie at your legs… keeping your thighs and calves together and your legs spread. This diamond pattern has many varieties.”

And so, it dawns on you.

“Y-you… have you read about this before?” 

He chuckles, hands smoothing over your legs as he leans closer to you. “Yes. In fact… I borrowed this exact same book once.” He smirks “When I saw you with it, I knew I simply had to try this tie on you. It rather captivated me back then… but it captivates me much more on you.” 

His thumb rubs over the damp spot in your panties and you squeak, hips bucking.

“Bastard. Mean. Evil. Y-you lied to me!” You sputter, flushed and worked up at having fallen in his trap. Clearly he had planned this from the start and here you are now, all tied up like his prey. His little prize. 

His hand tilts your chin up towards him, his face close making your cheeks even warmer. “I did no such thing.” He says, sounding a little playful even. “Nothing of what I said was untrue, and especially not the part about you looking absolutely enthralling like this.” His eyes roam over your figure, and this time, you see the hunger. 

his fingers hook on the rope between your breasts and he pulls you into his lap.

“Perhaps I should keep you like this for a little longer…”

[simpforboys]

in for the long haul

xavier x fem!addams!reader

summary: you’re the daughter of fester and attend nevermore. xavier tries to fight for your heart no matter how long it may take.

warnings: kinda angsty, fluff ending, reader is goth (just like me fr), swear words, xavier is such a simp

works for both blood related or adopted daughter (whatever your imagination desires) as there’s no physical descriptions

IM SO PROUD OF THIS PLS

ever since your father had been keeping a low profile, you had been staying with your aunt morticia and uncle gomez.

your father knew it would be the best option for you. hanging out with your cousins, pugsley and wednesday, should be fun, right?

but after too many troubles with wednesday, morticia decided to send you both to nevermore academy.

wednesday had taken a strong hatred for the place from the beginning. you, however, were beginning to warm up to it. you would never admit it, but you secretly liked your black and white uniform you and wednesday received.

you began to except friendships (unlike your cousin). a vampire named hera was your roommate and probably your closest friend, other than wednesday’s roommate, enid.

but out of everyone in the school, one person specifically stood out to you. xavier thorpe.

you didn’t know why he had taken such a strong liking to you. he made efforts to be around you, make you feel included, and try to see you smile.

so, as you sat in thornhill’s class, you tried to keep your eyes open as she taught on and on and on about specific types of plants.

xavier could feel your boredom from his desk a few seats away. he grabbed a sheet of paper and pencil and began doodling on the white sheet.

you were so zoned out you almost didn’t feel the little tap on your ankle. you looked down the table to find a black rabbit that appeared to be alive, straight out of a drawing.

you looked up at xavier threw your eyelashes. your cold, empty, dead stare was enough to almost make him feel scared.

you were about to reach down to the rabbit when thing crawled down your leg, squishing the rabbit out of existence by accident.

you watched thing’s embarrassment as he crawled into your backpack and zipped it up after him.

you couldn’t help but feel the end of your lips twist into a grin as you looked away. it wasn’t that you didn’t like xavier, you just believed you can spend your time elsewhere instead of taking the risk of heartbreak.

you watched your father’s sanity slowly decrease after the loss of your mother. maybe that’s a reason for his quirky behavior, but the concept of being so in love that it makes you lose all sense of your mind was something you couldn’t comprehend.

why risk everything for one person?

sure, you had your uncle gomez and aunt morticia as an example of sickening love. the way your uncle admired your aunt in such a way, it made you question love.

why is love so good to others, but can be so cruel at the same time?

➽─────────────────❥

after class, you began to walk down to the courtyard when you heard someone jogging behind you. rain was pouring from the sky.

“y/n,” xavier called out.

you stopped dead in your tracks, looking up at him through your wet eyelashes. “what?”

“where are you going?” he questioned as you continued to move.

“dunno. maybe i’ll go find something interesting to distract me from the world.”

“are you excited for outreach day?”

“excited for extended labor during a saturday in a little town that doesn’t like us? not exactly how i like to spend my weekends.”

xavier stared at you. sometimes he couldn’t figure out why you were so closed off, so private, so distant.

but he couldn’t lie and say it didn’t intrigue him. when xavier first saw you on campus, he was immediately interested. your beautiful looks (and the fact you and wednesday had little to no color on) captivated him. he needed to know you.

“well, i’m going to the library if you want to come with.”

you watched as xavier licked his lips. you pondered for a moment.

“fine.”

his lips curled into a grin.

the two of you walked to the library. a comfortable silence was between you too, and you could tell he was nervous.

xavier held the door open for you as you entered the library. you immediately walked over to the giant window that overlooked the rain and the small town of jericho.

xavier pulled out a chair across from you. he noticed you watching the rain.

“i like this weather. rain makes me feel good.”

“it’s so… gloomy.” xavier argued.

“look at who you’re talking to,” you joked.

xavier laughed. it was very rare you showed your sense of humor.

“there’s just something about clouds and rain to me. something very… gloomy.”

you referred to xavier’s previous statement. you could see his blush and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

and xavier swore he fell harder.

➽─────────────────❥

you and wednesday stood side by side as principal weems went around with a hat. outreach day had finally arrived.

wednesday reached in and you followed. “what’d you get?” she questioned.

“the weathervane. you?”

“i don’t know what shop this is. but i need to get into pilgrim world.”

wednesday had briefly explained to you about the case she’s trying to solve as well as her novel. you chose to try to ignore her antics because you knew how hyper-fixed she gets on things.

but if she needed you, you would be there in a heartbeat.

“tyler works at the weathervane.” wednesday added.

“the boy who’s in love with you?” you questioned your cousin. wednesday stared at you as you both began to walk to the bus.

“unfortunately. it’s quite frightening how much he likes me. same with xavier for you.”

“understood. i just hope today goes by very quickly.”

➽─────────────────❥

when you entered the weathervane, tyler was there happily to introduce you to his work. “wow, you are very similar to wednesday.” he commented.

“we’re cousins. why are we waiting?” you asked, noticing he hadn’t made any move to start.

“waiting on one more person to show up- there he is.”

you turned your head to see xavier walking in. great.

“y/n?” he stared at you.

“unfortunately.”

“alright, let’s get started.”

tyler gave you guys aprons and then walked you through drinks, taking orders, and normal café stuff.

“y/n, go take your first order.” tyler instructed as he handed you a notepad and pen.

you walked over to an old married couple. when they saw your cold face and dead-looking eyes they jumped.

“what do you want?” you asked.

“actually, i think we’re going to head out.” the old woman motioned for her husband to exit the booth.

xavier couldn’t help but start laughing as you walked back over to them. tyler was shaking his head.

“that’s the opposite of what we want to do, y/n. xavier, you try.”

you both watched as xavier walked over to a group of girls. you didn’t hear what they said, but the way they were giggling as he spoke made you feel sick to your stomach. 

you rolled your eyes as you walked over to the pastry case and took a bite of a cookie. 

“y/n- you know what, never mind. just try to be nicer to the customers.” 

when xavier walked back over with a notepad filled with orders, he immediately noticed your cold and blank stature. 

“are you done flirting with those barbies?” 

xavier smirked as he leaned against the counter, eyes locked directly on yours. it made you feel nervous. 

“why? are you jealous, y/n?” he asked. 

“you wish.” you rolled your eyes. 

“don’t worry y/n, you’re the only one i have my heart set out for.” he mumbled, now standing extremely close to you. you couldn’t help but shiver. 

you were about to speak once more when tyler walked back over. “start getting to work, guys.”

xavier watched as you quickly walked away from him. fucking tyler. 

after an hour you, tyler, and xavier decided it would be best for you to make the drinks rather than take orders. you were absolutely miserable seeing the way xavier made every customer laugh and smile. it was like torture, and not the good kind. the worst part was, you didn’t even know where this feeling was coming from. 

it wasn’t until wednesday walked in when you felt like you could finally breathe. “how are you, cousin?” she asked. 

“i feel like crawling into a deep, dark hole until i shrivel up and die. you?”

“lovely. i feel the same. is tyler here?” 

tyler came walking around the corner. wednesday and him walked away from you as you noticed thing crawling towards you. 

“finally, a real person.” you whispered to thing as he signed what’s wrong? on the counter. 

“i wish to go into darkness and never come back out.” you explained to him. 

xavier walked over to the counter and noticed your whispering. he furrowed his brows, looking over to see thing quickly signing to you. 

“how did thing get in here?” xavier asked suddenly. 

both you and thing jumped. thing went to handshake xavier and you swore you felt betrayal. 

➽─────────────────❥

you opted to walk back to nevermore after the incident in the town center, regarding thing and wednesday blowing up the statue of joseph crackstone. 

mostly, you needed to clear your head. what was it about xavier and those girls that made you so angry today? 

unfortunately, you didn’t get too much time to think. xavier had began chasing after you, calling out your name. 

“you okay?” he asked when he finally caught up. 

“i’m wonderful.” you answered shortly as you kept walking. 

“why are you so closed off?” xavier finally asked. 

“why are you so open?” you shot back. 

“i’m trying so hard, y/n. trying so hard to be your friend, maybe even get you to be my girlfriend. but you just keep pushing away.”

“i don’t see a point in dating. love is pointless to me. in 300 years, you wouldn’t be able to remember me. my soul, my existence, my face.”

“so that’s the reason? you’re scared of love?” xavier’s voice got softer as he walked closer to you. you didn’t move away (despite your shaking hands and pounding heart). 

“love can be a really good thing in life, y/n.”

“then why can it also be so cruel?”

“you have to take risks. in order to want, to get, to have something, you have to take a risk.”

he was standing dangerously close to you know. 

“you’ve made me feel something so different these past few months. just please, let me show you how good love can be.”

your breathing was staggered as xavier leaned in, lips barely touching. “can i kiss you, y/n?”

fuck it. 

you connected your lips to his as your hands came up to hold his jaw. he immediately placed his hands on your hips, pulling your body even closer to his. he was so desperate for you. 

and maybe you just now realized how desperate you were for him. 

after a couple moments, you pulled away slightly.

“i can take a risk.” you mumbled against his lips.

you felt him smile against your mouth as he kissed you once again.

[nyankochan]

Golden Hour

synopsis: want to risk playing a game with the mob boss? if you win, whatever you want is yours. money. power. you name it. but are you willing to risk the stakes in you lose?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x casino dealer!reader

Content: afab!reader, Gojo being a menace, mean dom! Geto, dirty talk, Oral (f. Receiving), rough sex, penetrative sex (protection is used), after care, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names, Geto has tattoos, size kink, I hope I didn’t miss anything but I apologize if I did

Word Count: 8.4K ಠ_ಠ

A/n: I actually have no idea how to play poker

After working as a card dealer for Club Tengoku in the heart of Shibuya for seven years now, you’ve met your fair share of assholes and idiots. It honestly came with the job description you willing still took at just barely eighteen years old. It provided good money. Don’t get it wrong. It didn’t bring in nearly as much money as your clientele exhausted on a daily, but it still covered your meager bills and expenses.

The hardest part of the job honestly wasn’t even the few douchebags that cussed you out for “stealing their money” when they lost or the drunkards that openly flirted with you. No, it was maintaining a sense of professionalism and boundaries. No matter how bad you wanted to, you could never react the way you wanted. Screaming. Crying. Punching someone’s teeth out when they piss you off. No. You have to keep your composure, smile, and ask “would you like to play again?”

And the one time you broke that rule was because of him.

“Ughhh I hate this shitty job!” Your coworker and closest friend, Utahime, shouts exasperatedly slamming the locker door shut. “If one more creepy old bastard tries to hit on me then I may actually gouge his eyes out!”

“Please don’t get blood on the black jack tables,” you sigh, buttoning up the shirt to your dealer’s uniform. A simple black dress shirt and slacks. A gold trimmed vest with a black tie completes the look, identifying you as one of the dealers in Club Tengoku. “It was a pain in the ass to clean after that last fight you instigated.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Utahime huffs under her breath, haphazardly throwing on her tie. You have to straighten it up for her. “Some idiot accused me of rigging the game when he lost 60 thousand yen.”

“One of these days you’ll get fired before you can quit.”

Utahime had worked at the Club as long, if not longer, then you. She had a short temper and less patience for assholes than you. Though she’s been written up a number of times for her behavior, you think the manager of the club keeps her on to keep plenty of pretty faces on staff to draw customers in.

That, and almost everyone on staff cannot quit until their debt is fully paid.

Likely if you work for Club Tengoku, then you either dumb or desperate. Sometimes both. Whatever reasons originally bring you to the Club, work, sex, pleasure, love, money, etc. you’re property of the owner, Zen’in Naoya, until he either gets sick of you or you pay your debts back. Either with your labor or with your body.

You aren’t quite sure how much Utahime owes but her contact with Naoya cited 12 years of employment. Yours thankfully was almost complete. 8 years. 8 years of work a the Club in exchange for covering the debts you gathered when your shitty ex scammed you and left you with his debts he gathered from a Host Club in Roppongi.

Apparently, the particular club had ties to the yakuza (not that you knew that at the time) and your punk of an ex skipped town after leaving you at the club by yourself. You being young and dumb, only 18, didn’t know what to do except to accept Naoya’s assistance as he happened to be there that night. In return, you had to work with him for 8 years to pay off the 100 million yen debt your ex accumulated. You’d be done in three months, finally.

You weren’t quite sure what to do after your contracted ended. You had enough money saved to move from Tokyo if you desired, but go where? You had no other friends or family outside of Utahime and your coworkers. Naoya wasn’t the worst but he had his moments. Since you behaved and kept to yourself most of the time, you never got put on his radar (not like you had any options at the time).

Maybe he’d let you stay a couple extra months to let you get back on your feet until you found another job. You didn’t really want to leave Utahime on her own either, but for the time being, you’d been searching for other opportunities.

At nine, your shift starts. You and Utahime enter the upper level where the casino is, met by the overstimulating noise of slots, coins dispensing and laughter. The scent of booze is nauseating, and gives you a headache along with the bright neon flashing lights of all the machines. Utahime is on the black jack table. Tonight, you’re at poker.

After rotating out the prior dealer, you take your spot behind the table. As usual, you take out a new deck of cards, freshly out of the package, and shuffle them, waiting for players to join your table. Two gentlemen eventually join, one of them with a woman hanging off his arm like an accessory.

“Welcome,” you say, perfectly rehearsed. “All games at Tengoku have a starting bet of 10 thousand yen. Are you ready to play?”

The first few hours honestly pass by in a blur. The first game concludes with the gentleman with the date wining 30 thousand to turn around and lose half of it the next round. Someone plays three of a kind. Another folds just to lose it all in the end.

It is long. Tedious. Full of mixed emotions from the clientele ranging from anger to grief. Nothing out of the ordinary as you quietly and discreetly manipulate the game from behind the scenes.

See, part of the dealer’s role at Tengoku was to make it interesting. So that Naoya doesn’t lose too much money, the dealers are all given special contacts or glasses that allow them to see through the cards. A slight difference in the shuffle can make a game quite interesting, to say the least.

“My, maybe this is just my lucky night, but how often do I get to see a pretty dealer at the casino?” A deep, yet suave, voice says. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as two gentlemen sit at your table. The white haired man, dressed impeccably in a three piece suit and sunglasses though indoors, leans in too close into your personal space. “Say, what do I have to do to win you as a prize?”

You fight the urge to make a face, and continue with your usual elevator speech. “Welcome. Games at Tengoku have a starting bet of 10 thousand yen. Are you ready to play?”

