#i will be thinking about this for the rest of the day and perhaps week thank you guerilla 🙏

[kiaramemes09]

Thinking about the friends and families of these dead students.

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF TETRO DANGANRONPA PINK BELOW

I sincerely apologize in advance.

Isono is never going to be able to repair her strained relationship with her sister. Her mother is running around, panicking for her youngest child. Her millions of fans, people she made smile, perhaps more people like Wada who were uplifted by her streams, they’re left to wonder where on earth she is. Is she okay? Is she taking a break? Is she quitting? Why without warning? Is she safe?

Sasaki’s parents cherish her. It’s unimaginable the guilt her parents must feel for failing to protect her horrific things she was going through thanks to her teacher, from having her innocence ruined. And now, she’s gone. Their only child, who they wanted nothing more than to be happy, is gone without a trace.

All the friends Chiba made along the way in her career, all wondering where that girl, the sweetest of young ladies went. Her TV family, her TV mom, TV dad, and TV big brothers, her cosmologist, she really wanted to see them again. Chances are, so do they.

Harada’s parents love him and are naturally searching for their child. His girlfriend, a girl he might’ve spent the rest of his life with, from their high school years to old age, was stated to might end up going with him. She can’t even remember him by the tiger cub he cared for.

Kamimura’s aunt had to of reported him missing a little while ago, when his rent went unpaid. Maybe she’s wondering if she failed him. Did she fail her sister’s beloved child, and is why he’s gone? He’s never going to see her again, or tell her how much he missed her when he was stuck in there.

Tsuno’s parents must be searching high and low, desperately trying to find their sweet baby. Knocking on doors, begging someone, anyone, to give them information. Her little brothers, nine year olds, probably can’t even begin to comprehend why their big sister isn’t home.

Okazaki’s former roommates have no idea that anything’s even wrong. She must’ve gone off on an adventure again. Maybe she’ll drive in with another stolen van. Maybe she won’t be calling herself Okazaki Hanano and they’ll be calling by yet another one of her aliases when she crashes on one of their couches.

Watari’s little siblings, they relied on her. She was forced to parent them, to take care of them. She held a more motherly role in their lives than their own mother, who’s probably scrambling now that her daughter isn’t thanklessly doing her job. That baby on the way, that baby will never know her. That baby will never be able to recall the wildfire girl that will be so dearly missed.

Hama’s mom and little sister, they were nothing short of close with him. They did need him. They needed their kind boy there with them. They pray day and night that their Ran will come home, that he’ll be back unhurt and God will comfort him through whatever is separating them right now. The old ladies in the neighborhood adored him, that kind, helpful young man. He should be home right now.

Hayashi’s parents will never. ever. give up on their daughter. Their crazy stubborn daughter will be found, whether it be in a few more days, weeks, a year, or several, she’ll return. Surely. They’ll find her, maybe more scarred than before, but they’ll be there for her, ready to hold her in their warm embrace. If there is even a chance what they find won’t be a body, they will hold onto it and believe that as the case regardless of the odds. She’s still out there. She has to be.

Hasegawa’s got a family at home, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Their family broke apart, but Hasegawa was in an at least civil relationship with them all. His mother loved and supported her son to bits. His sister, his best friend, must’ve started digging the moment he disappeared. His dad and dad’s girlfriend must be worried sick. They lost little Reina eleven years before, in a regrettable accident that should’ve been avoided. The Hasegawas can’t be losing another precious child, can they? They can’t. They just…can’t.

It’s not fair.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 29

Fic masterlist

Guys it's 3am five hours past my bedtime I'll do the header tomorrow lol

HAPPY FAKE BIRTHDAY @sirius-blacks-official-girl who 100% came up with a fake one to milk this chapter out of me.

JOKING love you Flora this chapter was so overdue I'm actually a little embarassed. But I DID write most of it on my notes app in ubers and in between classes because my studies are killing me so..

Warnings: mentions of inflation

Words: 7k

“The kids did say you have a bug up your ass today,” Fenrys said from his doorstep, somewhere between frowning and laughing at Rowan’s frazzled look. 

Perhaps he did. He did snap at the recruits more often today, and it was naive of him to think people wouldn’t notice or comment. Thankfully they had a gap in their schedule this month, hence why he and Fenrys were at Rowan’s and Aelin’s place mid-afternoon on a work day.

Rowan was well aware that soon Maisie and Fleetfoot would arrive like a tornado—one from preschool and the other from daycare—and Aelin… he didn’t even know. What he did know is that she’ll be more willing to talk about whatever she’s going through if Rowan isn’t looking like a truck just ran over him—his current state. 

His friend eyed him warily and stepped in. As annoying as Fenrys could be when he assumed his life-of-the-party persona, it didn’t get on Rowan’s nerves like when the man was being perceptive. 

He didn’t feel like talking yet and, at that moment, it was hard to tell something more unsettling than when his lifelong friend scanned his soul with bottomless onyx eyes. 

“How 's Aelin?”

Rowan didn’t answer. He didn’t know it himself.

Tired.

Those are the only five letters he gets to hear after asking her the same question.

His Fireheart seemed so tired these days, it was hard to discard a depressive episode. He even asked her if she was pregnant when Lorcan joked about it last week, but she said it was unlikely, and Rowan was getting ahead of himself.

He wouldn’t dare hope. It was too soon, and Maisie was a handful already. As much as he wanted more children, they had more things to do before that—actually, just one specific thing that required something shiny to bribe her with.

If Aelin was pregnant, she’d tell him. She told him without any delay and in worse circumstances last time, so he knew she would. What unsettled him was her history of not telling him when she was struggling.

Isn’t this why they parted ways, after all? 

Her being too closed off while he was too dumb to pull his head out of his ass and see her? Well, Aelin’s still clinically depressed, and Rowan’s still an idiot—they just have it more under control now.

Instead of explaining his inner turmoil, he said, “Your old room is hers now. You’re getting your shit out of there while I remodel it.” 

This being the reason why Fenrys was summoned here in the first place. Rowan needed more room for Aelin, and his ex-roommate’s was five years too late to get the rest of his things.

Fenrys mock-flinched, his hand on his chest in a wounded gesture. 

Rowan hardened his expression to get the message across. He wasn’t kidding. For the past years, he’d been asking Fenrys to finish moving out and change his address everywhere that mattered—not only his delivery app.

“I live here with my daughter, and now I’m making room for my…” Girlfriend? The word didn’t feel like enough. “Life partner. I don’t have room for your birth certificate anymore, neither for those old, hideous pants you swear will be trendy again.”

Fenrys squinted at Rowan, common sense fighting the man’s stubbornness until he said, “Fair enough.”

His former roommate whistled when he saw Rowan’s work. “I don’t remember this room being quite this nice, Rowie.”

He shrugged. “That’s just me stress-building.”

Rowan has been not-so-secretly working on a room for Aelin ever since she started showing signs of depression again. He’s keeping it locked so as to not spoil the surprise—she hasn’t commented on it, so neither did he.

It was the very least he could do. They’ve had the conversation where she asked him to take their relationship slow millions of times, and as much as Rowan respected her decision, he didn’t work hard enough to respect this boundary of hers, even if he did know that routine changes can trigger a depressive episode. 

Moving in together after barely four months. Who does that?

Rowan used to feel like everything would be fixed if he managed to rekindle his romantic relationship with Aelin. It’s a bitter realization that they’re still the same flawed people that tore each other apart.

He was supposed to be working through and letting go of his guilt, but how could Rowan do that if his failings kept creeping back into the present like this?

But he had furniture to assemble, and that’s what he wanted to focus on for now—at least until he and Aelin could find some time to talk. 

Fenrys’ whistle snapped him back into reality. 

“A bookcase, huh?”

“Yep.”

His friend smirked. “Because she made you?”

“No, because she’ll like it, and now I’m making you help me with it.“

Fenrys cackled. “I was called to retrieve my things, now I’m helping with the room too?”

Rowan meant business when he texted his friend, but now he was glad Fenrys was here.

“How long will it take to empty half a closet into your car?” Rowan taunted with a raised brow. 

A playful sigh while the man unlocked his phone. “I guess Dorian can walk Calvin and Klein alone.”

~~

All of Rowan’s problems evaporated with Aelin’s cheek pressed against his shoulder blades, her arms wrapping his torso from behind while he mixed what was about to become some veggie-loaded chicken nuggets for dinner.

His girls weren’t good at eating their vegetables, but that just meant he needed to be creative at hiding them in the dishes—a practice he mastered a while ago, when Maisie was a toddler.

Aelin leaned on the kitchen island and looked over at where Maisie hung out with Fleetfoot, making a mess under the kitchen table because both parents were too tired to argue. 

“Should we have that talk now?” She asked, dreading to leave their frail happy bubble.

“I think we’ve delayed it enough.”

Aelin nodded. “Should I start, or…?”

“Go ahead.”

She detangled herself from him and said to Maisie, “Honey, can you come here for a sec?”

“I can’t! I’m busy playing,” the little girl said without taking her attention off Fleetfoot.