“Why not make it interesting?” The man smiles a charming smile. “Let’s raise and start off with 100 thousand, yeah?” Minus the gentleman that sat with him, the other three individuals at the table looked nervous. You however continue to do your job as expected.

“Understood, the starting bet for this round is 100 thousand yen.”

You shuffle the cards meticulously, discreetly folding the aces into separate parts of the deck so that when you deal them out to everyone, the white haired man is ensured not to have any high cards. When he looks at the hand he’s been dealt, you notice his eyebrows furrow, seemingly in both shock and perhaps annoyance, yet his poker face is rather good, so he doesn’t let off too much that he has a bad hand.

“Each chip is worth 10 thousand yen at this Club,” you say. “We will go clockwise starting from the dealer’s left.” Nodding towards the timid looking gentleman who sat at the end of the table to start, the game begins.

“C-check,” the man stammers, choosing not to add to the exuberant bid already.

“Raise,” said the black haired man that originally sat with his cocky-white haired companion. He slides five chips across the table, raising the bet amount to 150 thousand. He has a rather cool demeanor. You can’t tell from his composure what he’s thinking, but he seems somewhat bored, if you had to guess.

You can also tell that the man has serious money, him and his companion both. His sleek three-piece black suit fits perfectly tailored against his broad shoulders. A shiny watch glistens on his wrist as he absentmindedly rolls one of the chips across the table, only for it to fall a few inches away. And his hair, pulled back into a somewhat messy bun is the only “imperfection” to his otherwise perfect appearance.

The man notices your stare and smiles. You turn away, face warming at being caught.

“I’ll call,” the white haired man says confidently despite his bad hand, placing five chips of his own down. The last two players call, matching the current bet.

You flip over three cards: a three of spades, the six of diamonds, and the jack of hearts.

The game proceeds slowly, or at least, it seems that way, because the entire time, you can feel the black haired male’s gaze burning holes through your head. You have a rather strong poker face, and try not to let his stare intimidate you, but for some reason, it feels as if he’s reading you like an open book. I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work…you can almost hear him say.

Your eyes begin feeling dry from the contacts, so you want to wrap the game up as quickly as possible. But by the end of the game, he wins with a full house: two fours and three eights.

“Damn you Suguru,” the white haired man groans, throwing his hand on the table. He had an ace, a five, a seven, a nine, the jack of clubs, and a four. None of the suits matched up except for the ace and the jack. “Why are you so good at this game?”

The man, Suguru, smiles as you slide the stack of chips totaling 270 thousand across the table. Naoya will have your head knowing you lost that much, is all you can think of, so you don’t almost catch Suguru’s words that make your blood run cold.

“I just know the best way to counter a cheat, is all.” Suguru’s charming smile contorts to a chilling smirk, and you keep your gaze down, trying not to let your fear show.

“What? So one of you bastards was trying to cheat, huh?” His companion mistakenly assumes, looking between the other players at the table.

Suguru then slides the chips right back across the table. You try your best to regain your composure and hide your unease. “I’d like to play again, Little Dealer, and this will be my starting bet.”

Luckily, at that moment, your coworker comes to relieve you from your post. You quickly skitter away, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, weaving through the crowd of the casino and disappearing just like that, missing completely the way Suguru frowns in dissatisfaction.

“Awe, I wanted to redeem myself in front of the cute dealer,” Gojo complains, rocking back in his seat so that the two front legs come off of the ground. “I had a shitty hand.” Geto stands from his seat and begins heading the direction you left. “Hey, where are you going? You left your chips.”

“You can have them,” Geto replies coldly. “I’m going to get a drink.”

“Bring me back a gin and tonic!”

Geto saunters around the casino, eyes scanning the scene. It’s far too noisy for his liking, and everything blends together, so he can’t pick out your small stature from the crowd, much to his annoyance. A headache gnaws at his temple, and a passing waitress comes at an all too perfect time with a tray of champagne, which he snags.

He knows you rigged the game. He knew from the moment you shuffled the cards. But he doesn’t know how you did it, and he was a curious yet greedy fellow. He had to know how you did it. And by a stroke of luck, he spots you coming out from a door labeled employees only, while rubbing your eyes.

“Those contacts seriously burn,” you think to yourself. Once relieved from your station, you rushed back to the employee locker rooms to take out the contacts. Though they appeared clear, no different from any standard contact, the chemicals they had in them to allow you to see through the cards irritated your retinas. If possible, Naoya preferred everyone who didn’t already wear glasses normally to wear the contacts to garner less suspicion from the guests. But after a few hours, the shits became unbearable to wear. And you couldn’t mess with your eyes without running the risk of another client, particularly Geto, catching on.

Something about that man unsettled you. He was nothing like the man he sat with, who was loud, prideful, and quite obnoxious. No, he was quiet and observed his surroundings like a predator surveying its territory before figuring out when and how to strike. You couldn’t be too sure if he caught on how you rigged the game. After all, you only intended to make winning difficult for his friend, because he got on your nerves. But even still, your sleight of hand should’ve been so slight that no one would have noticed. You’ve done it for almost eight years in a row without no one catching your little trick.

“So we meet again, Little Dealer.” You don’t have to turn around to know who the suave voice belongs to. As you’ve been trained over and over, your facial expression blanks before you turn around to face Geto after correcting your posture.

“Hello again, Sir. Is there something I can assist you with?” You say politely. Geto looks unamused. His gaze is even more intimidating up close. He downs the last bit of his drink and sets it on a nearby table.

“I want to play another round,” Geto says.

“Certainly,” you nod. “If you go to any of the tables, another dealer can-”

Geto’s grin widens and he leans in close to your ear, just barely a whisper against the deafening slot machines. “I want to play again with you, little cheater.” The crucial error on your part is when your expression wavers, and much to Geto’s surprise, you look terrified. Nonetheless, he knows he has you in the palm of his hand. You take a step to turn and book it, but Geto’s quicker, grabbing your wrist before you get too far.

You try and fail to wrench your hand free. “P-please don’t tell,” you muster up a whimper.

Geto’s smile falters briefly, a strange shiver running down his spine. It was strange to see the seemingly cool headed and composed dealer look suddenly so…helpless?

“My, my, is there a problem here that I should be aware of?”

Your eyes widen, and you quickly and this time, more forcefully, snatch your arm away from Geto. You turn and bow towards Naoya, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. His usual “secretary” stands at his side (though you and Utahime are 99% sure they’re fucking), and he wears a sickeningly fake smile that you can’t stand. You know he’s pissed, but is just trying to put on a facade to keep up appearances.

Geto is startled by the man’s sudden appearance. He came up right behind him, yet Geto didn’t detect his presence at all. And for you to suddenly submit so willingly…

“There are no issues, Mr. Zen’in,” you say, trying to hide the quiver in your voice. “I-I was just returning from my break, when this gentleman here approached me, inquiring about playing one of our games.”

Naoya’s eyes narrowed slightly. You feel your chest constrict as the sound of your heartbeat resonates within your ears. You hold your breath and try not to cry. If he found out you, inadvertently or not, revealed one of the club’s greatest secrets, you were as good as dead. Forget leaving the Club in three months. You would be Naoya’s until the day you die.

“Y/n, look at me,” Naoya demands. You slowly raise your head only to be met face to face with his sharp brown eyes. “Are you lying to me?” He hisses, quiet and low.

“N-no sir, never.”

“I had stopped to ask about another poker table,” Geto spoke up. “The one I was playing at got a little too rowdy, as some of the other guests likely had too much to drink. I had stopped her to see if there was another table I could play at.”

Naoya puts back on his fake smile, but he leans away from you, allowing you to finally breathe, to face Geto. “Of course,” the charismatic businessman says. “I apologize for the inconvenience Mr….”

“Geto. Suguru Geto.”

“Ah, of course.” Brief recognition flashes across Naoya’s face, before his attention is turned back to you. “Mr. Geto here is a V.I.P. guest of ours, so make sure you tend to his needs with utmost respect, got it?”

You nod, bowing your head. “Yes, Mr. Zen’in.”

“And Mr. Geto, please have a bottle of wine, of your choosing, on the house, if my employee here has caused you any problems.” Naoya walks off, his secretary in tow, who gives you a sympathetic look.

Though he’s gone, your heart doesn’t stop racing. For the 7 years you’ve been employed, you’ve managed to stay off of Naoya’s radar and complete your job without incident. Why did now, of all times, did you have to piss him off? Though on the outside, he didn’t seem like it, Naoya was terrifying, heir to the powerful Zen’in family whose connections were so deeply interwoven throughout Tokyo that pissing him off almost guarantees you’d never work anywhere in the city again. He controlled your fate. Geto surely knows the influence Naoya has to be considered a V.I.P. So why did he stick up for you?

Your hands tremble still as you bow in apology to Geto. “I’m sorry for any trouble I caused you tonight.”

“Are you really sorry if you can’t elaborate on what you did wrong?” Geto nonchalantly asks, making you flinch.

“I-”

“Hey! Suguru! I’ve been looking for you!” A loud voice makes Geto sigh and roll his eyes; the many distractions were starting to irritate him. With a pretty girl wrapped around his arm, the white haired man from earlier approaches his friend.

“What do you want, Satoru?”

“You never came back with my drink,” Satoru complains. “I thought maybe you would be at least getting head somewhere, not standing in the middle of the aisle looking stuck on stupid.” He pushes up his sunglasses with a goofy grin that only widens when he sees you. “Ah! It’s the dealer! Hey, I wanna rematch. That first round was a fluke. I need to redeem myself.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“She’s done for the evening,” Geto cuts in. “Her shift just ended, right?” You dumbly nod along. Though, it was only a little past eleven, and your shift didn’t end until one.

“Too bad,” Satoru huffs. “Another time then! I won’t lose that badly again. My pride as a member of the Gojo family won’t allow it.” Then he’s gone, pulling the woman along with him. She giggles and snuggles up against his arm.

“I must be returning back to my shift then,” you say, putting back on your polite persona. “Have a good rest of your evening Mr. Geto.”

“Not so fast.” Geto catches you by the arm. “I said your shift just ended, did I not?”

“B-but I-”

“Let’s play a game,” he interrupts. “I don’t think you know who I am, but if you want me to keep my mouth shut about your little trick, then you’ll do as I say, got it?” You meekly nod, unable to pry your arm nor gaze away from the dark haired man. “Good. Now, go grab a deck of cards and meet me in the hall.”

His commanding voice, something about it was so attractive that you felt your face heating up as you scurried away to grab a deck of cards from one of the tables not in use. Your heart…you could feel it racing, but instead of the erratic pace it beat before Naoya, it was a somewhat fluttering feeling. And it made you nauseous.

As expected, Geto waits in the somewhat dim hallway just outside the casino. He leans against the wall, flipping what looks like to be a poker chip in the palm of his hand. Now that you get a better look at him, without all the fluorescent lighting and distractions, he’s pretty damn handsome. Tall. Well built. And dashing in a suit and tie. Your heart continues to flutter, annoyingly so. Once you approach, Geto straightens up, pocketing the poker chip.

“You’re quite obedient, aren’t you,” Geto muses. “Come, I’ve requested a private room where our game won’t be disturbed.”

You say nothing as you follow the man down the hall to the elevator. He holds the door open for you to enter, before pressing the button to take you up to the twelfth floor.

Club Tengoku doubles as a hotel, but the average cost of a room for one night is more than what you make in a year. It’s in the heart of Shibuya, so Naoya can charge whatever he wants, you supposed. The first three levels are all kinds of gambling rooms and bars. The first level of the basement is one of the Clubs. The B2 level…you’ve been there once and it’s not your scene.

“You look quite young to work at a place like this,” Geto comments, watching the number slowly climb higher.

“I just turned twenty five,” you mumble.

“Like I said, quite young.” The elevator opens. Geto exits first and you dutifully follow along, eyeing your surroundings with apprehension and curiosity, as your job never takes you anywhere besides the casino, and occasionally, the club. Everything looks expensive, even more so when Geto unlocks room 1205 to reveal an impressive suite so big it looks like a miniature apartment instead of a hotel room.

A large kitchenette connects to the living room where glass windows overlook Shibuya Scramble, which looks dazzling and dreamlike in the dark of night, still bustling as the name implies. It seems like there are at least two other rooms, but you don’t want to appear nosy and stand awkwardly by the door.

“Take a seat and make yourself comfortable,” Geto says, shedding his jacket. He takes two wine glasses out from the cabinet. “Do you want red or white wine?”

“I-I’m not allowed to drink on the job,” you reply, sitting on the edge of the leather couch.

“That’s not what I asked. Red or white.” Geto’s firm voice has your knees feeling weak, and you mumble white. Geto pours each of you a glass, setting the drink before you on the small table beside the couch. He sits directly across from you, swirling the wine within its cup.

You don’t quite know where to start, drumming your fingers against your legs while keeping your head down to avoid eye contact. Naoya would kill you knowing that you’re in a client’s private room. Not that some of your coworkers didn’t have intimate relations with some of their clients. It was quite common in fact. But that behavior was saved for the private rooms of the club. The hotel was off limits.

“Do you have a preference for what game we play?” Geto finally asks, after spending a few seconds just examining you, taking in all your features and nervous ticks, from the way you play with your fingers nervously or how your ears redden with embarrassment. Quite cute if you asked him to be honest (which he hardly was).

“N-no, Sir,” was your reply.

“Then how about Go Fish?” A simple game like that? Seemed rather mundane. “But let’s make it interesting,” Geto adds. “Any time someone gets a book, they get to ask the other any question they want to know, and they must answer honestly. The winner gets to make any request of the loser.”

“Why should I agree to your terms?”

Geto sips his wine, then sets the glass on the table. “I’ll tell your little boss that you let slip a company secret if you don’t. Wouldn’t want that, would you?” He takes your silence as compliance. “Shuffle the deck. No fancy tricks.”

You shakily take the deck out the box. You carefully shuffle, trying not to do anything that would raise suspicion. Once. Thrice. Four and you’re dealing them out. Geto goes first, but you’re the first to get a set of the eights.

“Who are you?” You ask.

“Geto Suguru, or was that not made clear before?”

“No, what is it that you do?” You clarify. “Why are you considered a V.I.P?”

Geto smiles. “You need another set to ask another question, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, he obtains the next set. The twos.

“How did you cheat earlier at the poker table?”

You knew the question was coming. There was no point in lying. “Mr. Zen’in has special contacts imported from Macau’s black market that allow us to see through the cards.” Geto stares at you, waiting for you to elaborate more to which you remain silent. He then chuckles.

“This game is going to be quite interesting.” Next, he gets all the queens. “Why did you intentionally deal Satoru a bad hand instead of all the players?”

“He was annoying. That’s all.” Luckily, you have the next set. “What kind of job do you have, Mr. Geto, that makes you a V.I.P. here?”

Geto shrugs. “I dabble in a lot of different things. It’s better to have your hand in several different pots instead of putting all your eggs in one basket, no?” That doesn’t answer the question in the way you were hoping, but you let it slide. And the next question is yours to ask.

“What brought you to the casino? Forgive me, but you don’t seem like the type of man to indulge in gambling.”

“Oh?” Geto leans back slightly. “What type of man do you think I am?”

Your face warms as you realize the implications of your words. After clearing your throat, you add, “it’s not your turn to ask a question.”

“Fair, fair,” Geto laughs. “Let’s just say, I’m very greedy, and I enjoy the casino’s opportunity for more.” He places down the four twos. “Now, why do you work here?” The man then places down all four sevens. “And what’s your relationship with that Zen’in guy?”

Him placing back to back sets throws you off. It not only puts you in the awkward spot of having two questions to answer, but it also places Geto in the lead. And your current shitty hand doesn’t have a potential match in sight.