“Maisie,” Rowan dragged out her name in a stern tone, his patience thin with everything going on these days. “Your mother gave you an order.”

His daughter’s spine straightened. Sensing they meant business, she crawled from under the table and approached them with her arms crossed, not quite looking them in the eye.

Rowan had no idea where Maisie learned that grumpiness from. Aelin kissed the top of her head to lighten the mood, a silent sign of appreciation for the reluctant compliance.

She asked, “How’s that teeth looking, hun?”

Maisie was about to lose her first baby tooth, and it’s been quite the event at their home. Aelin was weirdly excited about it, and he let her take the lead in this. 

Rowan had barely gotten over her first baby tooth growing—his throat swelled every time he thought too hard about the fact that enough time had passed for her to lose it.

The little girl opened her mouth wide and aaahed obediently.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pull it out?” Aelin asked while gently wiggling the tooth to inspect it, her body vibrating with the need to yank that tooth off Maisie’s head.

The tooth was—quite literally—hanging by a thread, but Maisie didn’t want to pull it out yet. While parenting sometimes meant ordering, they did their best to honor her consent regarding her own body. Maisie didn’t have the authority to decide when she could brush her teeth, but she’d decide when to yank them off.

On the other hand, there was Aelin. A little butcher lived inside his Fireheart—one that cuts people open for a living—and she was itching to rip that tooth off. If Rowan had any to spare, he’d let her take it off just to see that special glimmer her eyes get when she’s thrilled.

At her mother’s suggestion, Maisie took a step back and frantically shook her head, eyes wide and mouth closed.

“Today at school Bree said she ripped it out too soon because she wanted the money, and it hurt a lot and she only got the money three—” Maisie held up three fingers as close to their faces as possible for emphasis. “days later because the tooth fairy got mad at her for it.”

Aelin’s lips thinned. Rowan couldn’t tell if Sellene was a genius, or if he wanted to throttle her for being behind the reason Maisie was scared to pull out her tooth.

He crouched to reach his daughter’s eye level and explained that her tooth was loose enough, so she wouldn’t be pulling it just for the money. “I’m sure the tooth fairy will understand. I used to yank out my own teeth when I was your age and she never delayed my pay.”

Aelin enthusiastically endorsed everything he said.

“The rules aren’t the same anymore, Daddy.” Maisie frowned, as serious as she could be. “You were a kid, like, at least a hundred years ago. The Tooth Fairy probably had to ride a dinosaur to your house.”

He blinked. Did his five-year-old just call him old? Aelin’s cackle in the background confirmed it. 

Mid-thirties wasn’t that old, right?

Rowan went back to making dinner before it got too late, and the girls decided to help him to roll the mixture into a ball and flatten it into a nugget shape.

Aelin continued, “I can write her an email clarifying the situation, how does that sound?”

Maisie took a moment to think, rolling the soon-to-be nugget from hand to hand and nodded. “Can you ask her how much I’ll get? Because she’s not paying the same to my friends at school.”

“The amount she gives you depends on how well you take care of your teeth for her,” Aelin said with a pointed look, the implication about the fact that Maisie doesn’t like to brush her teeth hanging in the air. His Fireheart was a genius.

“How do you know this?” Maisie squinted her eyes at her mom.

“I’m a mom. I know things you don’t.” Aelin nonchalantly shaped the nugget, pretending she wasn’t aware she just posed herself as a mysterious source of wisdom in all things childhood folklore.

“Okay,” Maisie dragged out the word while giving her mom a skeptical look. “Do you know how much she’ll give me?”

“It slipped my mind.” Aelin asked Rowan, “Do you remember it?”

“Huh,” he mused while putting the nuggets into the air fryer. “I’m pretty sure it was $1.”

“$1!? But… but in-flay-shun!” Maisie exclaimed, carefully wording the next word as she struggled to pronounce it.

Inflation coming out the mouth of a 5-year-old. What the hell. 

Aelin tried and failed to muffle her laugh into her hand, and Rowan’s eyes bugged out of his skull.

“How on earth do you know what that is?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Uncle Fen said the Tooth Fairy would give me more money if I said this word,” the little girl said sheepishly.

Of course. Fenrys didn’t bother staying for dinner, but he made sure to bring trouble regardless. 

“You wanna add inflation? Let’s calculate this like adults, then. I’m gonna need a piece of paper for this.”

Maisie ran to fulfill her dad’s request, her little body bouncing with excitement when she came back… with her pink dinosaur-themed magnetic doodle board.

That’d do, he supposed.

“Now, the last time I got a raise because of it—“ not that Maisie would know what inflation is and why it made her parents earn a raise, “I got a 9% adjustment, but I’ll add 10% to yours.”

Wide-eyed, Maisie squealed. “I’ll get $11?”

Under his dead body. Sellene laid a good foundation to stop Maisie and Bree from starting a self-mutilation business because of Tooth Fairy, but he didn’t trust his daughter enough to give her this much. When Maisie has money, she’s no better than Scrooge McDuck.

“No, for you it means more 10 cents. You’ll get $1,1.”

The little girl pouted. “Uncle Fen made it sound nicer.”

“Sorry, hun.” Rowan gave her a sympathetic look. “And you know what other thing adults have in their salaries?”

“What?” Maisie asked, sat on the edge of her stool, hands sprawled on the kitchen island with the hopes to cash in more money.

“Taxes.”

“You wouldn’t,” Aelin cut in, her tone low and disbelieving.

“She wants it the adult way.”

“Rowan Whitethorn, you are not taxing Maisie’s tooth money!”

“Would you listen to me before we—” a pause because his big mouth almost ruined Maisie’s childhood, “before we email Tooth Fairy with the final tooth cash decision.”

With a pinch to her nose, she relented, “Go on, then.”

He continued to Maisie, “I pay about 30% in taxes, but I’ll make yours 20% because your income is lower.”

The little girl frowned, sensing she wasn’t gonna like what was coming next—no tax-paying citizen did.

“And according to my calculations, your after-tax tooth income would be about… 88 cents.”

“WHAT?” Maisie shouted, grabbing the doodle board to see it for herself—not that she’d understand the rates and percentages, but it was indeed pretty infuriating stuff.

“So…” Rowan continued, “You can have the adult way with inflation, or you can take the $1 the Tooth Fairy is offering and let your parents take you out for ice cream when the tooth falls.” A brow raise. “What do you want?”

“The adult way sucks. This is why you have grey hair.”

“Maisie,” Aelin reproached, “that’s not nice.”

The timer beeped, telling him it was time to turn the nuggets in the air fryer. “Let’s go set the table, Mais,” Aelin said while he finished cooking.

The gentle rain outside chilled the mid-spring evening, something about the sound of the water falling against the large glass window adding a cozy factor to their dinner night. 

They would’ve started eating sooner if Maisie hadn’t decided she’d only eat if her plate was the same color as Fleetfoot’s bowl, so it was another five to ten minutes until they found the girl’s lilac plate and the four of them were all set.

Which didn’t make much of a difference for Aelin, since she was practically pushing her food around.

Rowan tapped her foot with his under the table. “You good?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not great.” A shrug. “Just a bit bloated. The nuggets are great, though.” Aelin said with a weak smile she put on to soothe his worries. His Fireheart knew him well, but he knew her just as well.

“I’m sorry, Mama. Maybe your tummy needs a nap.”

Rowan relaxed his shoulders, melting. Maisie was such a thoughtful little—

“Are you gonna eat all your nuggets?” she asked, eyeing her mother’s plate as if she could eat the whole table on her own. 

Well, she can be exclusively a thoughtful little girl. Right now, she was a thoughtful little girl with ulterior motives.

Aelin’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “You do know there’s more in the tray, right?”

“I’m saving them for school tomorrow. Can I eat yours or not?”

Rowan frowned. “Maisie, there’s no need to ration food. We have a full fridge.”

“A full fridge of fruit! Not nuggets,” she said as Aelin gave her two from her plate. The little girl grinned, kicking her feet under the table before she chomped down—

Maisie froze mid-bite, green eyes nearly bulging out of her skull as she sent them a panicked look.

“What happened?”

She grabbed a napkin—thank the gods—and slowly spat the contents of her mouth on it. 

“The nugget yanked my wiggly tooth.”

“That’s…” Rowan grabbed the napkin, smiling at the gross mixture of saliva and chewed food that nestled Maisie’s tiny tooth and its even smaller bloody root. “That’s disgusting, actually. Are you okay?”

She nodded, still looking shocked. “I thought it’d hurt more, but it was just a little pop and it was gone.”

“Good. That’s—“

He looked over at Aelin and saw her wipe off a tear. She cupped both hands and asked, “Can I see?”

Rowan handed over Maisie’s soggy napkin, and Aelin’s laugh trembled with emotion. “So gross.” She rounded the table and hugged her very confused kid, who was still sitting.

“I’m so proud of you, Maisy Daisy.”

“Mom, you’re being weird.” A pause. “Are you sad you didn’t yank it?”

“Nope, not sad at all.” Aelin wiped another tear off with her thumb and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I’m just a little emotional today. Let me be.”