“I…inquired some debts when I was 18,” you answer after a brief moment to collect your thoughts. Geto patiently waits for you to continue. “Mr. Naoya Zen’in covered them under the condition that I worked for him for eight years…” you pause, biting your lip, but your opponent shows no emotion towards your response and the game continues.

In the end, you hardly learn anything about Geto and he pries out much of your life story, additionally sealing his own victory when the game concludes. “Looks like victory is mine,” he says the obvious part out loud. He’s a little disappointed by how soon the game ended, not because he enjoyed it (well partially), but he didn’t quite find out all he wanted to know about you, yet. You were vague but honest when answering questions about your debts, but Geto still couldn’t understand why someone like Naoya would do anyone a favor. Let alone why you worked under him in the first place.

With the kind of work Geto did on a daily basis, he was quite familiar with the Zen’in family and often did business in other areas, but he always remained cautious to not become too intertwined with the web of a trap that was Naoya Zen’in. If Geto considered himself to be greedy, then Naoya would be insatiable, utilizing any means necessary to secure more power for himself. You were hiding something about your relationship with him, which was fine with Geto. He’d find out sooner or later.

“Now, for my prize,” Geto ponders for a moment and during the time, your breath hitches. The next moment, he’s in your face, so close that hints of his cologne tickle your nose. He’s so close that the slightest miscalculation in movement could make your lips touch. Antisly, you press your thighs together, heat burning between them, and you hope that he can’t hear how loud your heart beats. Geto grins, then backs away. “I will cash it out on another day.”

Your mouth falls agape, but no words leave your lips. Owing a debt to Geto Suguru? What game did you just become a part of?

He doesn’t tell you when he plans to claim his reward for winning the game, nor does he give you a way to contact him to inquire about it. After he escorts you to your car, because by that point it was pushing three in the morning, Geto leaves in a black Cadillac, and for the next few days, you don’t see him at the casino.

As the days roll by, work still mundane and Utahime still complaining about her clients, you grow increasingly anxious. On top of that, Naoya calls you into his office once to reprimand you about not causing any issues. You’re sure he doesn’t believe Geto’s white lie, but he doesn’t question nor bring up the contacts. For now, you’re safe, unless Geto goes back on his word and spills what he knows.

Geto’s white haired friend, Gojo, if you remember correctly, does come back every night without fail, spending upwards of a hundred thousand every time as if it were monopoly money. Must be nice to be able to waste money like it worthed nothing.

He kind of grows on you after you look past his cocky and annoying persona, keeping you company when you are not dealing for any games or cleaning up tables. You badly want to ask him about Geto, but opt out too in fear of it being misinterpreted. Luckily though, Gojo is not as tight-lipped as his companion, and often reveals too much information without you asking, especially if he’s had a few drinks.

“I can’t believe that Suguru didn’t fuck you the other night given how much he won’t shut up about you,” Gojo says out the blue, his speech somewhat slurred as he takes a sip from his third glass of whiskey. “I’ve never heard him bitch about wanting somebody so much.”

“G-Geto talks about me?” You try your best to hold your composure, but you can feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. If that was the case, then why did he avoid the casino? Or was he just avoiding you?

“Does he? That’s all I’ve literally been forced to hear about all week,” Gojo huffs in annoyance. “We were at the club the other day and he showed no reaction whatsoever to any of the dancers while I had such a bad fucking hard on I couldn’t think straight!” He rests his cheek against his fist, nearly drunkenly falling off the poker table. Hints of striking blue irises peek over the rims of his dark sunglasses. “Hmm, I guess you got a cute face. Can’t see much of a body from the uniform though. You sure you didn’t get freaky with him? No strip tease or anything?”

You recall the scent of Geto’s cologne. The subtle flex and tensing of his muscles through his shirt with each movement. How his presence alone commanded authority, yet the taunting glint in his eye would suggest something else. Something more alluring and mischievous.

When you realize you’ve yet to give Gojo an answer, who by now was looking at you with a knowing look, you quickly try to deny the accusations. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” the white haired man teases. “He’s an asshole, but an attractive one at that. Any woman would drop their panties for him. Well, probably guys too, but that’s besides my point.”

By a stroke of luck or a cruel twist of fate the devil himself appears, this time wearing a navy blue suit and a rather unamused expression at hearing his best friend’s drunken rambles. Though he only caught the end of the conversation, knowing Satoru, anything that came out of his mouth was likely sexual, inappropriate, or some combination of both.

“Don’t you have to go be annoying somewhere else?” Geto sneers.

“Not until four,” Gojo replies, trying to look down at his watch but is wasted enough that he looks at the wrong wrist.

Geto frowns, trying to swallow back the strange irritation that tugs at his chest. “Let’s play another round of cards, Little Dealer,” he turns his attention toward you.

“Ohh is that your hidden code word for fucking each other?”

Ignoring the man, Geto merely flips him off, guiding you away, a gentle hand on the small of your back, after you procured a deck of cards. As the two of you head for the elevator, you pass Utahime and another one of your coworkers. Utahime’s eyes widen and you mouth to her, “don’t tell Naoya.” Your friend merely responds with a thumbs up and an oddly proud look.

Like before, the ride up is uncomfortably quiet. Geto doesn’t even look in your direction, his jaw set and eyebrows furrowed in clear annoyance. Was he possibly…jealous that you were with Gojo?

“Um…where were you these last couple days?” You try to break the silence. Geto still doesn’t look your way, watching the number of the elevator climb to ten.

“Busy with work,” is all he says before the doors slide open.

You find yourself in a similarly designed room as the other night, back to the same set up as before: sitting across from each other with a deck of cards on the table between you two. Geto takes off his suit jacket. You try not to stare, but the action was just so damn attractive to watch.

“Shall we play another game of Go Fish?” Geto speaks once he’s comfortable. “Same rules as before.”

“But you didn’t cash out your request from the previous night, so how is that fair?” You ask.

“Hmm…then how about this. If you win, I’ll fulfill any request of yours. If I win, you’re mine once your contract ends with Zen’in.”

You freeze, blood running cold. You never told him that your contact would be up soon. You made sure to dance around the question, so how did this man find out?

“Just who are you?”

Geto grins. “Play the game to find out.”

You shuffle the cards. Geto deals them out. You look at the hand you’ve been dealt and off the bat it doesn’t look the best. No surprise when Geto gets the first set, but his question throws you off.

“What do you want to do once your contract ends with Zen’in?”

You blink in confusion, but answer honestly. “I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t know who I am outside of this job.”

The next set and question is yours. “What is your real job?”

“I guess the proper term would be Boss,” Geto hums. “But Head of the Geto Family Syndicate works just as well.”

Your heart tightens. “You’re yakuza…”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Just your shitty luck. Why does fate hate you so? No matter what you do, you can’t seem to get away from the mob, even though you aren’t intentionally seeking them out. Even worse, you’ve been dancing right in the palm of the boss’s hand all while ogling him while he wasn’t looking. And to make matters worse, if you lose, you will be leaving one contract just to walk straight into another.

No. You won’t let that happen. Not again.

“Why do you want me to work for you?” You ask next after securing another set.

“I never said work for me,” Geto corrects. “I said you would be mine.”

“What does that entail?”

The man grins. “You can’t ask two questions, but to answer your first, I want you because I’m greedy like that. If I find something interesting or worthwhile, why would I not try to keep it?”

His stare is intense, daunting yet enticing. Why did he have to be so tempting? You should have never agreed to play along, because you were spiraling faster than you could control.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Geto asks, placing down another set.

Before you stop yourself, you respond, “that I want you, but I can’t.”

“Says who?” Geto prods. When did he get so close? One moment he’s on the opposite side of the couch, and the next, he’s inches away from your face. His familiar cologne fills your nose in a comforting touch.

“You’re dangerous.”

“You’re surrounded by danger already from working for Zen’in. What’s stopping you now?”

Your eyes meet his dark ones, serious but oddly soft. “I’m scared that I will enjoy it more than I should.”

“Sweetheart, you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

And his lips were on yours. You aren’t quite sure who leaned in first, not that it mattered. He tastes faintly of liquor, but is otherwise gentle. However, he doesn’t linger long, much to your dismay, pulling away after a few seconds too soon to admire your flustered face.

“Let’s call the game here,” Geto says, slightly out of breath. “You were in the lead, so what is it that you want from me?” He cups your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact as you ask.

“Can you kiss me again?”

Geto does without complaint, this time with more urgency. His scent is suffocating. Your head feels hazy, scrambled thoughts only on the man before you and the way his gentle touch electrifies your skin. A soft moan leaves your lips as Geto kisses across your jawline.

“Is a kiss truly all you want?” he teases all while loosening the tie around his neck. “You could stand to be a little more greedy, you know?” He pops one button of your vest open. Then the second. Then the last, sliding the material down your shoulders. “If you want something from me, you need to use your Big Girl words, or else I can’t help you.”

“I…” The words are stuck in your throat. What did you want? Was it okay for you to want something? “I don’t wanna…” a small whimper leaves your lips as Geto’s teeth grazes the side of your neck after unbuttoning your shirt’s collar. “Don’t wanna be selfish.”

“And I’m telling you to be. Now what do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want you, Suguru.”

The sound of his name on your lips is heavenly, and Geto forgets about teasing you any longer. He pins you to the couch with ease, using one hand to grip your wrists while the other pulls at your shirt, the buttons popping off one by one, all while his lips are on yours again, sucking on them until they’re swollen. His hands tickle your sides as he explores your body, stopping only to unclasp your bra. The cool air makes you shiver.

Kissing you was sweet and addicting, and he wanted…no, needed, to know what you tasted like elsewhere. Swiftly, Geto picks you up, the couch not spacious enough. He clumsily stumbles to one of the bedrooms, his mouth attaching to one of your bare breasts. You whimper as he bites at your sensitive nipple.

“Suguru,” you moan, tugging at his hair, pressing your chest closer making Geto grunt. You end up pulling his hair out of its bun, his black locs cascading down his shoulders. As you both tumble into the king sized bed, it tickles your nose.

“Before we go any further,” Geto suddenly pulls away, walking around to the nightstand. He rummaged through one of the drawers before finding a box of condoms. “Do you have any hard boundaries?” At the shake of your head, he nods. “Still, give me a safe word just in case I’m too much.”

You think for a moment before answering, “gold.”

“Good,” Geto says. He undoes the first few buttons of his dress shirt, tattoos peeking across his collarbone. “Cause if you need me to stop, you’re going to have to scream it, because I’m going to keep going until I have my fill of you.”

Geto grabs you by your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed while pulling your slacks down to your ankles. He settles between your legs, bending down to give a slow lick up up your clothed pussy, tasting your wetness that’s seeped through the fabric. You gasp, back arching off the bed. Groaning at your sweet taste, Geto could feel his cock stir within his pants.

“Fuck…I’m going to savor this.” He pulls your panties down with his teeth. His hot breath on your cunt has you dripping with need. Your pretty lips are already glistening.

“Suguru, please,” you whimper.

“Whatever you want.” Pressing his tongue, he takes a long slow lick up your folds. The sensation is electrifying, high pitched moans leaving your lips which you try to cover with your hand.

Geto spreads your legs open wider, pressing his mouth as close as he can get to your cunt. He is aggressive, messily slurping up all you offer. His tongue weaves through your folds, and his harsh sucks against your clit makes you cry out, fingers gripping at his long hair.

“Gods you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Geto groans, the pain of you tugging at his scalp turning him on just as much as the taste of your arousal on his tongue. “Fuck, baby, pull my hair more.”

“Fuck! Suguru I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull at Geto’s hair roughly, making a throaty groan leave his lips. The built up pressure in your abdomen snaps, and euphoria rocks your body as your orgasm hits you hard. Your release coats Geto’s tongue, and he’s greedy, continuing to drink you up until your legs are trembling from overstimulation.

“T-too much! W-wait-“ you whimper, writhing away. Geto’s grip on your thighs tightens. He delivers one last hard suck against your clit before pressing a parting kiss against your sloppy lips.

“Don’t try to leave me now, sweetheart,” Geto says. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, sliding it down his broad shoulders. Two intricate tattoo sleeves cover his arms from his collarbone down to his wrists. They’re dark yet beautifully done, adding to his handsome appeal. Who knew tattoos could be so sexy.

“I said I’m going to have my way with you until I have my fucking fill, and merely having your taste on my tongue won’t satisfy me.” Geto loosens his belt, already feeling some sort of relief from the way his aching cock pressed against his pants. Fuck. The way he needed you was maddening. His body was hot and just begging to be inside you, to feel your walls clench around him, to have you close and crying out his name.

“Come’ere,” Geto instructs. “Crawl.”

You shakily get on to your hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the bed where he stood. Your face feeling hot from embarrassment but your body betraying you in the way you could feel your needy pussy throb in anticipation. Geto almost loses what little composure he has left when you stare up at him through your lashes, innocent and cute.

“I don’t think I need to spell it out for you. Help me out, will ya?” Geto watches while you loosen his pants so that they fall to the floor. You’re slightly nervous looking at the size of the bulge pressing against his boxers, and your suspicions are confirmed when you pull his erection free. He’s big, thick and stiff against his abdomen, twitching ever so slightly as the cool air teases him. The tip’s an angry red, leaking pre cum already, and you’re dying for a taste.

Geto himself could almost sigh in relief. Any longer and he thought he’d burst. He tears open a condom and gives it to you. “Put it on for me?” You do, rolling it over his length, teasingly slow. Geto shivers at your touch. “Such a damn minx.” He flips you on your backside, aligning himself at your entrance and kissing your jaw. “Tell me your safe word again.”

“Gold,” you reply.

“Good fucking girl.” Geto bottoms out in a single thrust, ripping a moan from your lips. “Fuckkk,” he groans. “Fucking knew you’d fit around me perfectly.”

He experimentally moves his hips, the stretch of his cock filling you deliciously all the way and kissing the deepest parts of your spongy walls. Geto curses again, folds your legs over his shoulders, and rams into you until you’re seeing stars.

“A-h f-fuck S-suguru-“ You babble incoherently. Your mind blank and the air knocked out of your lungs as his cock kisses your cervix again. And again. And again until seconds later you’re creaming around him.

“Such a messy cunt,” Geto chuckles, admiring the ring of your arousal that coats his length as he bullies into your weepy hole, not stopping just because you came. “Just listen to the sound of her sucking me in. She doesn’t want to let me go. Fuck. Gripping me so tightly I could fucking burst. Greedy. Greedy. Just fucking greedy.”

“Fuck-Suguru, s’too much!” You felt lightheaded. He’s too rough, chasing his own high. And with the position he has you in, his cock presses so deep. His face sheens with sweat causing his hair to stick to his face, and his eyes glossed over, solely focused on bringing you over the edge.

“Awe, it’s too much?” Geto taunts, dragging his cock back out slowly, allowing you to feel every inch before slamming back in. “I never said I’d be nice. Go on, give me another orgasm then maybe I’ll consider slowing down.”

You felt your stomach tightening, tears brimming your eyelashes. “S-so mean,” you whimper.

Geto grins. “Mean? I’m just a greedy fucking bastard who wants more than what he needs. I won’t be satisfied unless I have you cumming around my cock over and over until you don’t remember anything else but the way my cock molds your pussy into its shape and the name of the man who fucks you silly.”

He grips your chin, kissing into you with urgency. Your moans muffled into small whines as you arch off the bed, raising your hips to meet his that still when his orgasm hits. Geto groans, biting your lip. He releases into the condom feeling his abdomen constrict and heavy balls tighten to the point of breaking. His body rocks, his face burying into the crook of your neck as the hard orgasm hits him with intensity.