Aelin wasn’t a crier, but Rowan wasn’t either, and he did unexpectedly tear up on Maisie’s first day of school, leaving his estranged co-parent to awkwardly comfort him outside the classroom. When it came to parenting, he stopped judging a few tears a long time ago.

“Let’s get this ready for Tooth Fairy, shall we?”

Aelin opened an upper cabinet, then another box that was inside it, and retrieved delicate-looking pliers.

“Baby, I didn’t know you were still keeping surgery… things around the house.” He hinted at their old disagreement, not wanting to fight with her in front of Maisie. 

Aelin has a rather unorthodox way to prepare food—one of the reasons why he took over kitchen duties. She might not know how to season and fry the food well, but that woman can cut and debone meat like a pro. Rowan still wasn’t comfortable about having tools designed to cut flesh and bone anywhere near their very mischievous five-year-old—no matter how well Aelin hid them. 

The wave of uneasiness that haunted him today returned—the reminder of how good she is at keeping things hidden when she wants to.

“S’just a Kern Forceps, babe,” she replied with a grin, sprawling her hand over the kitchen island and stabbing it with the instrument, then made a point to show off her unharmed hand to him.

Fine, but this isn’t over, was the message he attempted to send by squinting his eyes at her.

~~

Hours later, he completely forgot to bring it up.

Fleetfoot’s paws against the hall’s wooden floor made Rowan jump, hyper aware of any sounds that came from outside their suite bathroom, where Rowan and Aelin lurked inside, sat on the floor.

Rationally, he knew that the broom that leaned against the outer side of Maisie’s bedroom door—a noise trap—would alert them if she woke up. Still, every noise put him on high alert because of their current, deeply covert activity.

They’d just brushed the two coins with a mixture of detergent and vinegar and rinsed it, now it just needed a bit of polishing and a coat of transparent glitter nail polish to make it look like an authentic Tooth Fairy token.

“Do you think Tooth Fairy would use chunky glitter in her coins? Or you think she’s a subtle-sparkle kind of girl?’ 

He narrowed his eyes at Aelin. “Explain.”

She sighed with such tiredness as if what she’d said was obvious and painted a  sample of each nail polish over a sheet of paper towel. “Our options are: transparent with tiny pink glitter or transparent with silver holographic flakes of glitter.”

“I see…” Rowan hummed thoughtfully, even though he did not see. “Let’s go with… pink.”

When it came to Maisie, pink was always a safe choice–and, as a girl dad, Rowan relied on safe choices.

“I don’t know… I’m just not feeling it with this tiny pink glitter.”

He wondered why she’d even asked. “Of course, I mean…” Rowan took back the sample as if squinting at it would give him any answers. “Well, technically the silvery one has the smaller grooves because the structure allows light to diffract and interfere better. Maybe you think this prismatic iridescence looks more fairytale-ish for the coin?”

Looking up, he faced a heavy-lidded Aelin. She licked her lips. “You know, it’s kinda hot when you remember you have a college degree.”

He grinned and gripped her chin. “I’ll save the dirty talk for later.” He wiggled his brows. “Maybe not.” A gentle, playful kiss. “Maybe you just can’t help yourself around my expertise in optical phys–”

“Alright!” She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck despite the rude interruption, the softness of her lips spurring his own into action. Four months, and it still struck him stupid every time Rowan took in the fact that he got to old Aelin like this, and the contradiction wasn’t lost in him–how he hadn’t gotten used to being with Aelin, yet she felt like home in such a way that made him feel like both their souls were intrinsically intertwined.

Rowan broke the kiss and bit her lower lip. In retaliation, she nipped the tip of his nose and left a feather-light kiss on his lips. Another. And another. Ever so playful, Aelin left a string of quick pecks that left him chuckling between them, but when she moved to kiss his cheek, he held her face and took hold of the situation.

“I love you.” He was the one to initiate the kiss this time. “I love you so much.”

“Love you.” She held his wrists that cradled her cheeks. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

When he registered the serious tone in Aelin’s voice, that dark cloud that loomed in his afternoon crept back in.

Rowan’s shoulders slumped, dreading the conversation before them. “I know.”

She reared back. “You know?”

“It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“It wasn’t obvious to me.” A dark chuckle. “I guess I miss the signs every time, huh?”

Guilt clogged his throat like a rough rock. He looked away and busied his hands with the next task of polishing those two coins, but it didn’t stray his mind from the issue at hand. Aelin had a chronic condition and, as much as she tried to shield her family from it, it was his job to look after her—one he was failing terribly at, despite his efforts.

“Gods!” Aelin got up and left the bathroom, fanning the air in front of her while she ran towards the suite’s open window. Rowan went after her.

His hands were all over her, checking if she was alright. “What happened?”

“Sorry, baby.” She said between slow breaths, a hand on her stomach to steady herself. “I didn’t know that polish would smell so bad.”

“It’s okay. I can do it somewhere else. Or we can not do it. Why would Tooth Fairy’s coins look so shiny with all the traveling she does, anyway?” He kissed her forehead. “This is a symptom too?”

Aelin’s been struggling with nausea as a withdrawal symptom after switching from her previous antidepressant to a new one, and things were looking pretty bad. Maybe strong scents triggered it? 

She nodded. “It is.”

Rowan took a deep, pained breath. “I can’t help but think that the reason behind all this is my fault.”

A snort. “It’s definitely your fault.”

He grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I…” Rowan crossed his arms and looked out the window while he said, “I made something to cheer you up. It won’t make that much of a difference in the big picture, but I hope you’ll… you know… cheer up.”

“Okay.” She ran a hand from his shoulder down his arm, until their fingers were intertwined. “Show me.”

He grabbed the key and led her out of the room into the one they shared a wall with, Fenrys’ old bedroom.

“You made a renovation? Is this why you kept this door locked?” Aelin said, suspicion coating her tone as she studied him with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s not ready yet,” Rowan defended his work before she even saw it, anticipating a poor reaction.

“It’s too soon to even start thinking of a new room, Buzzard.”

She hadn’t even finished moving in, but doing it felt right. He said so to her.

“And before I even told you anything. You were really sure of your… potency, weren’t you?”

“It’s kind of my job to read the signs, isn’t it?” Rowan said as he opened the door and turned the lights on.

Rowan would love to brag and say that he did a full renovation, but it’d be a lie. He’d just emptied most of it out and filled it with things Aelin would appreciate—not that figuring that out was a hard task. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase that took over an entire wall became mandatory ever since Maisie got the idea that a couple of walls at her mother’s house were made of books instead of bricks. Another wall just for books, but this one got interrupted by the window, which he took advantage of to get a dark blue couch and make it a ‘reading nook’, as some folks on the internet call it. Apart from that, he just got a new desk—that matches the bookcases, since Aelin cares about this stuff—and fully emptied out Fenrys’ closet, since Rowan would have to own a total of half a shirt to make the one in the master room fit all of her stuff, from several work uniforms to the cocktail attire she wears once in a blue moon.

Rowan was pointedly not looking at Aelin, and taking a second look at his work could only distract him so much from the fact that she was awfully quiet. Shit. Did he not get enough bookcases? Rowan was afraid that might happen.

When he dared take a look, her expression put him off. Aelin’s eyes looked unusually shiny, and her chin wobbled in a way that sent a jolt of fear through him.

“I got the wrong shade of wood, didn’t I?”

“No! Baby, I love it.” Her chin wobbled. “I love it so much. Everything, really. It’s just…” she quickly dabbed at her eyes with her fingers and cleared her throat. “Sorry, hormones.”

Aelin finally looked him in the eye and said, “I just had other plans for this room.”

“Like what?”

She stared at him like he was the one being unreasonable. “Like a nursery, Rowan.”

In a way, she was right. Eventually, when the time was right, they’d need a nursery. But right now, they had an empty room and a lot of books in need of one. 

“I know.” Rowan squeezed her hand, a flicker of excitement running through him at the mention of his future with Aelin. “But we have time before that.”

“Does less than seven months feel like a long time to you?”

Rowan felt his brows creasing. Less than seven—

His eyes widened.

The speed in which he took a step back to examine the seriousness in Aelin’s expression was nothing compared to his heartbeat’s pace.

“You’re not.” 

“Rowan, you just told me it was pretty obvious—not ten minutes ago.”

“I was talking about depression!”

“Depression!?” 

Rowan paused. Tentatively, he added, “Your depressive episode…?”

“Honey, why on earth would you think I’m depressed?”

“You’ve been so tired.”

She pointed at her lower belly. “Exactly.”

“And you changed all your medication.”

“Exactly!”

Rowan blinked.

Oh, shit.

He took a step back. And another.

“Rowan? Are you alright?”

Not again. He was absolutely not doing this shit again. Blindly, he opened the door behind him.

“Rowan Whitethorn, you are not leaving this room right now. This is so not the response you’re giving me after I tell you I’m preg—“

“Wait. Just—” he gave her a pleading look “—wait a minute. You didn’t tell me anything yet.”

She crossed her arms, eyes hard. “I’m pretty sure I did.”

“You want to trust me with this. You didn’t tell me anything yet. You’ll agree with me when I come back.”

“You have five minutes to put yourself together before I kick you out for the night.” When Aelin checked the time on her phone, her movements were as stiff as her jaw. 

And then he ran. 

First to the garage, where the ladder was. He did stumble over a box or two and made too much noise for the late hour, but Aelin’s clock was running. Then, he took it to their bedroom, thankful that she decided to stay in the spare room for what he was about to do.

Rowan set the ladder next to the curtain and climbed it until he could reach the top. He unscrewed the finial at the very end and checked the curtain pole—more precisely, the jewelry baggie he hid inside it. There, laid the not-so-new possession that could bankrupt a small country—or at least Rowan’s bank account.

After that, he kneeled before the bottom of his closet and retrieved the red velvet ring box, since it didn’t fit inside the curtain rail. Rowan had no idea how Aelin believed him when she learned he was using a fancy jewelry box to keep his spare keys, but he was glad the small white lie worked in his favor.

When you share a closet with someone as clever as his Fireheart, doing a task such as hiding a wedding ring forces the mind to chew through its own skull to gouge out creativity.

Checking his phone, his five minutes were almost out.

Once again, Rowan ran. He yanked the bedroom door open, and took a sharp turn to meet her by the couch where she sat. However, the mix of his speed, spin and fuzzy mind was the perfect combination to send him tumbling towards the ground before he reached her.

“Rowan!” she shouted as soon as his hip hit the floor, standing up to aid him.

“Stay there,” he said with one hand up and another clutching at his side as he sat on the floor, wincing at the bite of pain.

She stood before him as he commanded, but still studied him carefully, watchful. “Does it hurt?”

“It 's nothing.”

“Honey, you need to be more careful. Your bones aren’t getting any stronger at this age.”

A bark of laughter. “Did you just call me old?”

She shrugged. “Just statistics.”

Rowan abandoned his post-fall sitting position and got on one knee, retrieving the small velvet box from his sweatpants’ pocket, heart on his throat.

When he dared to glance at her, Aelin looked exactly the same as she did a second ago—frozen as a picture. Her lack of reaction freaked him out, but it was too late to retreat.

“Aelin,” he started, then swallowed the lump in his throat. He tried again, “My beloved Fireheart…”

Her mind must’ve catched up with her surroundings, because she straightened herself and stared at him expectantly.

Rowan’s mind went blank.

“Is it a surprise that I’ve kept this ring for months, but couldn’t come up with a speech?”

She shook her head to confirm her lack of surprise, giggling, but it was cut short. “Months?” she asked, frowning. “How many months? We’ve been together for four.”

“Fireheart,” he continued and cleared his throat, not willing to answer her. 

His nerves got the best out of him and he let out a frazzled chuckle. “This is so soon.”

“Time’s a social construct, no need to restrict ourselves to that.” Aelin aimed at a joke, but the emotion welled in her close-lipped smile betrayed the levity behind it.

Rowan placed a brief kiss on her knuckles. “I have this… longing for you. It’s soul-consuming, and there’s no time barriers to it. I’ve longed for you since before I met you. I longed for you when you hated me, I long for you every hour you’re not by my side. But right now, even together, ‘longing’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of how I feel about marrying you—which is why I’m beginning to accept that it won’t ever stop. The more this yearning shifted from an emotion I once ran from into one I now cherish, the more certain I became that this longing for you is my fate, Aelin.”

He supported the hand still holding the box on his knee and leaned to grab Aelin’s hand with his free one. With his eyes closed, Rowan summoned the endless reverence he felt and poured it into kissing her knuckles, head bent.

He looked back up and, without releasing her hand, continued, “I might not be the best man you’ll ever find, but I’m the one who’ll try the hardest to do right by you. I love you. All day, every day. I loved you when I couldn’t tell love was right in front of my face—but now that I know it, there’s no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”

“Fireheart, will you allow me the honor of becoming your husband, to serve and love you for as long as I live?”

A quick blinking and the slight, soundless motion of her agape mouth were the only tells she was conscious.

The short air supply he was getting was probably the reason behind his lightheadedness. If this stretched for any longer, he might need a heart monitor and a cardiologist before Aelin gave him an answer.

Rowan cleared his throat. “...Please?”

It took a second longer before she snapped awake. “Don’t say that!”

Rowan begged Mala this wasn’t a ‘no’. He might need an ambulance for real.

“Don’t say what?”

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Don’t say that!”

Rowan frowned. Her cryptic blank expression was easier to understand than this. “Why are you mad?”

“Because of course I’ll marry you! Saying ‘please’ is just—that’s ridiculous.” Aelin said while dropping to her knees before him, then yanked his face to hers and kissed his lips in a near-violent caress. “I—” Another aggressive peck. “—I love you so much. I’ll marry you a million times over.”

Ease came before joy—Rowan’s entire body relaxed. He wished he could give her a post-proposal movie-worthy kiss, but it wouldn’t work with all that relief rushing out of his lungs and mouth right now.

“Good,” he said, nodding. “Good.” While putting the ring on her finger, he joked, “That was just a formality, actually. It’s not like I’m letting you go anywhere, love.”

She laughed. “So possessive.”

“You better think this through, Fireheart. I won’t get any better once I make you my wife.”

She let out a mocking resigned sigh. “I guess I can live with that.”

Aelin’s new reading nook had enough space for one and a half to cuddle, so she led him there, made him lay down first and set herself on top of him. She hovered over him, forearms braced on each of his side, and it only took him half a mind to cup her face and kiss her.

His entire existence narrowed to Aelin, her thighs straddling his and their tongues tangled as his chest heated and melted, overwhelmed with one of the most vital half-hour spans of his life.

Their millionth kiss. The first of the rest of their lives, executed as urgently as if it was their last.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

Aelin caressed his cheek and peered at him, eyes shiny and her gorgeous, swollen lips twisted into a watery smile. That look on her face—it made him more silly than any love declaration she could ever make.

They held each other’s gazes in a silent conversation, soliloquies and odes and oaths translated into the flow of photons that passed between them and allowed the conversation between turquoise and pine-green irises.

She stroked his cheek and something caught her eye. Aelin giggled.

“You’re quite the decent jewel shopper, Whitethorn.” She kept smiling at her ring, then laid her head on his chest to comfortably move the diamond on her finger and watch it catch the light. 

Rowan was merely window-shopping wedding rings—a pastime he did to try to resist the urge to buy one when it was soon—when he saw it. An emerald cut diamond, as they call it, with an extravagance in its size that balanced the tastefully minimalistic design. 

“You know I’d marry you if you proposed with a cereal box ring, right? I had my answer ready before you bought this tectonic plate.”

Rowan snorted. And she had the gall to say that he was the dramatic one in this relationship.

This engagement.

Truth was, Rowan knew he didn’t have to—the way he gleefully mangled his savings shocked him more than the price itself.

He’s always had the habit of saving money, but even though it was natural for him, there’s always been plans for it as well. The list grew and changed as Rowan did, going from buying gym supplements—that he hid from his mother—in his teenage years to buying a house once free military housing isn’t an option for him anymore, and it was safe to say that spending so much—an amount that symbolized enormous time and effort from him—into an overpriced stone has never made it into the list.

Until her.

That was just a small one of the several ways Aelin changed his life and worldview.

Rowan kissed the top of her head. “I only care that you’re my wife now.”

“I’m not!” she said, laughing.

“You are. We already agreed to it, and I don’t think letting the government know is more important than that.”

“I’m glad I enjoyed my half-hour engagement, then. Shortest in history, if I had to bet.”

“I told you I’m not good with the timing thing.” Rowan didn’t sound apologetic in the least.

Aelin chuckled and buried her face in his chest, grinning against it. His body was half into cozy mode when she perked up, jumping in a way that she was still side-lying, but now with her forearm supporting her torso raised beside him.

“Oh! There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Okay?” Rowan’s tone portrayed his confusion.

It took her a second as she regarded him while biting her lip before Aelin said, “I’m pregnant.”

His grin was slow and immediate. “By Mala’s embers!” Rowan exclaimed, feigning surprise. And then he decided to just blatantly go with it and added, “What a surprise!”

Aelin threw her head back, her loud cackles filling the room in the most overwhelmingly fulfilling way. 

When she first told him, Rowan felt frustrated he didn’t get to execute the plan of marrying her before getting pregnant again, hence his odd first reaction. However, now he realized how silly that was, even if he still appreciated Aelin pretending to tell him after.

Emotion melted his features into a soft smile. “A really damn good surprise.”

“We didn’t plan for it.”

“We also weren’t actively avoiding it.” A pregnancy so soon was surprising, but Rowan wasn’t about to play dumb. They did treat condoms as an afterthought to the point in which it was just a matter of time. Especially with their frequency, he recalled with no amount of male satisfaction. “Maisie was a surprise too, and having her is pretty amazing, right?”

“Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “And Maisie was a whole different level of unplanned.”

Having a baby (1) with a man she worked with, (2) that she wasn't supposed to be sleeping with, (3) while being in a relationship with another man—Rowan didn’t think a baby could be more unplanned than Maisie, and look at them now.