“Ugh…fuck fuck…” Geto captures your lips again, this time more gentle. “Damn I’ve never cum that hard.” He checks to make sure you’re ok, wiping the stray tears that rolled down your cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm…just…blissful…” you mutter sleepily, completely fucked out to the point of exhaustion. Geto laughs.

“Wait one second.” He slowly pulls out, tying the condom up carefully not to spill anything. He disappears into the bathroom only to return a moment later with a wet, warm towel. As he wipes you down, Geto secretly admires his handy work, the hickies and marks already starting to darken purple.

“What are you doing?” You ask, wincing when you try to sit up. Your hips were on fire and your legs felt like jello.

“Taking care of you?” Geto responds as if it were obvious.

“Why?”

“Why?” He scoffs. “I can be a gentleman too, you know.” His eyes soften seeing your slight discomfort. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No, it’s okay,” you answer honestly. “I liked it.”

“Good.” Geto presses a kiss to your temple, settling beside you. “Cause I intend for this not to be the last time.”

Your gentle smile turns into a frown. Sure…it was great now. But in 3 months time, who knew where you’d be at? Your contract will end with Naoya, if he doesn’t find out what you’ve done beforehand and fires you or extends your time with him. Plus, it wasn’t like you could have a relationship with Geto, or a normal one at that. With his line of work, it would be impossible. And did you truly want to get involved knowing it was how you ended up in your current situation in the first place?

“What are you thinking about in that pretty head of yours?” Geto questions. Though meant to be lighthearted, there’s underlying concern in his voice.

“There can’t be a next time,” you say. “In three months, I’m free from Naoya and can leave. So we should just say our farewells now before we get too attached.”

Geto stares at you blankly for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “You’re so cute, trying to act all serious and considerate.” He pinches your cheek making your pout.

“Stop, I’m serious.”

“And so was I,” Geto counters. When you avoid eye contact, he turns your cheek to face him. “In fact, you actually still owe me from our first game of Go Fish. I don’t quite remember cashing in my request. So I’m using it now: in three months, when your contract ends, you are to come stay with me.”

“But I-“

“I can arrange for you to work or do whatever hobbies you want. That is not a problem. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you, so just stay by my side. Can you fulfill this one selfish request of mine?”

His words are sincere. His touch is gentle, and you find yourself leaning into his embrace despite your better judgment. You’re surprised by how hard his heart’s racing. “Okay,” you finally answer. “I’ll go with you.”

Geto visibly relaxed. His arms wrap themselves around you. “Good…I promise. I’ll protect you.”

You’re foolish. You’re playing a dangerous game that could end up with you getting hurt instead.

But Geto Suguru is a greedy man.

What he wants, he gets.

And he always takes precious care of what is his.

[yawnderu]

Thin Walls — Keegan P. Russ x Reader

Dbf!Keegan collab with the amazing @moosch MWAH

Check out her amazing drawing on this<3

There were rare times Keegan felt like he may have chosen the wrong job. Right now? Covered in dirt and grime, seeking shelter in an abandoned building with the rest of the ghosts after a particularly hard mission was one of those moments. What was supposed to be a three hour mission went downhill and turned into four long days of chasing down an enemy for intel.

The first thing he did as soon as the building was cleared was to fish for his phone, reading the thread of messages he had from you; ranging from telling him about your day, to complaining about missing him and how he owes you a shopping spree for going dark. He rolled his eyes, a deep chuckle rumbling out of his chest and escaping his lips. A new text caught his attention, scrolling down to read it.

Brat: [16:38]

I see you online, can we ft? Papa wants to see u :)

He stares at your message for a few seconds, considering his chances. Keegan looks like shit— eye black smudged messily all over his face, uniform dirty and muddy, a streak of dried up blood dripping down his forehead, and icy blue eyes so tired you would think he died and was never informed. He didn't want you or your father; his best friend, to see him at his worst.

Glucose Father: [16:40]

Sorry princess, signs too shitty for that. Send me some pics of that bratty face and maybe I'll take you shopping when I'm back?

He internally cringed at the text, rarely even using his phone unless it was to text your father and you. His fingers tap on the sides of his phone as he waited for a reply, putting the idle chatter of the ghosts in the back of his mind as he went to another room with the excuse of being able to get some sleep once and for all.

For a second, he ignored the phone vibrating in his hand, leaning against the wall and sitting down with a groan, sore muscles finally able to rest, even if only for a few hours.

Brat [16:43]

Sent 6 attachments.

His tired eyes drifted down to his phone, opening the message and being received by the sight of you, a smile adorning your pretty face. His gaze softened and his pants tightened as he noticed you wearing one of his shirts, fitting into it so much better than he could. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, listening to the chatter on the other side of the thin wall before his free hand drifted down to his growing bulge, holding back a groan as he palmed his sensitive cock over his pants.

"Fuck..." He whispered, hesitantly lowering his fly enough to pull his dick out, gloveless hand feeling the length of it before he started stroking slowly, moving his hand up and down while he looked at your pictures. They were completely innocent pictures, really, simply showing your pretty face and bright smile, yet he couldn't help it.

He was trying his best to be quiet despite how good jerking off felt after so much stress. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes screwed shut as his mind came up with the filthiest fucking images, thinking of your lips wrapped around his cock, struggling to take him as he fucked your face. He could just imagine the noises that would come out of you as his thick dick was shoved all the way down your throat, a deep growl coming out of his lips as his rough fingers massaged his tip, spreading the leaking precum and using it as lube to jerk off better.

He swapped to another photo of you smiling brightly at the camera, holding up a piece sign. What a fucking sight for sore eyes. He imagined your pretty face glazed in his thick white cum, tongue tainted by his seed. His hand involuntary moved faster and harder up and down his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke until he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making too much noise, aware enough of the thin walls.

He couldn't wait to go back home to you, making you cuddle up to him and holding you like a lifeline, the plush of your ass pressing up against his cock as you allowed him to grope you, his hands grasping at as much as he could grab while his hard clothed cock rubbed against your ass. You're killing me, brat.

A deep, low moan came out of his lips his cock twitched in his hand, balls tightening up as ropes of thick, white cum shot out, covering his hand. He squeezed his cock a little bit tighter, making sure all his cum was out, taking another look at your pretty face in the selfies before he began cleaning up.

Evidence hidden and with his cock back in his pants he stepped back into the room with the other ghosts, instantly met with the amused faces of Ajax and Kick, clearly holding in their laughter.

"Had some fun, bro?" Ajax asked, not even able to hold in his laugh anymore, Kick following right after.

"Yeah, yeah." Keegan grumbled, rolling his eyes as he sat down and pulled out his flask.

"Next time I'll do it in the same room as you motherfuckers." Logan's frown deepened.

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.” 

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour. 

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers. 

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.” 

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention. 

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed. 

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.” 

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was. 

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes. 

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile. 

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates. 

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?” 

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense. 

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.” 

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time. 

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

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super sorry if ive missed anyone!

[squiddy-god]

your ratio fics have been engraved into my mind...

may i request for dr. ratio and a cheeky professor! male reader? kind of friendly rivals to lovers...?

Hehehehehe i adore this request because i literally love this dynamic with ratio, like just his rivalry to lovers with a fellow professor is *chef kiss* i decided to make the reader an art professor because i feel like that is the dynamic i like the most with ratio. ive been getting alot of male reader request and i absolutly love it. ♥︎request open♥︎ Cw : fluffy, no tw, male!reader, art professor! Reader, “rivals” to lovers, 

The halls of the intelligentsia guild are writhe with the hustle and bustle of students, characteristic uniforms adorning each of them as they carry books and make small conversation before hurrying to a lecture. It was in one such hall that the class of veritas ratio took place, the many subjects that he resides over had landed him in the aptly nicknamed “miscellaneous” hallway as having him move to a different class for every lecture would be “idiotic” and “most tiresome a pursuit that could be avoided by simply providing a class in the miscellaneous hall-” as he put it.

What he did not count on was his new found “rivalry” with the art teacher across the hall. Your first meeting was brought on by several students complaining rather loudly in the halls as ratio walked to his class after his lunch, the subject of their ire none other than you- or rather their failing grade in what they described as “the easiest class to pass” and how they couldn't believe that they were failing your class. During that time he simply waved it off as something that doesn't concern him, after all he had never met you. The second time he heard about you before meeting you was also on a rather sour note, several students beginning to slack off in his class in favor of drawing and working on their respective projects for your class. This incident lead both to their scolding and the scathing email that he sends you, speaking of how clearly your habits as a teacher must me idiodic if your students feel the need to slack off. 

He receives back an email by the end of the day, full of sarcasm and the cheeky quip about how “perhaps someone should check over his prior research as, clearly, he is someone who makes uninformed decision on faulty circumstantial data before seeing it for yourself” and that has him fuming in his empty class. The next day however he is met after classes by the same group who Promptly apologize. 

“Uhm… Dr. Ratio? We'd like to apologize- we shouldn't have slacked off in your class” 

“Yeah Dr. (L/n) made us complete the assignment during his class so we submitted those too-”

“And he wanted us to give you this” one of them hands him a printed flier and he feels his face contort in shock at the apology. Taking the flier into his hands he dismisses the students with a warning to not make the same foolish mistakes twice, the flier says that there is going to be a student art exhibition in a few days.

“Hmmm, how quaint…” he mutters to himself but still takes mental note of the date and time. 

It is all of these things that lead him to his first official meeting with you, still in his characteristic plaster mask he makes his way down the familiar halls where he finds the art exhibition set up in one of the librarys, paintings, sculptures, digital art displayed on screens, and in the middle of the exhibition greeting the guests and pointing out remarkable students is you. You stand in a suit, clothing colorful and an artwork in itself, hands clasped in front of you and a polite smile on your features. The person you currently talk to walks off to enjoy the art and you seem to recognize the good Dr immediately. “Ah! Dr ratio I see you have decided to grace our little exhibition?” you smile as you walk up to him, taking in the plaster head that concealed any expression. “I see the rumors are true, tell me did you make this delightful mask yourself?” your eyes are analytical as you seem to scrutinize every detail of his plaster face, the curve of his roman nose, the gentle curvature of his eyes, the line of his sharp jaw, all of it falls under your watchful gaze and for once ratio feels himself grow slightly nervous. 

This is his first official meeting with you, and he realizes that you are not in fact the idiot or fool he initially assumed, but rather a man with a deep passion for art who much like him doesn't tolerate fools who willingly live in ignorance, and thus your “rivalry” with the good doctor is born. Both artistically and academically he competes with you, as much in the same way that patience breeds success, passion begets passion. 

His hand holds two bags as he walks across the empty call to your class, the afternoon sun that filters through tall windows gives his skin a warm glow as he enters your class finding you at your desk grading with nary a lunch break in sight. Ratio tsks shaking his head, he's no longer dawning his plaster mask, instead letting you see his vague annoyance as he sets one of the bags in front of you, the smell of your favorite food wafting up to your nose. “Oh my savior- to what do I owe the pleasure of being graced by the presence of the esteemed dr. ratio” he rolls his eyes as pulls up a chair. “I do not wish to see you work yourself into the ground” it was a half true statement, truly he didn't want to see you burn out, however what he's concealing is that deep in his chest is a nagging feeling to simply spend time with you, bask in your presence and soak in your company. Your voice seems to sooth the annoyance that seems constantly brewing inside him, smoothing over the creese in his brow as you poke and prod at him with your words, it was an odd feeling to be so indebted to such a fool. He ultimately surmised that while you were a fool you were also far from an idiot and even further from those moronic individuals that invoke his ire by squandering the opportunity of knowledge and basking in ignorance. 

You wipe a pretend tear from your eye as you rifle through the bag. “I didn't know you cared so much doctor” your voice is playful and it causes ratio’s eye to twitch. “Do not be foolish, i simply do not wish to lose the one person in this place that isn't a complete idiot” his voice is so matter of fact that it has your eyes widening at the rare concealed complement. “Oh ratio i didn't know you were in love~” the emphasis on love is followed shortly by a snicker. “So when is the wedding?” If you were to look up at this moment you would be rewarded by the blush that spreads across his skin to the tips of his ears and down his neck to his broad shoulders. For a man who claims to keep his words few and his thoughts deep he speaks often, and yet now he is truly rendered speechless by your cheeky remarks. “Nonesens, are you perhaps blinded to my affection for you?” he tsks again as if the very notion is the definition of ridiculous. “Perhaps my dear professor, you'd care to join me for a date one evening” the for you'd taken up to eat the lunch he had brought you is held precariously between your fingers, one move away from falling, and your mouth is agape in shock as you stare at his burgundy eyes.

 “I…I would be delighted to, veritas.”

[venerawrites]

This is my first time requesting for arcane but, can you write an Ekko x male! reader (fem or Gender neutral is fine if you can't write for male readers) where the reader is really sweet and gentle. They like to forage, bake/cook for Ekko, make toys for the kids of zaun, painting, drawing, and craft stuff like clay rings, mugs, pottery, and make clothes as well.

It can be an imagine or headcanons, I don't mind either way.

author's note: hi! I don't write male readers, but I do write gender-neutral so I hope that's okay! I actually thought this request was super cute and I loved the idea! Hope you enjoy and thank you so much for requesting!

Someone who is sweet and also artistic/crafty is going to be the perfect partner for Ekko. (Not kidding, this young man deserves all the love in the world!)

I imagine you being a part of the Firelights for a few years before Ekko gained the courage to ask you out.

Don't get me wrong, he had a crush on you way before that!

He saw something special in you the day you joined - the way you carried yourself, the little splatter of paint on your shirt, the big bag of art materials you brought with you, the way you warmly smiled at the kids and they took an immediate liking to you - it all made him look at you in a different light from everyone else.

However, having lost so many people in his life, he didn't want to risk catching feelings. So despite the initial attraction, he did keep his distance at first. He was a good leader, always making sure to check on you and ask how are you adjusting to the life as a Firelight, but he also always seemed to keep the conversations short and polite.

Ekko always had his eye on you - whenever he heard your melodic laugh or children screaming in joy (because they always did when you were around), his head whipped in your direction almost instinctively.

Because of your wide range of skills, especially when it comes to crafting things, it didn't take long for you to become everyone's favourite - you often build toys for the kids and played with them in your free time, which is why all of them got attached to you pretty quickly. When someone needed their clothes fixed or wished for a change of their usual 'uniform', they always came to you.

The man was a bit taken aback at first - he kept seeing everyone, including Scar, coming with new jackets, shirts, and even masks, yet he didn't seem to know how and where they got it from. Once he learned it was in fact you making them, he couldn't help but smile - so you were quite the crafty person, huh?

He came a few days later with his ruined jacket (he may or may have not actually ruined it on purpose), asking you to fix it. As he was the leader, you spent all afternoon sewing, so he could have it ready for the mission the next day. When you gave it to him during dinner, he was both surprised and also amazed - not only did you fix it quickly, but you also made it better by adding some details to it.

(Needless to say this became his favourite piece of clothing ever! It was also not the last time he came to you, asking you to 'fix' his clothes...)

That evening was the first time the realisation he might like you in a different way than every other member hit him like a ton of bricks.

And it did scare him! So much, so that he made it almost his mission to avoid you. Every time you entered a room, he quickly excused himself, and if by chance you caught him looking at you, he would quickly turn around, the tips of his ears going a few shades darker.