She hummed. “I might be getting on birth control after this one. I don’t want to be that couple with 11 surprise babies that weren’t really a surprise.”

“Gods,” he cursed while protectively holding her belly. “Will you at least let this one come out before deciding on the sperm cell genocide?”

Aelin’s quivering lips betrayed her seriousness. “I mean it.”

“All right, no 11 kids. Got it,” he agreed, as serious as he could be. “But if you want twelve, I can make it to major before kid #5. That’s a big paycheck, baby.” 

She bumped his nose. “In your dreams, Not-A-Major Whitethorn.”

“You think I’m joking?” he challenged, joking. “Just you wait until the 12th Galathynius-Whitethorn comes and I’m lieutenant colonel. I’ll fit 12 more in my pocket.” 

Aelin leaned down to kiss him, but it got messy due to their laughing, so they resigned to a few pecks.

“I love you,” she said, placing a trail of kisses on his lip, cheek and nose.

“I love you.” Rowan tilted her face and kissed her thoroughly now that the mood had sobered. “And two or twelve, you call the shots.”

She raised her brows. “I never thought I wouldn’t.”

Mala forbid a man tries to show some support.

A loud clatter echoed over the silent house, alerting both of them, and it sounded a lot like the broom they placed outside Maisie’s door as a noise trap.

A softer, squeaky sound followed, the confirmation they needed—the typical sound of a door hinge that was purposefully left unoiled.  

Maisie was awake.

Both of them jumped off the couch to find Maisie in the hallway, right outside their bedroom. 

“Did you have a bad dream, Mais?” Rowan asked.

She looked between their bedroom door and the spare room’s, likely confused about their location, but she had more pressing matters to discuss.

“Tooth fairy is late.”

Shit. Between a new baby and the proposal, he completely forgot about it.

“Maisie,” Aelin warned in her soft mom tone. “Were you trying to catch Tooth Fairy?”

“No,” the little girl blatantly lied.

Rowan walked into her room and found a stolen Alexa from the kitchen. When he opened his phone to check the history? A request to be woken up in the middle of the night.

“Tooth Fairy isn’t late, you wanna know why?” Aelin asked their sheepish-looking daughter. “When she visits kids, she starts with the ones who don’t make a fuss when it’s time to brush their teeth—and you, Maisie Whitethorn, are at the very bottom of the list.” 

The little girl’s eyes widened, as she probably reconsidered the last five and a half years of her life—or whatever she could remember of it.

“But she’ll still come tonight, right?”

Aelin regarded their overeager daughter and softened. “Of course she will,” she confirmed with the satisfaction of someone who not only got away with their own slip, but also turned it into a learning opportunity for Maisie.

Evil genius.

He couldn’t wait to marry her.

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[strtravels]

He was sorry. Peace and quiet was what she would have needed. A few days of rest, on which she could only focus on her own recovering. She needed it. She deserved it. But he was also very much, painfully so even, aware that this wasn’t how UNIT got things done. Nor was it how Kate functioned. Perhaps there were too similar in the regard that they couldn’t leave their work behind, simply because they had left HQ. In any other office job, you could just go home and lock your worries in with the paperwork in your office. Not so at UNIT. You carried your worries everywhere, and it wasn’t something that only concerned the company you worked for, but it was a question of the world’s safety. – Sometimes he wondered what his life would be, if he had never said yes to the job, over thirty years ago; couldn’t help but wonder if he would still be with the army or if retirement had come up. There were darker sides to his thoughts too, some days, but he pushed them away, unwilling to admit any of it.

The point was, while he felt sorry for having to talk about work now, he also knew it was necessary – and apart from that, it kept him from stuttering through his own thoughts and the things he wanted to tell Kate. It was better not to tell her anything. He couldn’t complain about the life he was living now, and surely someday he would get over those feelings, that still held him in an iron grip at this moment – seeing Kate still looking so tired, with the exhaustion slowly catching up to her again. For a moment, he considered stopping the whole conversation and making up some excuse why he had to leave, simply so Kate could lay down. Her words, the look she gave him and the knowledge that she wouldn’t rest, even if he left now, kept him from it.

Lips pressed together for a moment, he continued the conversation after a short nod to acknowledge Kate’s words and the decision she had made. “It was something Vikram suggested – arresting Garman at the next chance, but we already discussed that it would draw attention.” Another short nod. “We agreed that it is not how we want to proceed. The idea of cornering Artie Garman on some public engagement also came up. There’s an exclusive event he was invited to. A preview of some tech being launched in a few weeks. Of course, he has been invited to it, and – Josh had the idea, that he could sneak in and find out more.” Another little smile managed. They hadn’t completely found out Garman’s schedule for the next week or so, but they had done some of their homework. The smile was also there because – it was so very Josh to throw himself out there again, was it? Despite what his last undercover mission had caused. Another part of the job? He was too tired to answer the questions, bordering great philosophical ones, inside his own head.

Repressing a yawn, he flipped to the last page of the file he had been showing Kate; the invitation to a highly exclusive gala. “ – I have the feeling you’re going to suggest that it should be you who is going to it, though.” He knew her too well, too. Another thing they had in common, perhaps? They couldn’t stay out of the centre of everything. Another thing he didn’t like to admit, though, and so he concentrated on the work laying in front of him, again. “ – it’s the end of next week. Saturday. I don’t…” Stopped himself again. How had he wanted to end that sentence? He was unsure himself and shook his head gently at the end.

“I don’t think we get a better chance than this to get close to him without raising suspicions. We could also be lucky for once and whoever is using him, could be at said event as well. They could even be the ones pulling the strings for this, too. I’m afraid we couldn’t find out much about what they are presenting. They are very secretive – and when I left HQ, IT was still trying to recover some CCTV footage that might help identify the attacks.” The ones that hadn’t been killed, at least.

Stop it! She wanted to tell him. Stop looking at me like that. She wanted to shout it with such conviction that he'd never look at her at all ever again, and then she would never have to make up her mind because he would've made it for her. What Edward wanted, what he needed, was something she worried she didn't have in her anymore. Everything she had, blood sweat and tears, she'd given in service to the planet. This job. This duty. She would have died to defend it. Almost had just two days ago……. had he not saved her life. The look in his eyes he'd given her before he'd turned away just then, she'd seen that same look that day too. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could admit she'd reciprocated it too.

Ed was speaking again. Kate blinked in response, glad for the opportunity it afforded her. Another chance to bide her time, keep then both waiting for her to actually acknowledge this thing between them. ( How long could she keep up that pretence? Until one of them was….no, She couldn't even bring herself to think of that. )

❝ Taking Garman in for questioning will be a tricky business. I do hope Vikram's great plan isn't to arrest him in public. if Garman is a scapegoat for someone else's agenda, it'll do nothing but alert them to the fact we're on the right track, Garman won't have anything of note to say and if he does, whoever's behind this will have the sense to rescue him or worse, make short work of him before we can get anything valuable out of him. That leaves us with two options. ❞ Whitehall bloody bureaucracy or…

❝ We need to corner Artie at a public engagement, somewhere that won't rouse suspicion from higher ups, but he won't be able shy away from without rousing suspicions of his own. Now I know-I know it's a risk, but if we sit on our heels for too long there's every chance that gives our attacker the chance to slip away….. ❞ She paused there, letting out a shaky breath. She may have been slowly returning to her usual self, however, that wasn't to say she was quite there yet. The day had already began to take it's toll, and this ridiculous, hopeless, awkwardly incurable situation they found themselves in wasn't helping.

On instinct her hand twitched, fingers stretching across the blanket dangerously close to his. ❝ No, no, It's alright Ed. I'm fine. ❞ Her gaze settled upon his, dark brown against blue, sternly reprimanding him before he could start. She knew Ed, like the back of that same hand. He'd been a comforting presence over those long hours at HQ, familiar. A shoulder she'd leaned on too heavily, and now, here they were. A curse of her own making really. ❝ Besides, I-I don't think I would know what peace and quiet looks like anymore …. We have work to do. ❞

❝ We'll-we'll need to make some calls, find out Artie's schedule for the next week or so… We need to move quickly. ❞

[littlepikmins]

I love thinking about time skip future magluck!! Captain of the Bulls Magna and Vice Captain Luck or they're still known as the Special Assault Duo and do very specific missions for Wizard King Asta! Or even both at the same time!

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[tonycries]

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[hoshiina]

guys contrary to popular belief (very reasonable considering the lack of fics I post) I am actually writing something most of the time. I'm just INCREDIBLY SLOW AT WHAT I DO

[toji-bunny-girl]

You don't go to the library to study. You go there to have your cunt stuffed, by nonother than librarian!Gojo.

He works there 5 days a week, and you made sure to be there by your corner every single one of those days, carefully staring at him through the side of your book. Of course, he's well aware of your interest in him. You're so preoccupied with him you don't even realise you're holding the book upside down.

He doesn't realise it yet but he's slow to share the same amount of attraction to you as you are to him. He'd note the way your eyebrows would adorably scrunch together when you're actually doing your assignment for once, and you'd collapse face down onto the table when the frustration and exhaustion caught up to you. Or how your favourite colour seemed to be pink, your stationery and laptop covered in different shades of the colour.