His plan didn't work that well, however, as you being one of the few people who can draw/paint, you were assigned to work on the wall mural. He had to supervise the work and therefore interact with you, and to be honest, it was quite awkward for a bit.

I imagine you would notice his weird behaviour, but would not address it as you were not sure why he was giving you mixed "hot & cold" signals. You would continue treating him like usual and eventually, after a few days of tense atmosphere between you (and also a bit of 'scolding' from Scar), he would apologize and actually relax around you.

Ekko is funny, loving, protective, kind, passionate, and a man that I cannot imagine anyone NOT falling in love with. So probably it did take you embarrassingly short time to catch feelings for him.

He may be a bit slow when it comes to his own feelings and emotions, but he is very good when it comes to reading everyone else's. So when you made him a special mug for his birthday and gave to him while your face looked like it was about to explode, he put 2+2 together.

This is when flirting Ekko unlocks and - PHEW! - this man has no mercy!

He loves to tease you just so he can see you as a flustered mess. While he is very confident as a leader and fighter, he still think it's unreal that you can catch feelings for someone like him - he comes with so much emotional baggage, that he cannot really understand what do you see in him.

(Not that he is complaining, because once he asks you out and you say 'yes', he doesn't plan to EVER let you go!)

Once you are together, he would always organise fun dates including crafting or making stuff - either he will teach you how to make tech stuff in his workshop or you will teach him how to make clay rings, dishes and pottery.

He loves how gifted you are and would often tease you by asking you: "Is there anything you can’t do?"

Very proud of you and the fact that you are his partner! He usually likes to keep his private matters to himself, but if he has a drink or two, EVERYONE is hearing about how skilled you are, how every body loves you (especially him) and how lucky he is to have you not only in his life, but also living in the Firelight base.

Speaking of living, despite the relationship progressing slowly, he would practically make you move in to his room just a few months after getting together. He loves going to sleep and waking up by your side and while usually you were staying with him only occasionally, he will have a long chat with you of the benefits to share a room.

"C'mon, don't you want to sleep in the leader's bed? Hey, hey, I'm kidding! But seriously, you come here almost every night and I do sleep better when you are by my side, so why not?"

Watching you interact with the kids in the base and even in Zaun has to be his absolute weak spot. He can never hide his smile and dreamy gaze when he watches you giving them new gifts/toys and he falls in love even deeper every time he sees you hug them and stroke their heads lovingly.

His other weak spot has to be your cooking! (The way to a man's heart is through his stomach after all!) He is pretty good cook himself, so dates in the kitchen are a pretty often occurrence for you.

Still, he can never match your skill when it comes to baking and desserts and he loves when you spoil him by making his favourite cakes/sweet food. He loves to watch you cooking, often sitting on the table and quietly sipping his tea, while observing you.

The Firelights love you as a couple and are happy it is you by Ekko's side - he suffered a lot and has been alone the majority of his life, so he deserves all the love and happiness you can offer.

cc artwork: Tekkon Kinkreet

[bonelessghoul]

In the Shadows of Chains

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x femaleOC (probably feels more like a reader but I named her Julia bc typing out y/n was getting on my nerves lol)

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: def 18+ for unprotected seggs and a short and sweet smut scene, otherwise just mild descriptions of violence in the arena

Summary: Julia Valentis, the daughter of a newly appointed Senator, welcomes home her General in secret after almost a year apart. Things are different this time though and neither want their relationship to continue in secret. However, Julia suspects her father may have made other plans for her future when a certain emperor takes interest in her.

Authors note: can’t believe this is what took me out of my hiatus but here we are, in all fairness I didn’t really thoroughly edit this before deciding to post so pls be kind <3 or don’t, it’s okay. I hope you all enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the heart of Rome, celebration roared under the golden light that spilled from hanging lamps. An excess of good spirits filled the air as much as it filled the goblets of the elite. The warm light and abundance of laughter reverberated off of the marble floors and the mosaics above their heads. It was more dreamy than even common folk could imagine. With the twins in power, most nights were like this.

Julia Valentis stood near the edge of the atrium, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her goblet out of boredom.

She watched the crowd with a practiced and mastered detachment, offering polite nods to passing senators and their wives. Their gazes were not as subtle as they seemed and the same ones who watched her grow were now the same ones pressuring her father to marry her off. Since her father’s appointment, she’s been careful not to draw any attention to herself. She didn’t want her future under scrutiny as futile as that seemed.

Regardless, her focus was elsewhere as she leaned her shoulder against the cold stone of the column beside her.

Marcus Acacius, the General, stood at the center of the gathering, towering in his uniform of white and gold, surrounded by admirers eager to hear tales of his triumphs abroad. She too eagerly awaited his arrival, its anticipation creating a knot in her stomach all day. But even now, as she watched from afar, she knew she could not have him under the eyes of her father and his fellow Senators.

Instead, she watched as his eyes drifted around through conversation until they found hers.

It was only a glance, but it was enough.

Even after several months without his presence in the city, the soft eyes from across the room reeled her in as it did the day he left. The corner of his mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smile, a gesture meant only for her as though it may seem it was for whoever he was speaking to.

Julia felt her heart quicken, warmth blooming in her chest every time. She looked away quickly, playing oblivious.

They hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year, not since the night before his departure. She had wished him well in the shadows of her father’s garden, her fingers grazing his face as she whispered her fears for his safety. Now, he was back, and though he stood surrounded by Rome’s most powerful and most lustful, the weight of his gaze made her feel as though they were alone.

As the night wore on, Julia carefully wove her way through the crowd, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

Occasionally, she was pulled into polite conversation in regards to her future. But she was able to escape as fast as they caught her. Marcus did the same, stepping away from his admirers under the guise of needing a moment to breathe.

The gardens that stretched out from the villa signified the day they first met.

Even though she could not see him, Julia followed the musk of flowers and herbs under the moonlight and remnants of light from the party. She was met with a gentle breeze that made it intoxicating, between the chase and the richness of the gardens. Her robes of varying shades of blues were a thin veil between the air and the goosebumps that rose on her skin, but she nearly blended in with the night—it’s what made it so easy to sneak up on Marcus.

In the furthest corner of the garden away from prying eyes, only Julia was capable of sneaking upon the General and without a moments hesitation she pounced and wrapped her arms around his shoulder with a small leap.

“You have to be more careful, General. Someone could hurt you out here.”

Under his armor that she could barely wrap her arm around, she felt him tense but he turned, meeting her embrace and despite being startled, his eyes softened quickly at the sight of her.

“You’re here,” he murmured, his voice raw, a smile creeping upon his face.

One strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her close against his large frame and the other cupping her face. The moonlight caressed every inch of her skin, a white sparkle to her eyes that looked up at him adoringly as they began to prick with tears. Marcus himself looked to be in disbelief that she was even here, the mere thought of her leaving crumbling him in that moment.

“Of course I’m here,” she replied, her own voice trembling with emotion. “How could I not be?”

He kissed her then, a desperate, searching kiss that spoke of a year’s worth of longing and unspoken words. She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as if to anchor him down to her. They melded together, shadows dancing across their features like they would slip away into the darkness itself.

When they finally broke apart, Marcus rested his forehead against hers, his breath uneven. “I thought of you every day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand slid down his arm, her fingers brushing the cool metal of his bracer.

“And I thought of you,” she said softly. “Every day, I prayed for your safe return.”

For a moment, there was only silence, the kind that carried the weight of everything they couldn’t say. The tears that pricked her eyes had snuck through, and she thought of every night she cried when she missed him most. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw something else—a shadow, a burden he hadn’t carried before. Suddenly, her childish tears felt small.

“Marcus,” she said, her tone shifting, “what is it? What happened?”

He turned away, his jaw tightening. “I did what was required of me. What the Emperor demanded. Now I am home.”

Her hand found his, and she squeezed it gently. Since they first found each other in this very space, it was no secret that the honor he carried had a heavier weight behind it.

She cupped his face to keep his eyes on hers.

“The cost is feeling greater, is it not?”

His shoulders sagged, the proud soldier’s facade cracking as his own hands wrapped her wrists.

“Villages burned, families torn apart. It’s what they call victory, but it feels like—” He stopped, unable to finish the thought.

Julia stepped closer, if that was even possible.

“You carry the weight of the Empire on your shoulders, Marcus. But that weight doesn’t define who you are. You cannot let this guilt break you down.”

He looked at her, his expression a mixture of gratitude and anguish. “And what am I, Julia? A weapon in service of men who care only for power?”

“You are more than that,” she insisted, her voice firm. “You are kind. You are brave. And you are mine, if only in moments like these.”

Her words broke through the darkness in his eyes, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe them. He pulled her into his arms, holding her as though she might vanish.

“And you, my love are that and more.” Marcus said with a heavy exhale. “I’ve missed your voice, even your small hands trying to subdue me.”

Julia chuckled, her cheek rested on his chest. No matter how garnished with his valor, she felt his heart thumping beneath her ear and her soul was at peace, her own heart beating with his once again.

“These hands can do a lot more than attack you in a garden.”

But the sound of voices from the atrium reminded them of reality. Marcus pulled back reluctantly, his hand brushing a stray curl from her face.

“We can’t stay,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

“No,” she agreed, though her heart ached to remain in his embrace. “But we’ll have this.”

He nodded, his lips brushing her forehead before he stepped away, disappearing into the shadows of the garden. Julia remained for a moment longer, her hands trembling as she steeled herself to return to the party.

When she finally reentered the atrium, her gaze found Marcus again. He stood among the crowd, his expression unreadable, but when their eyes met, she saw the truth; the way his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes as he endured the words of praise.

No matter what happened, they would always find each other and she had to take comfort in that if nothing else at all.

~

The early light of dawn crept into the house of the General, tapping upon Julia’s eyelids as the sky grew the slightest bit brighter and she awoke with a sharp inhale. Her head turned and even as she registered the soft silk sheets she lie in, she still had to make sure Marcus was beside her. To no surprise, he lay there on his back, head slack as it faced her and her heart thrummed at the softness in his expression as his chest slowly rose and fell.

She wondered when he had last slept like this; certainly before he departed in the first place. A soft and tired smile made its way upon her lips and she shuffled herself closer, careful not to wake him as her hand rested upon his chest.

Julia dreamt of moments like these while he was gone. Even while her father tried his hardest to make her into a suitable wife for others, she never stopped thinking of him. She wondered if her father new that, but since his new role as a senator, the hope for freedom in choice was dwindling. His newfound sense of influence had reached its claws into her own life now.

Deep in thought, her eyes had shut again but she felt her General stir beneath her hand and before she knew it, his body enveloped her and pulled her closer to the warmth he emanated.

“I must be dreaming.” Marcus said, voice still raspy from slumber.

A smile crept on her face as she looked up at him, lips pressing against the stubble on his jawline. She felt his muscles pull into a grin and then his face angled down towards hers to meet her lips. Their fullness pushed against hers as his hand slid from her back to her bottom. In the tangle of the cool sheets he lifted her leg over his hip and her entire core tensed.

“It’s not a dream, my love. Nor was the night before.” Julia said breathlessly between kisses.

Even as the cool morning air gusted through the room, the heat that rose in her chest was undeniably creeping up to her cheeks as they lazily kissed each other and pulled each other closer.

“Marcus,” Julia whispered, her breath itching as his fingers slid down to the lips between her legs.

He hummed against her neck where his lips caressed the most sensitive of spots where her pulse met the curve of her shoulder. Her nails dug into his shoulder blade, the other in his hair, and as his fingers slipped inside her entire body arched into him. A small gasp escaped her lips.

“Yes?” he asked slyly, lips finding her own again.

Marcus guided his body atop hers, her back flat across the sheets and fingers still gliding in and out of her. He deepened his motions, a soft moan reverberating through her chest as he retreated them momentarily. The pleasure came in small waves at first.

“Marcus.” Julia whined, her voice firmer now as she looked at the cunning glare to his eyes. But it was then that she realized how his hair sat in different directions from his sleep, and she couldn’t resist her giggle as she looked up at it.

“You mock me? When I have you at my finger tips?”

She gasped with a faux sense of betrayal, watching as him and his hair a mess from bed creeped down her abdomen.

“My love, I would never mock you.” Julia grinned. “Please forgive me— and put your fingers back where they were.”

He looked up at her through his brows, kisses trailing down her abdomen, sending trills of flutters through her spine with every touch. Her head dipped back as she inched her hips closer to him, but his lips did not quite find her core just yet. Instead, they trailed around her thighs, firmly pressing against the space between her thigh and the one spot that yearned for his touch.

“Please, Marcus.” Julia moaned, fingers clawing through his hair.

But his arms wrapped around her thighs, one hand creeping up to her breast and the other finger taunting the wetness that seeped from her, he didn’t budge. He resisted the gentle pull you made in his dark, graying locks of hair.

“Please, what carissima?” He asked, his breath hot against you as his lips neared closer to your throbbing core.

She grinned, chuckling menacingly and interrupting herself with a soft gasp as his fingers played with the folds, nearing dangerously closer to the inside and creating a painful throb to her muscles. The waves of pleasure grew larger, lulling against her soul.

“Must you make me beg? After so long away from you?” Julia groaned, her breasts tender from his movement and pulling her closer.

“I want to know if you still lust for me after my time away.”

“I did. Last night.” She answered in a huff, moaning as lips grew closer to her clit.

“I want to hear it again.” he said, tongue creeping out to where his fingers play.

She felt drenched at his command, her body inching closer and hands wrapped around his hair and his wrist, clutching it so hard it would leave a mark.

“You are such a brute, Marcus.” Julia cried. “Fuck me like I haven’t seen you in a year.” she said with annoyance.

If she could slap him she would, when she felt the grin of his lips against her thigh. But he didn’t fail to deliver to her begging and as his warm tongue met her folds his fingers slipped in as well, and Julia cried out. Her entire will bent at his mouth this very second, the heat rising in her chest as the muscles of her core tightened. In this moment, not a worry outside these walls existed as she grew closer to her climax, the smallest beads of sweat creeping at her temple.

Every stroke of his tongue, every movement of his fingers, was deliberate. He knew her body as well as he knew the battlefield, and he was determined to conquer her completely. Julia’s cries filled the room, her fingers gripping the sheets as her release washed over her like a tidal wave.

“Marcus,” Julia said breathlessly. “Don’t finish me just yet.”

He looked up at her, eyes adoringly lifting as he caught his breath. His fingers still glided through her folds, pushing deeper still, as he looked at her and it was as beautiful as the murals painted in their most prestigious buildings. He was carved from her and in this moment melded into her with every thrust into her.

“Oh, I have no intentions of finishing you here.” Marcus said, pushing himself up on his arms, the muscles gleaming in the early morning light that just barely pierced his windows.

There was a faint disappointment of the feeling at her core dissipating but she was eager for him to truly be inside of her.

He crept up so his face was above hers, her lips slightly parted in the awe at his beauty and the dominance that he bestowed upon her. She felt his cock slowly push up against her, the wetness guiding him in with ease. She moaned, looking into his eyes as dark as the night itself, watching his brows furrow as he pushed himself inside of her.

“You call for me, carrisima.” he said arrogantly, slowly pushing himself in.

“No, you call for me.” Julia said through breaths, pitch high as she wrapped her arms around his back.

He thrust into her, forearm up against the sideline of her head while the other hand became entangled in her hair. Their eyes never left each other and Julia felt alive with every thrust, knowing he was home and he was here once again no matter the secrecy. Nothing could undermine the love she felt for him as especially now as his body towered hers.

“I do call for you.” he grunted, hand pulling at her hair and arching her neck. “Every night I was gone; I counted the days until you were mine again.”

His pace quickened as did her heart beat, a whimper escaping her lips when he came down upon her, burying his face in her neck as he thrust into her. The sweat and the sweet kisses shared between them were not enough, and her legs wrapped around him to pull him in.

She pulled him in, pulling in the feeling of her core tightening with every cry she made upon his neck.

“Oh, Marcus…” Julia breathed. “I’m so close.”

“I know.” he rasped, withdrawing ever so slightly just to see her face. “I know.”

Her walls tightened around him and her legs began to quake, her climax nearing as his cock pushed against her boundaries. She called his name and his lips found hers, the moans passing through the General’s lips reverberating against her own as the climax poured out over him and his poured into her. Her legs relaxed and his body slumped over her, their breaths catching and the silence that filled the room now lingering over them.

“I love you, Julia.” Marcus exhaled, finally pulling his cock from her stiff muscles, leaving behind the warmth that still lingered in her amongst her own.

“And I love you, Marcus.” she smiled, looking at him as the earliest sunlight created a halo around his head.

Her heart ached with the knowledge that this moment, stolen from the chaos of their lives, could not last. Even as they remained tangled in the sheets of his chambers, faces flushed and hearts racing, Julia ran through a list of all the things she had to face once she left his room.

Marcus’s brown eyes softened, a sight not often seen from the hardened General.

“I know that look. What troubles you?” he asked, hand stroking her cheek as she lay her head on his chest.

“It pains me to leave you.”

Marcus kissed her forehead, a simple gesture that made her wish to be confined to this bed forever. But his silence at her confession only made her more wary now and she raised her body to look down on him. It was then that she could sense his own mind deep in thought by the way his eyes averted hers.

“And what troubles you?” Julia asked firmly, leaning her arms on his chest as he held her close.

“Too much for you to bear, my love.” Marcus sighed.

Her brows furrowed, and she scoffed. “I may not be a solider in your army but I am tougher than I look. You know that.”

The way his eyes seemed to find the ceiling and a weight settled on his shoulders, Julia could sense his wavering certainty and it created a sense of doubt within her own mind. Was he going to tell her they couldn’t do this anymore? Had he found someone else abroad? She remained as stoic as stone as her heart started to tear itself apart on mere hypotheticals.

“Have you considered…”Marcus began, “telling your father? His initial disapproval I feel may be changed now.”

Her head tilted, the words not registering at first.

“About us?”

Marcus’s eyes finally met hers and now, she was stumped as he was. It wasn’t a horrible idea upon his return, knowing the twins have offered him much praise in his honor even if it meant little to them. Things were more different than they were at the beginning of their fleeting romance and the prospect of making it real was unfathomable.

She never considered it a real possibility before. She had the luxury of avoiding the reality of her life; the reality of having to marry, the reality of her father as a senator, and more. Her life had been only recently been measured in these moments with Marcus and she never once considered any implications beyond it.

“You would truly want that? My life and yours, bound together even with your coming and going?”

Marcus looked at her like she had struck him. It took her by surprise and even she was surprised, the words not feeling real as they even passed from his lips.

“How could you think I wouldn’t want the rest of my life to be spent with yours?” he asked.

Tears pricked Julia’s eyes and she laughed. A misconceived emotion for the moment she tried to refrain but she laughed again as the tears blurred her vision. They were all stemmed from a joy that blossomed from her chest, one that became overwhelming as she rested her chin on his chest. Her entire body tensed at the thought of an average life with him and the dreams became a momentary reality.

“I will talk to him after the games today.” Julia said, exasperated by the mere thought.

Marcus stroked her hair off her face as she looked up at him. Their bliss was temporary now, but Julia could only dream of a time where it wasn’t—where it could be every day. The love she felt under his gaze was as warm as the sun, and she would risk everything to stay in bask in it longer. But the morning was creeping in and as was the time she was meant to be home. Her cover could only be hid by so many shadows

She dressed quietly, leaving him a dozen more stolen kisses before slipping into the still-silent villa.

~

The city was stirring by the time she arrived home. Her father was already preparing for the day’s events, servants bustling around him as they made ready for the games.

Julia moved through her morning routine with the ease of someone accustomed to suppressing her emotions, though her mind remained on Marcus—on his touch, his words, the way he had held her as though she were the only thing tethering him to the world. All she could think of was this evening when she could ask her father about the idea of marrying the General. In these times they had to tread carefully with matters such as this and even still, the question was hanging on the tip of her tongue the entire day.

By the time she and her father arrived at the arena, the seats were already filling with Rome’s finest and she was dressed the most beautifully among them. Since becoming Senator, her father has afforded not just staff by those who had become close friends to Julia. Today, he commanded they make her look fit for a princess; it made her wonder if he already knew what she planned to ask today.

The roar of the crowd, eager for blood and glory, echoed across the massive amphitheater. Julia took her place near her father among the other Senators, her seat positioned to reflect her family’s status without drawing undue attention. Across the way, Marcus stood among the other honored soldiers, his crimson cloak catching the sunlight. She could feel him enter the arena without so much as looking his way, but when she did, she found him.

Their eyes met briefly, a fleeting moment that sent warmth through her despite the cold marble beneath her. She offered him a subtle smile—small enough to avoid suspicion but enough for him to see. Marcus’ gaze lingered, his tension visible even from a distance. Flashbacks of their morning and the prior night flashed through her eyes, a ripple running through her at the thought.

It was then that Julia noticed another gaze lingering on her: the piercing, calculating eyes of Geta.

The Emperor’s reclined lazily in their seats, a goblet of wine in hand. His smile was sharp and humorless as he studied her, almost mocking, as though she were another prize to be won in the games below. Julia forced herself to look away, her stomach twisting with unease.

“Lady Julia,” Geta’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise of the crowd.

She was not so easily deflecting.

His tone was pleasant, almost disarming, but there was a cruelty in his eyes that made her blood run cold. A hungry look to them that made her feel exposed.

“Would you do us the honor of presenting the laurel to our champion today?”

The part of the arena of which she sat in fell quiet, every eye turning toward her. Even her father seemed caught off guard, his expression carefully neutral as he inclined his head toward her.

“I would be honored.” Julia choked out, her tone perfectly unfazed.

The pale boy smirked grossly. “Then perhaps you would not mind the view of the games from here instead.”

Julia felt herself pale to the sickly color of him and his brother.

“Go, my dear. It is a great honor.”

It wasn’t so much as an honor as much it was that she didn’t have a choice.

Julia rose slowly, her heart pounding.

The honor of this was true among her new social circle, but anyone who had the slightest ounce of the twins and their antics would not be so easily calmed as a random subject of their amusement.

She felt Marcus’ gaze on her, sharp and protective, but she dared not look his way. Instead, she focused on keeping her steps measured and her expression serene as she ascended the steps to where royalty sat.

His brother, Caracalla laughed maniacally at her arrival and the small monkey upon his shoulder cried to her at the same pitch that made her jump just a little. She bowed to the Emperor’s and she was startled to see Geta’s hand reach out. Politely, she took it as he guided her to a chair brought out for her besides Lucilla who only cast her a warm smile that disappeared as quickly as it flashed upon her face.

Julia’s stomach was spun into knots, so much so it kept her voice trapped deep within as she took a seat. Up above, Marcus sat and she briefly made eye contact with him before turning back to face the fight.

She bore witness to the cruel remarks of the brothers as the fights ensued down below. They offered her a goblet of wine which she gracefully took if it meant she could endure this better.

The crowd roared as the gladiators fought below, their cheers echoing against the massive stone walls of the Colosseum. Julia sat uncomfortably beside Emperor Geta, her back straight and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The tension in the emperor’s private box was palpable, even as those around them laughed and clapped.

“Do you see that, Lady Julia?” Geta leaned closer, his voice carrying enough volume for others to hear. He gestured toward the arena, where a battered gladiator struggled to stand against his opponent. “He’s weak but refuses to give up. Admirable, isn’t it?”

Julia forced a tight smile, nodding. “Yes, Emperor.”

Geta smirked, clearly unsatisfied with her lackluster response. “Admirable indeed. But tell me, what would you do if you were in his position?” His tone was sharp, a challenge disguised as a casual question.

Julia’s cheeks flushed as the crowd’s attention turned toward her. She could feel Marcus’s eyes on her from where he stood nearby, tension radiating from him.

“Come now, girl,” Geta pressed, his smirk deepening. “You are not shy, are you? Speak up.”

Caracalla chuckled beside her, leaving her more uneasy than she wished.

Julia hesitated, searching for an answer that would satisfy him without betraying her growing discomfort.

“I suppose I would fight until I could no longer stand, as any Roman would.”

Geta laughed loudly, the sound grating. “A brave sentiment from someone who has never lifted a sword.”

And have you lifted a sword in such context, Emperor?

All she could think about was Marcus, a true warrior and honorable man. Perhaps her underlying disdain for the twins was that she witnessed the way they treated him so carelessly. They used him as a weapon of their own and she hated them for it.

The courtiers around them chuckled nervously, but Marcus’s jaw tightened. He watched the emperor’s gaze linger on Julia, the thinly veiled malice in his tone disguised as jest.

“Perhaps,” Geta continued, leaning back in his chair, “we should test that resolve. What do you think, Marcus?” He turned his piercing eyes toward the soldier.

Marcus stiffened but kept his expression neutral. “I think she has answered you wisely, Emperor.”

“Ah, ever the diplomat,” Geta mused, his smirk returning. “But I was hoping for more entertainment. Shall we?”

“Let the tigers out! Rip them limb from limb!” Caracalla cried out.

Julia’s stomach twisted as Geta gestured for one of his attendants, whispering something. Moments later, a young, unarmed slave was ushered into the arena. The crowd fell silent in confusion as a hulking gladiator approached the trembling boy.

“Watch carefully, Julia,” Geta said, his voice dripping with mockery. “This boy is in a position not unlike the one you imagined. Let’s see if he has your resolve.”

Marcus shifted closer to Julia, even as he sat a row behind her she could feel his presence looming in comfort. She flinched at the sight below but forced herself to keep her composure, even as her heart screamed in protest.

As the fight began, Julia clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms.

She didn’t look at Geta, but she could feel his gaze on her, drinking in her discomfort like fine wine. Marcus, meanwhile, was seething quietly, his thoughts a storm of anger and helplessness.

Julia didn’t need to look at him to know he hated this as much as she did. For what reason did she need to be singled out today! Her mind couldn’t wrap her head around it; how she became the source of entertainment for the brothers.

A gladiator, bloodied and triumphant, awaited her at the center. Her mind had gone numb to the bloodshed of the slain down below, not even realizing there was a victor now.

Julia took the laurel crown from an attendant, her hands steady despite the weight of the moment. The crowd cheered as she placed the crown on the gladiator’s head, her voice clear as she proclaimed him victorious.

But when she turned to leave, Geta spoke again, his hand raised to stop her in her steps.

“Stay a moment, Lady Julia,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery as his cold fingers lifted her chin. “Let the people see the face of Roman virtue.”

The crowd roared its approval, and Julia felt the heat of humiliation creep up her neck. She stood still, her posture perfect, her expression composed. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

From his place among the honored guests, Marcus gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white. He was a soldier, trained to remain composed, but every instinct in him screamed to intervene. He knew Geta’s game—the prince was testing her, asserting his dominance in a way that only he could get away with.

Julia endured it, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours before Geta finally waved his hand dismissively. She returned to her seat with her head held high, though her heart raced with the effort of maintaining her composure.

When she finally sat down, she allowed herself a brief glance toward Marcus. His expression was stormy, his jaw tight, but when their eyes met, his gaze softened. In that moment, she knew he saw her strength, and it was enough to soothe the lingering ache of Geta’s scrutiny.

The arena emptied and she reluctantly slipped away under the guise of her father, walking among the Senators and their daughters who she blended in with ease. Her heart was racing, pumping blood to her ears so that she could not hear a word outside of the ringing it brought.

Perhaps her dream, the one her and Marcus shared merely this morning, would have to be delayed.

As Julia followed in the trail of the Emperor’s circle, a hand brushed by her own.

She nearly jolted away from the touch, suspicious of the twins and if one of them had lingered behind, but much to her relief, she briefly glanced over to see Marcus.

She didn’t have to fully turn her head to recognize his armor, the way he stood tall over her and the slightest grays to his dark head of hair. Even if unnoticed by others, the simple brush of his hard knuckles across her own was enough to keep her worst fears at bay and know that he was close.

Whatever the Emperor had planned, she was determined to tell her father tonight where her heart truly lied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please let me know if this sucks or not thank you <3

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Job Swap

“Oh it's beautiful!” exclaimed the customer waiting in line. I handed her a nicely decorated cake for her son's birthday.

“It's no big deal. Just doing my job.” I acted like it was no big deal, but really I was gladly accepting the praise!

“This is perfect though. Have you considered being an artist?” she replied with a slightly more serious look.

“Yes I have actually…but the job market is tough.”

“Aww you'll get there eventually! Don't give up! Well anyway, you made my day so for that, thank you!”

“You're welcome.” I was a bit sad though, because she was right; I SHOULD be an artist. I recently earned my bachelor's degree, but yet I was still stuck in this dumb hick town, working as a grocery store cake decorator. I may have been good at what I do but I wouldn't want to do it forever!

At least my co-workers are pretty decent, especially my fellow bakery buddies, Chase, Amber, and Domingo. Amber was cool and didn't take anyone’s shit, which is why I loved seeing her because I didn't have much confidence when dealing with unruly customers. Domingo was very sweet, and even though he didn't speak very good English, he's hella good at his job. And Chase, well…he's hot! His bleach blond hair somehow always caught the light at a perfect angle. I don't know how I even kept my focus when he's working next to me.

At the end of my shift, I clocked out, and decided to buy a couple groceries like I normally did. I scanned everything at the self-checkout, put the receipt into one of my bags, and started walking towards the exit. The store had 2 exits on either side of the front, but I only took one because the other had a certain asshole at it - Richard.

The greeter position was removed a long time ago, but they bring it back for employees that have been injured or are too old, so that they can keep their jobs. Now this old guy named Richard had surgery a long time ago and became the greeter while he recovered. But yet he never went back to his old position.

He always stays at one specific entrance, and the reason I hated him so much was because he's racist. Part of his job has him checking customers’ receipts to make sure they didn't steal anything, which seems pretty unnecessary when you have those anti-theft machines at the exit. But I've seen him. The only people he checks the receipts for are minorities. It's not a subtle thing either; he’s super friendly, greeting and saying goodbye to all the white people passing but when it comes to someone who's not, his demeanor suddenly changes. 

My luck must've run out today, because I found the sliding glass doors at my usual exit were broken and currently being fixed. The area was blocked off by a barricade, and I knew there was only one other way to leave. I headed over to the other exit, and there Richard was, waving goodbye to a white mother and her toddler. He was wearing his typical gray uniform shirt that was clearly too small, because you could see his gut and nipples trying to poke through. Gross.

I moved through the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it was all for nothing because right on cue, Richard walked up to me and gave a great big (and so obviously fake) smile.

“Hello sir, can I see your receipt please?”

“Richard, it's me, Marco. I work in the bakery. You've seen me a million times before.” His smile suddenly faded, and his eyes narrowed, as if every ounce of happiness in his body just vanished.

“That's no excuse. How do I know you aren't stealing?”

“Because I want to keep my job?”

“Don't backtalk to me. You seem awfully suspicious today.” He then reached for his walkie talkie and started to page a manager. I really was able to walk out with no repercussions because I truly didn't steal anything, but there's a chance he would page the Asset Protection lady, who was almost as awful.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Nobody answered him. Thank god.