He's used to your presence by now, having spent the last couple of weeks observing you just as you stalked him through the library. And truth to be told, he actually enjoyed it—he's got a cutie following behind him, too shy to strike up a conversation with him and too dumb to hide your little crush any better.

You quickly became the only part of his job he would look forward to, questioning what kind of crap you were going to pull up to just right before his shift. Until you're gone all of a sudden.

Maybe you were just late, he thought on the first day of your absence. Or maybe you're sick by the second day. Perhaps you're just busy with school…or maybe some another guy—

Why does he even care in the first place? You're just some stalker with a pretty face, nothing special out of the sea of girls in his DMs. Gojo doesn't like how he's fretting over a girl who he hasn't talked to before, your presence doesn't control how his day goes anyway.

Until it does.

It exasperated him by how he allowed himself to be subjugated under you. He can't focus on his seminars when the voices in his head wonder about you louder than the lecturer's, he can't flirt with the chicks on campus without thinking about that fangirl from the library and he can't sleep if his head is filled with the images of you with another guy.

What kind of spell have you managed to put him under?

He was completely and utterly chafed by the next week when he entered his shift, a frown seemingly marked permanently upon his face as he went through his chores, putting away the books back to their categorised shelves. That was until he heard a familiar pit-pats of your shoes, and saw your figure stupidly hiding behind a bookshelf from the side of his eye.

His playful spirit returned when he noted your presence, and he wandered further into the library, where no one could see the two of you. As expected, you shuffled along his steps before slipping yourself into the aisle behind him, pretending to flick through the choices of books on display.

Those were Chinese novels, and you majored in Biochemistry. Idiot, he thought with an internal chuckle.

Unbeknownst to you, he had strolled to your back, waiting for you to turn to face him. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you found him standing right in front of you, and you froze then and there like a deer in the headlights.

"I know you've been stalking me around here," he had a shit-eating smirk on his face as his arms rested by your sides to trap you in between them. "Freak," he whispered next to your ears, sending a tingle through your nerves.

"I-I, ah—" you stammered, trying to collect your words to sound coherent. Your face was flushed bloody red with embarrassment, and Gojo was sure he'd burn himself if he were to touch you.

"But that's okay…" he drawled. "I won't spread the word if you listen to me."

Your eyes were wide, gaping at him through your lashes as you nodded.

Fuck, were you adorable.

"You like me, huh?"

"Uhm…I, uh…"

"Hm?"

"Y-Yes," you blurted with your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed. Your breath was hot, and they scorched his cheeks red upon your words.

"What do you like about me?" oh god does he love teasing the hell out of you.

"Your f-face…"

"My face?" he feigned dumb. Of course, he's well aware that girls would only come chasing after his looks. But he absolutely enjoyed torturing you with his stupid questions. "Which part of my face?"

"Huh…?" your eyes were spinning, your hands raising to push his frame a little away for your comfort.

"My eyes? My nose?" his bigger hand captured the two of yours into his grasp, his fingers were icy cold against yours, and his face neared yours once again, merely a breath away. "Or my lips?"

You didn't dare to answer, the sound of your throat gulping filled the air as a few stray hairs of his tickled your cheek. His eyes peered towards yours, catching your gaze that fell upon his lips.

"There, huh?" Gojo's smirk widened, his grip on your wrists tightening a fraction. "Wanna try them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words left your trembling lips, except for a silent gasp. He took the shift of your feature as a sign for him to advance onto you, his lips gently sucked on your soft flesh, the tiniest amount of your saliva flowed onto his tongue and they tasted better than the finest honey.

A string of your mixed essence connected his lips to yours, red and swollen as a sign of his kiss, when he pulled away. Your knees weakened in enfeeblement, and Gojo caught you before you could fall to the ground.

"You're done?" his arms are strong, and you could feel his muscles flex under your hand when you gathered your strength to stabilise on your feet. "I'm not."

His touches slowly trailed down from your arm to your hips, and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together when his gaze fell onto them. In his eyes you could see a growing hunger that lurked beneath his bright blue eyes, it was the darker gradient that hung low in his orbs.

"Do you touch yourself here when you think of me?" your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and your eyes peered down to between your skirt, where his hand was as you vaguely nodded; hoping that he didn't see the faint motion of your head.

How wouldn't he know when all his attention is on you? His eyes scanned the faint shifts in your features when he pressed against your heat, making sure there wasn't any hint of dissent to his touch—and mostly searching for the muted salacity behind your pretty eyes.

"Sometimes…" your voice was meek, but it was audible enough for his ear to twitch at your words. His chest almost burst to your confession, and the images of your features twisting into lewd faces flashed past his mind, calling out his name with that sweet voice of yours.

A soft moan left your lips when his fingers slipped past your pink panty, drawing slow circles upon your clit. Your hips bucked as he teased, his other hand coming down to palm your ass.

"What about I make you feel good?" he gently asked, and you drunkenly nodded to your pleasure. His thumb grew charge of teasing your hardening bud, his two long fingers dipped into your already-slick cavern, reaching the sensitive parts of your inside.

Your lips tensed into a line to quell the moans that drew from your itching tummy, and your hands rested on Gojo's chest, gripping onto his shirt for support.

His fingers grew greedy for more of your whimpers, stroking past your walls, searching for the velvety spot in you. You threw your head back when he found the part he was looking for, pumping out and into the spongey surface, stimulating your nerves to their limit.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids flew shut when he expedited the speed of his slick-coated digits, his arm growing slightly sore as he carried you to the height of your orgasm. His cock twitched when you drew out a cry of pleasure, your breath stuck in your throat as your mind went blank from your high.

Your grip on his clothes loosened, and you panted as you rest your weight against the shelves, Gojo's damp fingers evident of the pleasure he delivered to you. He watched as you collected your remaining breath, your cheeks flushed pink in arousal and your eyesight slowly blinked clear.

A bolt flash of surprise ran through his eyes when you carefully pulled his pants down, gripping his hardened girth with your warm hands. Gojo stopped you with a grab of your wrist, your whole body tensing in creeping embarrassment—he doesn't like it when you touch him?

Your thoughts flew out the window when he spat onto your palm, before guiding your hand back to his throbbing cock. Your mind grew blank as you began fisting his length, his breath hitching when you rubbed over his pinkish-red tip.

Your touches were filled with careful inexperience, and Gojo found it absolutely fucking adorable. The soft squelching of his saliva in your hand as you pumped his cock filled the air, and he inched closer to kiss you once again.

His groans flowed into your mouth as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, drinking in the taste of you as you pleased him. You seemed to be a quick learner on your own, pumping his pulsing cock faster, gripping onto him tighter, and rubbing his sensitive tip of all.

His hips stuttered along with the movements of your hand, a sign of his close release and you were clearly relentless to please him. Your pace doesn't falter, but fastened instead and his moans muffled through your sloppy kiss, your mixed drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

"Fuck," his voice cracked as his cock twitched, before ejaculating his hot semen onto your clothes, slowly dripping down to your thigh. Your breaths mingled in the sultry air, the smell of your essences filled your nostrils as the both of you cooled from the aftermath of your highs.

You recognised the dirty smirk on his face when you flicked your gaze up at him, and you sank into the bookshelf in preparation for what he had conjured up in his mind.

"The library closes in 30 minutes, we'll get the whole place to ourselves by then."

[onceinablueberrymoon]

intentionally by chance | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | series masterlist scenario: a month after seeing the salesman on his way to the airport, gi-hun returns to that subway station every day, hoping to find the salesman and confront him. this is where you come in. setting: takes place after the events of season 1, but before gi-hun hires the loan shark group to search for the salesman warnings: deception; pregnant!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 1.3k notes: salesman fluff! ♡ this guy’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks now, so i had to write about him. my first fic in years! i like to think that S1 salesman is more chill than in S2. please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Excuse me… Can you please help me?”

The red-haired man, who was perusing the endless options of cup ramyeon, turned in your direction, but remained planted a few feet away from you. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself.

You nodded, adjusting the items you were holding in your arms. “Can you grab me that cup of ramyeon from the shelf? I’d get it, but my hands are full…” 

The man walked over and retrieved your cup of ramyeon. As he handed it to you, he noticed your pronounced bump under your sweater and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Miss, you’re in no condition to be carrying so much. Please, let me help you bring it to the checkout.”

With your approval, he unloaded the rest of your snacks into his arms. The two of you walked to the register, where you insisted on paying for his own cup of ramyeon. You suggested eating the ramyeon at one of the tables outside the subway station’s convenience store, but he insisted on sitting on a bench on the subway platform. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to eat here? It’s not the most ideal dining spot…” You slurped your noodles happily. The man ate slowly, popping his head up every so often and eyeing his surroundings carefully. 

“I’m… looking for something. Nothing you should worry yourself with,” he continued to eat his food while you gave him a skeptical look.

“Perhaps I could help? Well, as long as I don’t have to move very much,” you chuckled, patting your stomach. He gave you a soft smile before changing the topic. 