“Am I free to go now?” I said happily. The anger returned to his face.

“Just don't let me catch you stealing again. Or there'll be consequences!”

“Yeah…suuuure.” I walked out the door, into my car, and back home. I can't believe some people honestly. I was so sick of this town! I needed to move away real soon.

When I got home my dog, Kenny, was excited to greet me as usual so I let him outside to do his business while I got into my running clothes, prepping for a run. As I let Kenny back in, I went to check the mail and found a weird envelope in between the bills and spam. I opened it up and it was a letter addressed “to whom it may concern”. I threw it away without a second thought but Kenny suddenly ran up to the trash can, took it out, and placed it back in front of me.

“You really want me to read this, don't you boy?” I said cheerily as I patted him on the head.

“To whom it may concern,

Are you struggling with your current job? Unhappy with the life you have? Well I have just the cure for that! We are now selling happiness inducing coins for only $1 with free shipping! One flip of this coin will guarantee you will soon get a job you love! Get it fast before it all runs out! Just follow the link on the back of this letter if you are interested.” - VV

I wondered who or what VV was supposed to be, and $1 with free shipping sounds too good to be true, so this seemed like a scam. I also wasn't a superstitious person,  but for some reason my gut was telling me that this was a good idea. Kenny seemed to think so too as he was wagging his tail under the table and I read. I followed the link listed on the back of the page, typing in each random letter and number combination into my phone and ordered the lucky coin. I went to bed that night feeling a little more hopeful.

The next day at work was just like the previous day, only the door was fixed so I didn't have to walk out the exit Richard was standing at. We did make eye contact though, and he shot me a dirty look. I got home to find that the package had already arrived, which was awfully quick. I cut open the box and inside was a golden coin with a picture of a brain on it. The other side had a picture of a person with their arms spread wide. It was a really weird design. I read the instructions.

How to use:

Flip the coin

No matter what side it lands on, you'll be guaranteed happiness in your new job!

It sounded so lame, but I followed the instructions anyway. I flipped the coin the air, and slapped it on the back of my other hand. Tails. Nothing happened. I guess it was just $1 so it wasn't a huge waste of my time. It's pretty cool looking so maybe I could display it on my dresser or something.

I felt especially tired the rest of the night, but I was fine because I had a day off tomorrow. I was gonna go to the park with Kenny, as well as do a few errands. I was just glad I had time away from my job.

The next morning my alarm went off for some reason. I must've accidently set it by mistake. The weirder thing was Kenny wasn't there. Normally at the sound of my alarm, he comes running from wherever he was sleeping, and jumps on the bed to get me up. But there was nothing. When I started to truly wake up and become more alert, I realized that my alarm was set to the default or something. Instead of my usual calming piano, it was an annoying ringing. I opened my eyes to see what was happening. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I wasn't in my own room.

What happened? Did someone kidnap me? The alarm clock wasn't even on a phone, but rather it was an actual alarm clock. I had no idea what was going on, but I reached over to turn it off so I could think. I'm certain I must've been kidnapped somehow but why? And why would they set an alarm clock? I couldn't see but felt around the nightstand for a clue and found a pair of glasses. When I tried them on, just like that, my vision returned to normal. I had perfect vision before! Why did I suddenly need glasses? I reached up to scratch my head and found my hairline was incredibly receded. I was balding! I looked down with my now clear vision to find an even worse fact. I was chubby!

I sat up and stared at the foreign gut and two large man tits, as well as numerous graying chest hairs. I ran my hands through the hair, pinching them to make sure they were real. I pinched the tits as well, and felt sensations I've never felt before as they wobbled when I let go. I ran my hands through my face and felt a mustache and double chin, and began feeling nauseous at the thought of what I actually looked like. I didn't see a mirror in the room so I walked out the door trying to find a bathroom. The fat jiggled all around as I ran.

I got to the bathroom and nearly puked on the spot when I saw who I was. Richard. Oh god no. Of all people, I had to look like this racist bastard? I stared at myself and grazed my hands along my face. Suddenly I felt angry and started pinching it instead, as if I was doing the same thing to the real Richard, but denial didn't help; that was my face and it hurt. I touched his mustache and pinched it, as if it would come off. 

Just then I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't want to interact with anybody looking like this but until I figured out how to fix it, I knew I had to pretend to be Richard. I answered the door to find the mailman.

“Howdy Rich! Woah uh.” He stared at my chest. I forgot I was still shirtless. Having this much fat hanging from my body was almost like answering the door naked. “I see you've lost some weight!” he said, obviously lying.

“Oh uh, thanks.” I replied, trying to imitate Richard’s voice, which was pretty easy considering I've mocked him before.

“Well anyway, not much today; just a letter.” He handed me a letter with a purple stamp on it.

“Well uh see you tomorrow!” The mailman went on his way and I closed the door. I opened the letter and found a note similar to the lucky coin advertisement.

To whom it may concern,

Good morning! I trust that your lucky coin worked well? Welcome to your new life! As promised, you now have a job that you love. Unhappy with the results? Just flip the coin once again, and make sure it lands on what it landed on before! If not, however, your fate is sealed. Best Wishes! - VV, Venefica Viola

Shit. They're not lying though. Richard did love his job. And since I was in his body, I now had that job! But who is this Venefica Viola? It sounded like Latin somehow. I walked back to the bedroom to find Richard’s phone. Luckily he didn't have any lock screen pin so I could easily get in. I searched for a translator, dodging the random pop up ads that were everywhere on his phone and looked up Venefica Viola.

Violet Witch. So magic is involved somehow. I needed to get my coin back so I could undo this! It must still be at my own house. Shit! I just realized why the alarm clock went off. Richard worked today! He had perfect attendance and never uses his PTO, so not going in was gonna look suspicious. I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 20 minutes. 

Even though I'd love to see Richard be humiliated by going to work in his underwear, I decided that it wasn't worth attracting attention so I looked through his clothes to put on a work uniform. I found a pair of boxers and accidently flashed myself when I completely forgot I didn't have my own dick either. It was all wrinkly, but honestly a lot bigger than I thought. No. I was not about to get horny over Richard's dick! I found what he normally wore to work and put the rest on. I found tucking the shirt was more difficult than usual, as I had to pull it over my belly.

I guess I could make this work…for now. I hated to admit it, but Richard wasn't all that bad looking. It was his personality and habits that made him so repulsive, but now that I was in control of him, he didn't look all that bad. Maybe I could even turn things around for now and do something nice for the people I know he hates. I grabbed the car keys on the nearby table, and drove to work.

I walked in the store, put Richard's nametag on, and clocked in. I nearly started walking to the bakery area but stopped myself. I guess I'm really going to have to be a greeter for a day. This feels humiliating. I made my way to the front entrance and just stood there, waiting for customers to enter or exit.

Soon enough customers began arriving and I tried my best to act like Richard, though one customer asked if I was all right because I guess I overdid it. I didn't ask any customers to show their receipts though, because I might as well take advantage of being a greeter. I noticed Domingo at the checkout and when he bagged up his groceries, he approached me first instead of the door. He hastily grabbed his receipt and started showing it to me. I wasn't about to let this happen.

“No no it's ok. You don't have to show me the receipt anymore.”

“No?” He looked shocked.

“Checking receipts is stupid anyway. I don't need to do it anymore.”

“Really? I can go?”

“Yep! Have a good day.” It was unnerving seeing him so scared at the sight of me, but he smiled like normally did as he put the receipt back in the bag and walked out.

As I moved towards the break room to take my break, I noticed someone who looked awfully familiar walk through the door. It was…me! I mean Richard. It must've been; if I was in his body, he must've been in mine. It became more obvious by the way he was walking, taking big steps as if he was used to having his gut swinging around…like mine was now. God I hated this. I had to talk to him to sort things out. He smirked as I approached.

“Hey!”

“Oh it's you. I mean me. I mean,” he paused for a second and rounded his mouth into an even bigger smile, which looked uncanny with my face. “The old me.”

“What do you mean ‘the old you’”?

“Well seeing as I'm much younger now, while you're much older, I think the term is appropriate.”

“Well yeah, but not for long. I'm going to switch us back.”

“Oh no you're not! I may have preferred being white, but I’m enjoying youth again! Oh, and don't worry. I saw that coin thing and that letter this morning, and I made sure it would never see the light of day again. You got that…Richard?” 

He called me that in the same mocking tone that I always use to call him. I can't believe this!

“Y-you can't do this! I had a future!”

“That's my future now old man. You know maybe I could be a model with these looks. Maybe make one of those, what do you kids call it? OnlyFans?”

God no, I'm an artist, not a pornstar. He can't do this!

“The greeter is a real fun job, Richard. Enjoy it. You're hired!”

[howlingmod]

Hello mod, may I request something cutesy for Skateboard x reader?

summary - skateboard x reader, reader is from blackrock and is described as being a little bit messed up from it (not detailed)

misc - hi i seen this request and got so excited i love skateboard ... 1million tripmine attack go

-Skateboard hadn't really been looking to make any new friends when he'd stumbled onto you. It'd been late at night and he was dead tired, having spent the entire day in the blistering heat of day. He was really just looking to go home when he'd seen you.

-It wasn't uncommon to see people lost in Playground, especially people from other regions. It was less common to see someone frantically pacing back and forth with a stuffed full suitcase and what was very obviously a Blackrock-style uniform talking about getting hunted for sport.

-Initially, the uniform had put him on edge. He phights Subspace and Hyperlaser all the time and he's seen plenty of people from there pass through Playground, and it wasn't often they had good intentions. There was something different about you, though, your panic didn't seem manufactured to draw someone in, it felt unnervingly genuine. Blackrock isn't exactly known for letting its residents easily slip out whenever they want. if you really were some kind of runaway, you definitely had reason to be freaking out.

-Against his better judgement, he approached you.

"Hey man, are you ok?" Skate asked cautiously, taking a few steps closer to you. He kept his distance, he wasn't sure what kind of gear you might have and he wasn't looking to phight right now. Your head had whipped towards him the moment he'd stepped into the alley, wide eyes darting over his figure. He certainly didn't look like the type to be affiliated with the faction. Besides, to be entirely honest, an alley was a pretty terrible place to hide. For any Blackrock authority with an itchy trigger finger (most of them, you noted bitterly), it was the perfect place to solve a runaway. "Hello...?" You blinked, remembering he'd asked a question. "O-Oh, um... Yeah I'm- I'm fine," you stammered, hastily smoothing yourself out and ripping your eyes away. Any attempt at looking casual was soaked in anxiety. "Right, Right," he didn't believe you at all, "You mind telling me what's up then?" You kicked at the ground a few times, scuffing up already worn workboots out in an attempt to shake your nerves. You couldn't meet his eyes for more than a glance. "I'd rather not." Skate paused for a few moments. Maybe it's exhaustion talking, but you really didn't seem like much of a threat. If you were trying to bait him into getting close, it seemed counterintuitive to be acting so guarded. This didn't feel like an elaborate scheme, it just felt like a genuine moment of crisis. Before he could say anything, you spoke up again. "Listen I just- Do you need something? I really don't know why you're talking to me." You were struggling to keep your voice firm, but you couldn't afford to let your voice wobble over the edge and into tears. "Hey, just calm down. I wanna help you, ok?" This could have been a stupid move, but he took another few steps closer, one arm holding his board and the other raised in a show of pacifism, "I'm sorry if I was freakin' you out with all the questions. Do you have anywhere to go?" You bit the inside of your cheek, mentally debating if you really wanted to put this onto a stranger. On one hand, it was just humiliating for you. On the other, it was a risk, he might be playing nice now but he could sell you out in a heartbeat. "No." "Alright, well how about you come with me?" He was quick to clarify when you glanced at him, "You can stay with me until you find a place! Or, I could try and find some hotel nearby, I guess ..." He trailed off, talking more to himself than you. Part of you was screaming to run the other way, as far as you knew this guy had you totally figured out and was ready to use the situation to get whatever it was he wanted. He could blackmail you, rat you out, ruin every chance you have at a new life. You can't just pick up and keep running if he tries anything, this guy was clearly from here, far more familiar with the bustling city than you were. Despite all this- "Please."

-It was a pretty long adjustment period. Skate was a little too casual and open for your paranoid mind to comprehend and you were a little too guarded and mysterious for Skate to trust you fully. You were so unfamiliar with Playground's culture, the lively and crowded atmosphere was a stark contrast to the utilitarian lifestyle you were accustomed to. There was little you could do other than try and bully forward.

-It was the little things that made Skate warm up to you. You always insisted it was out of politeness whenever he'd confront you about how nice the place looked or how there was leftovers for him when he got home. You would get wrapped up in something and you would start talking to yourself, walking through all the different steps and alternatives in a long ramble under your breath. Despite the exterior you were putting up, there was clearly some life to you yet.

-Sometimes he would tease you about it, but he was surprisingly strategic. He'd annoy you just enough to get you to glare at him and then back off for a while, returning the favor by bringing home snacks and takeout for the two of you in an effort to draw out more of that humanity. Besides, you could really use the food. The day he noticed most everything you made for yourself was just whatever used the least amount of resources was the same day he shoved most of his portion over to you without a word.

-Neither of you really noticed how you opened up to one another. Slowly you two stopped sitting on opposite sides of the room until you spent nights laying on one another watching bad tv. Admittedly, he might've gotten the first hint at his crush for you the first time you fell asleep on him. Sure, it was just plain cute, but it meant something more knowing it was you, the same person who used to run off to go eat by yourself every night and stuck to the corners of a room.

-He noticed your quirks become more apparent, little references and phrases he'd never heard before suddenly littered your every word. You spoke more openly, though you still had a tendency of not talking unless he said something that absolutely called for it. He didn't mind, he was usually the more chatty one in his friendships anyway. He just liked getting an excuse to tell you about all the phights he's been in and all the (more lighthearted) things his gang was up to. At some points, the lines between fabrication and reality in his stories blurred for whatever reason. He didn't mind that either, so long as you were laughing or drawn in by what he was saying.

-You weren't into the idea of phighting yourself, it was just a little too much for you. Besides, even the idea of seeing Hyperlaser or Subspace again on the battlefield of all places made your stomach churn. Instead, he'd just gotten you into play wrestling with him. You were stronger than he'd been expecting, though he probably should've known you would be considering your background. He didn't have to take it easy on you, only really holding back for the sake of not breaking anything.

-It was cliche, but there was some time where you'd won and managed to shove him down and keep him there and all the admiration he' been building up for you overflowed and left him looking up at you with some dumb grin. You were smiling back, something you'd only recently really started doing again. He liked to think it was because you were comfortable here with him, you would agree.

"Hi." "Hey." He laughed again, a nervous habit you often poked fun at, "You're really pretty, you know that?" You'd burnt up at that, laughing a little yourself as you stared down at him, "Where's this coming from?" "I dunno, just been thinking it." "You're weird." "Do you like me weird?" You snorted, halfheartedly swatting him one more time before pushing yourself back up. "Of course." "That's good, I like you weird too," the moment he'd finished his sentence, you were already pouncing on him again.

[elifinchsart]

Uhhh post game cap in regular clothes?

(Prolly reluctantly trying to separate himself from the uniform a bit since….. *gestures at game* all of that happend, but also not quite knowing where to go from here since *gestures at game* all of this makes me feel like trying to move on from the BBs is probably gonna be hard for him and I feel like the uniform may or may not be a comfort to him in some weird sense… Wish I could explain my reasoning better but then again I don’t even think he could .)