“Shouldn’t your husband be buying you food instead of you coming to get it yourself?” He gestured to your bag of snacks, and you giggled.

“My husband buys me all the food I want, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house! It’s no fun being cooped up all day,” you sighed. The man nodded in understanding. 

“It’s also nice to talk to other people, like you,” you smiled at him. He returned your smile, but then his eyebrows shot up when a sharp smack echoed throughout the platform. 

The man jumped up, his cup ramyeon forgotten on the bench. You turned to see where the noise had come from, only to find a group of students huddled around another student who had dropped their textbooks on the ground. From what you could hear, it seemed like they were holding them for a friend but couldn’t handle the weight.

The red-haired man froze for a few seconds, then sat back down, heaving a big sigh. 

“Are you alright, sir? There’s nothing to worry about – it was just some books that fell.” You tried to comfort the man in some way, but he brushed the incident off. 

“I’m fine. It just… reminded me of something,” he tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t convince you. “Don’t worry about me. Please eat,” he gestured to your unfinished ramyeon, “you need strength for your baby.”

The rest of your time together was pleasant, but you were still not convinced that the man’s reaction was nothing. You both finished your noodles, disposing the packaging and your utensils before parting ways. 

Once you returned home, you put the remaining snacks away and settled on the sofa. There were still a few hours before your husband was due home. You got yourself comfortable, curled up under a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

“Rough day?”

You cracked open your eyes. All you could see was a blurry grey shape, but you already knew who it was. 

Blinking your eyes a few times, your husband’s handsome face came into focus, with his usually crisp grey suit looking a bit creased. His usual smirk graced his face as he looked down at you on the sofa.

“I should be asking you that. What happened to your suit?” You sat up and he sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“One prospective player became violent when he lost at ddakji for the 20th time in a row. Of course, I was able to subdue him, but it took more effort than usual,” your husband tried to press down a crease on his sleeve, but to no avail. He rested a hand on your rounded belly, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“How was today? I trust you succeeded in your mission?” 

You scoffed, “He was exactly where you said he’d be. I was able to have a conversation with him. We even ate ramyeon together for lunch!” 

Your husband turned to face you, an eyebrow raised. “You ate ramyeon together?” He gave a small pout, “I thought I was the only one you ate ramyeon with.”

Immediately, your face flustered as you explained yourself, “Hey, you know that I would never cheat!” Then, you scoffed, “We ate cup ramyeon, alright? Not whatever fantasy you’re imagining in that head of yours.” He laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Oh, but I have some exciting news,” you said with a sparkle in your eyes. “He’s still looking for you. And he’s basically gone mad trying to find you.” This caught your husband’s attention.

“While we were eating, there was a loud noise. Turned out that a kid dropped their books. But Gi-hun didn’t know that. He shot up so fast I swear I thought he was possessed!” 

Your husband seemed to take in your findings carefully, continuing his circles on your bump as if they helped him focus. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for, but he specifically wanted us to sit on the subway platform, so I think it’s safe to say he’s searching for you.” Your husband had previously informed you that he had spotted a player he had already recruited at the Incheon Airport subway station, albeit with flaming red hair. After talking with the Frontman, he confirmed that Seong Gi-hun was indeed the winner of the 33rd edition of the Games. 

Once you shared the rest of your intel with your husband, you let out a big sigh. 

“Should I meet with Gi-hun again? It’d be useful to know his location and I could maybe gather more info,” you looked at your husband who had since sat up, but he didn’t take his hand off your bump. 

He pondered your question for a moment. “While I would benefit from knowing his whereabouts, I’m more afraid of something happening to you,” his voice sounded strained. “I wouldn’t be there to protect you and our child.” 

You leaned onto his shoulder, resting a hand on top of his on your belly. “We’ll be fine. If anything, Gi-hun was also concerned for me because of the baby,” you winked. “Maybe they’re the key to earning his trust.” 

Your husband’s lips tightened into a straight line. While he wasn’t happy that you would spend time with someone who clearly despised him, you were right — your pregnancy would lower Gi-hun’s defenses. You knew how much your husband’s schedule was impacted by Gi-hun’s constant presence on the AREX subway line. It would greatly help your husband if you could keep Gi-hun at one station while he recruited prospective players for the Games. 

Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stood up, attempting once again to smooth out the crease on his sleeve. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to the Frontman to see if we can get you any additional protection. I still don’t like the idea of you being around Gi-hun alone. If he learns of our relationship, I imagine he will use you as ransom,” he clicks his tongue, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

You shook your head and stood up next to your husband. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“For now, continue researching prospective players. I’m almost done with your last batch,” he flashed his signature smirk, which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“On it. Rumour has it that Tapgol Park has an abundance of people down on their luck…”

[asxgard]

Oooo I can’t stop thinking about Robby noticing symptoms of a serious illness in his partner overtime and getting her the tests and help she needs

Bedside Manner | one shot

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Requested

Summary: After ignoring your symptoms for far too long, Michael is forced to bring you into the ER.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: It took a hot minute to find something I thought could work, I hope you enjoy! This idea might’ve inspired something else down the road👀

Word Count: 1.5k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: illness/sick reader, established relationship, reader is a teacher, mild angst, foul language, age gap, fluff at the end, pet name (sweetheart)

not beta read

You half attributed your cold to the kids you worked with — a sickness was always being passed in the hallways, especially during this time of year when the air began to cool. You had been able to bear the brunt of the week still going into work, convincing yourself it was only allergies and then only a cold. There was a relief in the weekend, knowing you likely only needed to rest — running low on sleep and stress could do crazy things to the body.

You had moved in with your boyfriend, Michael Robinavitch, before the school year had started, and you were thrilled to call the combined space home. You were less than thrilled that not even three months into it and he was already taking care of you. It was sweet, of course, but he spent all day taking care of just about everyone else. He didn’t need to come home and do it again. You appreciated it, and loved how he took care of you on any normal day, you just felt guilty because you were ill. Though, he didn’t even flinch, bringing you tea or meds or soup from your favorite deli.

When he came home to find you still curled up on the couch, something shifted in his eyes, edging closer to worry.

Michael sat at the edge of the couch to feel your forehead, his own creased in concern. “You should be getting better by now.”

You waved him off, eyes flickering from the tv to his face. “Flu’s been going around. Likely just that.”

His frown deepened, “What’re your symptoms?”

You wanted to roll your eyes, “I’m not a patient, I just caught something at school.”

His quirked eyebrow left no room for argument.

You heaved a sigh and winced, “I’m just tired, my head hurts and my muscles ache because of the fever.”

“If you’re not improving by Monday, I’d like for you to—”

“I’m not going to the ER.” You said, eyes heavy with fatigue. “I’ll wait forever and I’d rather just lay here. I’ll schedule something with my PCP on Monday.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t get you seen right away.”

“I’m sure fluids would do wonders, but perhaps just some tea?” You had no energy to go back and forth with him about it.

He relented and moved into the kitchen to do just that. You were asleep by the time he came back with it.

—

You woke up in bed feeling worse. Despite not eating anything, your stomach rolled uneasily, your room feeling like it was spinning. Your head felt like it was in a vice, tension pulling your skull together like it would squish your brain. That wasn’t even getting into the spreading pain you were feeling.

Part of you wanted to roll over and wake up Michael, but you felt guilty for even thinking about it. His first day off in nearly a week and he was likely going to spend it taking care of you. The least you could do was let him sleep soundly.

Through sheer will, you made it into the adjoining master bathroom, moving to sit on the cold tile. Your body was hot, but chills wracked your body, and you winced whenever you moved your head to turn, muscles in your neck pulled taut.

Nothing came up, but you had zero energy now to move, leaned up against the wall. You regretted not waking Michael up. Your stomach gave another lurch — there was nothing in it but bile.

Through your haze of fatigue, you were unsure if hours or minutes had passed while you sat there. Your mind felt completely foggy, too concentrated on the pain in your head or the aches in your bones.

“Hey, hey,” a voice called, the sound making you wince, “How long have you been in here? What’s wrong?”

You blinked your eyes, but found it difficult to focus on the face now level with yours. Michael’s eyes were easy enough to recognize, but your mind kept switching through topics and forgetting he was there.

“I’m okay,” you breathed out, closing your eyes. “I just wanna get back in bed.”

There was a tense silence.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

You whined, “In the morning? Please. I just want to sleep.”

His hands met your face, and there was relief in how cool they felt against your clammy skin. He was gentle, but firm, quietly assessing you.

He spoke your name, making you hum, but your attention wavered.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Hey.” There was an urgency in his tone that you had not heard before.

You opened your eyes and blinked at him, vision only mildly clearing so you could see the worry etched into his eyes. His brow lines were prominent, as were the crinkles around his eyes — his face pinched together.

“Just…flu…let me sleep.” You said, words heavy and slurred.

—

Michael had never felt fear like that, watching you come in and out of consciousness on the bathroom floor. He knew it had not been the flu, it had been too long without any improvement in symptoms. Instead, they only got worse. Why had he let you convince him to not take you in right away?