Oh Yeah I absolutely understand what you're getting at here. The uniform IS him in many ways- it represented his place in things both as a follower and a leader. As long as he was wearing it he knew who he was (or what his role was) and so did others. That uniform also represented all his hard work to become Inspekta’s right hand man, so it absolutely was a source of pride as well as comfort. Having the BB's disbanded and losing that position and uniform is going to be very, very hard. For the first time in a very long time he's going to have to think about who he is a person removed from a power structure that gave him purpose. He's been completely unmoored in a way. And that's going be incredibly rough- things are going to feel worse and perhaps get worse for him before he can get better. Even though he's out of a toxic situation and in a far healthier place I think it's going to be something he misses for a while. We know from Yugo's drawings that what he wore before joining the Bizzyboys and wears off the clock are more for function and comfort and that he doesn't take great care of himself or them. And why should he? He only needs to be presentable so that he's representing Inspekta well. If he’s not on the job there’s no point in dressing up. In my opinion, the contrast between how he treats his own clothes vs his uniform is really interesting and important. He wants respect but doesn't respect himself and that reflects in his clothing choices. It's also why he panics so much when his uniform gets colored in paint- suddenly he doesn't fit in and his image doesn't command power. I've drawn him in his tank top/shorts and flannel but let’s talk about what else could be in his wardrobe. After rotting for a bit I think Vibiano and the others will help/push him to get a new wardrobe. I have designed some clothes I can see him picking out. Similar shapes to his uniform, nothing too out there pattern or color-wise that would made him stand out (maybe one day he'll feel bolder)- stuff that looks nice and snappy and classy. Stuff that makes him look like a guy you'd respect- yknow? Something he can wear with pride again.

Anyway those are my thoughts/interpretations! They may be different from yours (general not just you anon) but I definitely think his clothing is important to his character! I have a stupid joke follow up to this too but I'm going to post it separately.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Rengoku taking you on a date to some festival (like the on in my dress up darling) and watching fireworks with you + lots of fluff

Ahh this instantly reminded me of that official art I used in the cover, so cool! Please let me know what you think <3

Kyojuro Rengoku taking you on a date to a light festival

Pairing: Rengoku x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: Even though Kyojuro never saw more than a kind comrade in you, he decided to take you to the light festival he arranges every year for his beloved mother. All it takes is one evening for him to realize that you are way more than just a comrade to him...

Warnings: This is my first ever Rengoku fic so please take your time and leave a like, comment or reblog if you enjoy 🥹 fluffness overload, reader being shy, last part not proofread bc I reeaaaallyyy need to work on my university papers right now, hope you still enjoy!

One last glance in the mirror just to make sure you look alright while your heart beats out of your chest.

Finally. This is the day you’ve been waiting for since weeks. The minute none other than Kyojuro Rengoku asked you to accompany him to the yearly night festival in his hometown, you thought about it each and every day. What are you supposed to wear? Are you skilled enough to do your makeup? What if he doesn’t like you in something apart from your demon slayer uniform? It took ages to decide on a festive yukata you’ll wear, hours to do your hair decently enough. And in the end, you decided to wear no makeup at all.

“(y/n), he is awaiting you at the door”, your beloved mother gently announces into your room.

He’s there. Your fingers run over the soft fabric of your yukata frantically one last time before crossing the room and walking down the hallway.

“Oh... (y/n)”, the man at the door breathes out, eyes widen and mouth hanging open.

Huh, why is he looking at you like that? Is a stain on your yukata that you’ve missed? Is your hair already falling apart? Your mind goes blank, staring at him through doe eyes. What is wrong?

“I’m sorry for staring at you so shamelessly. It’s just…You look strikingly beautiful.”

In an instant your cheeks heat up, skin turning dark red without mercy. Did he just call you beautiful?

“Oh…Thank you so much, Rengoku-san. I really don’t deserve your praise”, you reply, bowing down in gratitude.

In the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of his festive black yukata and white cape. How is a single man able to look so elegant and breath-taking? How is it possible that he invited you to this festival right by his flamboyant side?

“May I ask you to call me Kyojuro, please? No need for formalities.”

Your heart skips a beat. Are you dreaming? This is too good to be true. Over the last few months, you worked close to him, always admiring him from afar. Officially, he was never more than a hashira, the ideal you grieved for. But when you got to know him better, when you were able to talk about anything but the demon slayer corps…There was no way out of hopelessly falling for him.

He stretches his hand out, smiling at you so widely that you forget how to breathe to a minute. Why…

Does he want you to take his hand?

“Go on, dear. Have a nice evening and stay safe.”

With a gentle push, your mother draws you closer to him, making you grab his warm hand out of instinct. Despite you went on multiple missions with him, you were never this close to him, never meeting each other in privacy. But this…

This feels like a date.

“Are you alright, (y/n)? I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

You hold onto his arm tightly, gazing at him through widen eyes. Oh no, you’re messing it up with being so nervous. Should you tell him the truth? Or just pretend there’s nothing wrong?

“Can I be honest with you?”, you mutter, making him tilt his head in a way that makes you see stars.

“Of course, you always can!”, he shouts back in the matter of seconds.

“You know…This is the first time a man ever took me out…”, you stutter, gaze fixated on the grass underneath your feet.

His eyes dart towards your face, looking for a sign of humour in your bright orbs. But by the way you blush so deeply and how you fumble his sleeve he can tell you are serious about your words. A gorgeous woman like you was never asked out? This is impossible, this is absolutely unacceptable. He clenches his hands into fists.

Kyojuro Rengoku will make sure to make you feel special throughout the entirety of this day.

“Then I am beyond honoured to be the first one”, he replies along with a bright smile that lights up his entire face.

You smile at him widely, that cute little blush still tinting your cheeks in the most admirable way Kyojuro has ever witnessed. He never thought about asking a woman out, let alone another member of the demon slayer corps. For all these months, you were nothing but comrades, a pair that worked really well together.

Until it became more for him.

Until he couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you left long ago. Until he started to ponder about your breath-taking smile and soft hair instead of your fighting skills. Until he saw more in you than just a demon slayer.

No, you are a woman. And what a gorgeous one. Maybe Uzui was right, after all.

“So you and (y/n), huh?”

“What are you talking about, Uzui?”

“Come on man, I see the way you look at her. And I get it, she is really stunning and pretty smart on top. She’d be a great catch for you, especially for the first one.”

“The first?”, Kyojuro repeated in shock, widen eyes staring at you shamelessly.

He never planed on having a single wife in the first place. Why would Uzui suggest something so ridiculous? You are nothing but a comrade to him with your shiny eyes, strong body, and the delicate way your body moves in the sunset. And oh, your character made of pure gold, how you treat others with infinite kindness. So delicate, so lovely…

“Oh my, look at all those delicious sweets”, you cry out in excitement, arm wrapping itself around Kyojuro’s tighter.

“You never told me that you like sweets”, he replies gently.

“Would you…Would you mind getting something to eat with me? I really love sweets and here are so much of them to try.”

The way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear almost drives the flame hashira himself insane, eyes glued to your delicate frame in nothing but admiration. How did he never really notice how unmistakably lovely you are?

“Not at all, let’s get you something to eat!”

Proudly, he watches how you slowly but surely get comfortable around him, telling him everything he needs to know about your favourite sweets while your eyes sparkle in sheer excitement.

“I love chocolate as well, especially the darkest one!”

“I heard that far away, someone invented a white chocolate. White! Can you believe it? How is it even possible to make something like that? I wonder what it tastes like.”

“Someday, I will take you to find out yourself”, Kyojuro suddenly blurts out.

Your eyes dart towards him, hands completely frozen in place. Calm down, don’t freak out, tame your excitement.

“Would you really do that, Kyojuro?”

“If it makes you happy, I very gladly will!”

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Maybe your endorphins are all over the place because of all the sweet you’ve ate, maybe it is the sake that was in the pralines from earlier, but you can’t contain yourself. With a swift motion, you put the last piece of chocolate in your mouth before wrapping your arms around none other than Kyojuro Rengoku.

Kyojuro Rengoku, the man you’ve been eyeing since joining the demon slayer corps. Kyojuro Rengoku, who seemed to never see more in you than a simple friend.

Kyojuro Rengoku, who instantly wraps his strong arms around you as well.

He didn’t expect you this close to him except for training. But oh does it feel good. How did he never notice how intoxicating good you smell and how warm your body feels? How did he never notice how much smaller your hands are compared to his? And the softness of your perfectly made hair. He can’t help but wonder how long it took you to make them look this way?

You are so beautiful.

“Thank you for taking me here. I never thought you…You would do something like that with me.”

Your hot breath tickles against his neck and makes shivers run down his spine.

“Of course! After all, I really enjoy your company!”

Discretely, you return to your own seat, the slight tint of red displaying your embarrassment. Did you really just hug him? Hopefully he doesn’t think you’re a freak. Or even worse: what if he doesn’t want to work with you anymore? You’d rather adore him in the dark than not seeing him at all.

“Excuse my outbreak. I guess I got a little carried away. Oh, where are all the people going?”

Your eyes follow the multiple people around you who seem to meet up on the other end of the well-decorated village. By now, it’s already getting dark, the sun is almost completely set.

“Didn’t you know! In just a few moments, the traditional firework will start! Follow me!”

He grabs your hand. Kyojuro’s warm hand wraps itself around yours while he leads you to the crowd, an excited grin plastered on his face.

This is what he waited for, finally he is able to show you the firework. Since you’ve mentioned in a training session that you never saw a firework before, he knew he had to change it.

“Here you’ll be able to see everything.”

Kyojuro”, you breathe out, eyes roaming around the lovely area.

Despite the fact that there is a crowd of people around you, you’re standing next to him in a small pavilion, decorated all over with the most delicate flowers.

“Many of the buildings around us are owned by my family, like the pavilion we are standing in at the moment. After my mother died, I arranged this festival in her honor. She would have loved to make other humans happy by the sight of fireworks.”

Your breath hitches, heart almost overflowing with emotions. Even though he smiles at you softly, you can tell by the pained gleam in his otherwise bright orbs how much he misses his mother especially today.

“I will enjoy every second of it just like she does. I’m sure she is proud of the man you have become, Kyojuro.”

You place your hand on his, fingers intertwining as you lean your body over the railing.

“I bet she watches over you right now from afar.”

“I hope she does”, Kyojuro replies unusual calm.

Then it begins. Your eyes dart towards the sky and the play of colours that lays itself out over your head. So many colours that sparkle like stars, the burnt smell in the air. You don’t know how you imagined a firework to be, but definitely not this exciting.

But unlike you, Kyojuro isn’t able to look at the sky. No, all that he’s able to see is you and how the fireworks reflect in your widen eyes.

This. This must be what dreams are made of, the reason why Uzui is married to three women. Just the way you carry yourself is enough to drive him insane, to make his heart jump out of his chest. And especially now, he just isn’t able to resist any longer.

Before he decides against it, he wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you close with one arm resting around your waist and the other on your shoulder.

“The fireworks will never shine as bright as your eyes, (y/n).”

“K-kyojuro…”

“I love you with all my heart. All this time I thought it is nothing more than sympathy, that I see nothing more than a comrade in you. But you in that delightful kimono, your eyes shining like the stars above…It’s love, (y/n). I love you.”

Suddenly the fireworks above are out of your sight, eyes locked with Kyojuro and his slightly redden cheeks. This can’t be true, right? You dreamt countless night of him, imagined what it would feel like to lay in his arms like you do right now. Is a man like him really able to love a women like you, are you worth his time?

“I’d love to kiss you right now.”

You hold your breath, head nodding ever so slightly when his face draws closer and closer until…

Fireworks around you explode in a grand finale when he presses his lips against yours softer than you ever imagined. He feels as warm and comforting as you expected, his grasp keeping you from sinking down to the ground.

“I could watch you for a lifetime, (y/n)”, he hushes against your lips.

“You…you are way better than a firework”, you breathe out.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez

[april-first]

Guide to the Bravern Flower Shop Verse

Posting this for archiving purposes and for future/new fans who won't experience any of this live (or maybe ever, if Twitter breaks) just encounter it as older, out of context fanart on Pixiv or social media.

So. If you’ve ever looked up Japanese Bravern fanart (or fanfic) on either Pixiv or Twitter you must have stumbled upon a certain flowershop AU. It’s official (made and named by the staff, got referred to as such in the 2nd talkshow apparently) and it’s called 花屋バース. Details with links under the cut!

The contributors

Kamokamen, original/main character designer (Twitter @ sangsilnoh)

Oobari Masami, director (Twitter @ G1_BARI)

Ura Ryuuta, chief animation director (Twitter @ matatabeat)

The origins

"happy new episode release" bonus arts by the main character designer

and their two Yotsuba&! joke tweets:

Isami works at a flower shop called Brave Flower

Smith is the single father of the "mysterious girl" Lulu who is in kindergarten

This spiraled into a whole AU that has Actual Lore because the staff kept adding to it.

My main sources were 2 different tweet compilations made by Japanese fans and the very broken Twitter search. I got into the fandom when Episode 9 aired (before that I was just watching the show weekly and nothing else) so backsourcing all of this was not easy, and unfortunately I can’t guarantee this post has every relevant tweet. For example I found nothing about Smith’s job. It might exist, it might not, who knows. But the staff was very clear that they just wanted everyone to have fun coming up with ideas when they were tweeting about Bravern-the-character.

Isami & Bravern

- Isami and Bravern drive a motorcycle with a sidecar (ART!) called Brave Thunder

- according to the director Bravern wears a helmet

- Bravern exists in that miniature form which was designed by the director, completely unexplained (first appearance of "easy-to-draw Bravern-kun" | official plushie version which he brought to the 3rd talkshow | non-flowershop AU maid uniform update! also designed by him | "bunny day" update)

(T/N: this is not actual canon, but in the Animedia (May issue) interview’s Q&A section the director said Isami has the impression of someone who has a much older brother who passed away when he was young. JP fandom said nope this is the happy AU so he’s alive)

Smith & Lulu

- Smith and Lulu drive a "granny bike" called Spar Kaiser

- Lulu's seat is a child bike seat dubbed "co-pilot seat"

(T/N: answering a fan’s question, the character designer who designed Smith’s weird shirts once tweeted he’s probably using a translator app to scan the text on them.)

Other characters

- as far as I know there’s no "official" flowershop AU version of Superbia

- some time ago the director made a miniature design for him as well, but people usually draw Superbia in a humanoid form in this AU which was designed by the character designer

(T/N: not flowershop AU related, but Superbia speaks in Hiroshima dialect.)

- Miyu has a moped (a modified old Honda Super Cub) and she rides around town with Hibiki to get McDonald’s

(T/N: also not flowershop AU related, but Hibiki considers Isami a younger brother, according to the 3rd talkshow reports.)

- Satake was Isami's homeroom teacher and he was the one who taught him how to properly ride a motorcycle

- it was due to Satake’s influence that Isami chose an American-style Japanese bike which he bought secondhand for cheap for the fun of repairing and customizing it

(T/N: the tweet linked above is from March, but at the 3rd staff talkshow we learned that Satake’s bike in canon is a Honda CBR250RR. At the 2nd talkshow the staff said he gives off the impression of being a good cook, and the director shared he must be single because of the bike & red jacket combo.)

ADD ALT TEXT if you share this on other sites as screenshots. I genuinely can't be assed to care about credit, but I care a lot about accessibility.

I’m collecting the interviews and talkshow fan reports, and I'm also reading Lulu’s spinoff novel so eventually I’ll post summaries of those. (Unfortunately I don’t have time to do more than summaries.) In the meantime you guys could MTL this collab café report/article if you're interested! (I checked googletranslate and it’s readable)