He grunted when he scooped you up, hurrying to get you into his car. He knew an ambulance would take too long when he could just take you himself. Your pulse was strong, albeit just a touch fast, and your breathing was steady. He was confident you would be fine until you made it to the ED, but he was wracking his brain over what the hell you had.

The drive to the Pitt felt like it took eternity, catching every light despite the late hour. He barely had even looked at the time after finding you missing from bed. Worry constricted his heart.

He burst through the doors of the ED like a bat out of hell, looking around and hoping to spot Abbot, or someone with a gurney.

“Robby?” The night shift charge nurse asked, bewildered.

That seemed to catch Abbot’s attention, moving from one of the rooms and toward the charge desk. He took in the sight of you in Michael’s arms. He turned and called for nurses, while he quickly went to Michael.

“What’s wrong?”

“High fever, fatigue, joint aches, slurred speech. Uh, fuck, I think she was nauseous before she passed out.” Michael was panting now, more-so from the anxiety crawling through his chest rather than the fact he was still carrying you.

Abbot waved over the gurney and Michael set her down on it, fear bleeding from his heart.

“Pupils reactive. Responds to pain.”

It was a mess of tests after that, each one blurring into the next, but you stayed unconscious. You would come to long enough to respond to pain or Michael’s desperate pleas, but you looked exhausted whenever you did.

Michael stayed diligently by your side, except the moments he would slip away to confer with Abbot about any new information, or tests he thought might be useful.

Fluids did do wonders for making you feel better, hardly having an appetite throughout the week, though when you came to, you still felt sluggish. Michael’s relieved face, however, would stick in your mind for a long time.

“You scared the shit outta me.” He said, hand curling around yours, squeezing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really think it was serious.” You said, blinking your eyes slowly, eyelids still heavy.

“I really should have brought you in when I thought something wasn’t right.”

“Do they know what I have yet?”

He shook his head, “Blood tests should be back shortly.”

You pursed your lips, annoyed, “What’s the consensus?”

“That I should probably listen to my gut more often, and not my stubborn girlfriend.”

“You really need to work on your bedside manner.” You scoffed with a grin. “I’m giving you a three.”

“A three? I think I deserve at least a seven.”

“On what grounds?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I brought you into the hospital? Was your knight in shining armor?”

You giggled, “I can be persuaded to give you a five if you get me something to drink.”

He smiled softly, “Consider it done.”

—

After going over your symptoms with Michael, more in detail this time, he slipped out of the room to talk to Dr. Abbot. When he returned, he had a handful of negative tests and a possible answer.

“Lyme’s Disease? Really?” You questioned, eyebrow raised. “I never got a rash.”

Michael shrugged, “They’re confirming it with a blood test now, but 1 in 3 don’t present with a rash.”

You thought back to the hike you and Michael had taken before the school year started. You had always been safe, long pants tucked into tall socks whenever you went off trail, but you had no memory of being bitten or being itchy. You had done a tick check before you got into Michael’s truck and showered when you got back home.

“Well, that’s irritating.” You frowned, “Will I be okay?”

Michael nodded, his face finally having relaxed, “After a course of antibiotics, you should be fine.”

You heaved a long sigh, but relief flushed through you. “Thank you for bringing me in, I’m sorry I scared you.”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You smiled, pulling him down for another. “Your score just went up to an eight.”

He laughed.

All Robby Content Taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys

All The Pitt Content Taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera

This became a lot more dramatic than I intended lol sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted, anon!

Most of the symptoms are based on someone I knew who had Lyme’s Disease before, but I was thriving on the drama so I might’ve taken it a bit too far. I’m not in the medical field, so forgive any errors.

[eufezco]

MOONY'S BACK! 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

marauder!remus lupin x slytherin!reader

synopsis — remus returns from his first date with you, a slytherin girl, and has to face his friends’ teasing in the common room.

fluff

remus entered the gryffindor common room.

he felt his heart beating harder than usual and his nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold air—and perhaps something more. the fire crackled softly in the hearth. before going in, remus knew the common room won't be empty. his friends had been insufferably annoying all week about this day and remus had a feeling they’d been waiting for him to return.

and sure enough, they were there. sirius lounged across the armchair closest to the fire, his legs draped over one arm and his head resting against the other. james was seated on the couch, reading a copy of quidditch weekly, while lily was resting against his body, with her head on his chest. peter was lying on the floor talking to her.

—moony's back! —peter announced. not even a second after remus set a foot into the common room. the moment those words left peter’s mouth, james, lily and sirius jumped from their seats.

—oh he's cheeks are more red than his gryffindor scarf!

remus touched them with the back of his hand as he took off his coat and scarf and left them hanging on a chair. —it's because of the snow outside.

—yeah, sure it's not because of that slytherin girl.

—did she kissed you? —peter asked straight up.

remus cheeks grew even hotter but he didn't answer to the question.

—you gotta tell us everything, moony! come on!

lily dragged him next to the fireplace and forced him to sit on the rug.

—is it really necessary? —remus asked, dying of embarrassment as he glanced up at his friends, who were eagerly looking back at him. james and sirius went back to sit on the couch, lily and peter were sitting in front of him on the floor.

—of course, it is! —lily said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

—oh, come on, moony, we’re all dying here, we've been waiting all afternoon. we just want to know how the date of the century went.

remus rolled his eyes at sirius words.

james decided that it was his time to join sirius' teasing. —yeah, and with a slytherin girl, no less. did she try to hex you? or, i dunno, bite you?

—good question, prongs. did she call you a blood traitor between compliments?

lily let out a dramatic sigh, giving them a sharp look. —you two are absolutely insufferable, —she said and turned back to remus, her voice softening. —don’t listen to them. they’re just jealous you had an actual date.

—she didn’t hex me, bite me, or called me a blood traitor, alright? she was perfectly nice and we had a great time —. remus stated. james and sirius huffed a laugh.

—a great time is suspiciously vague. care to elaborate?

remus played with his hands, the heat coming back to his cheeks when he started to remember everything.

—did she like the flowers, remus? —peter asked with excitement.

remus stood at the door of the castle, waiting for you. every time he looked at the bouquet in his hands, the wildflowers he carefully picked himself, he felt a little ridiculous. maybe it was too much for a first date. what if you thought it was silly? or worse, what if you didn’t like flowers at all? what if you were allergic to flowers? —flowers, moony? bold move. what’s next, planning the wedding? he shouldn't have told james and sirius. they spent the whole morning teasing him, and now their words were stuck on repeat in his mind. but peter told him it was a good idea, you were always so focused in herbology so you'd most likely loved them. in the middle of all the overthinking, remus heard the soft sound of footsteps on stone. he looked up, and there you were, walking down the stair with a shy but bright smile. your heart beat faster after seeing remus and you had to focus on the stairs, the last thing you wanted was to trip and make a fool of yourself in front of him. still, you only could think about how sweet he looked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. —hi —you said, your voice a little breathless but smiling. —hi —he replied. remus held out the bouquet. —these are for you. i thought you might like them. your eyes fell to the flowers. it was a careful mix of pinks, yellows and whites. the gesture made your chest ache in the best way because you know that he picked them himself for you. —they’re beautiful, —you said, your fingers brushing his as you took them. —thank you, remus. i love them.

—yes! i knew she'd love them —. peter said, triumphant.

—tell us, moony, did you hold her hand?

—padfoot, the audacity! —james gasped dramatically. —you held her hand on the first date, moony? i don't know who you are anymore!

remus rolled his eyes while he rubbed his hands, brushing over his thick scars. he tried not to hold your hand, not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew you’d notice the scars. and though he knew you weren’t the kind of person to say anything unkind, the thought of you touching them, of you asking about them, made his stomach twist.

to avoid falling in the snow, you had hooked your arm in remus'. you were laughing, your boots crunching through the snow, the conversation had flowed easily as always happened between you two. you were so comfortable in his presence that you didn't even realize that your hand began to slide down his arm, fingers tracing along the thick fabric of his coat until they slipped into his, curling naturally around his hand. when you glanced up at him, his cheeks were red but his lips curved into a shy smile. remus didn’t pull away. if anything, his hand tightened around yours. the scars on his hands didn’t matter to you. you noticed them long ago, during one of those afternoons in the library when the two of you studied together. he was flipping through the pages of a book and you saw them. it wasn’t hard to tell that he was self-conscious about them, he always wore the longest sweaters, ones that hung just past his wrists and sometimes even covered all his hands. that’s why you never asked him about it, except when you noticed some fresh ones, you couldn't help but ask him if he was okay.

—she was the one who held your hand! —james repeated. —moony, i think this girls wants to marry you.

—we’ll start planning the wedding now. peter, you can handle the flowers, moony’s already set the tone with that bouquet.

and they all laughed, even lily, who usually rolled her eyes at sirius and james’s relentless teasing, and remus, who usually found himself the victim of their jokes, couldn’t help but crack a smile.

—but come on, keep telling us!

—well, we walked to hogsmeade and we first visited some bookstores. she loves reading, she was so excited, practically dragging me around the place to show me her favorite sections and i had no complaints, as you can imagine.

james and sirius exchanged a look in disbelief and for once, neither of them could think of something to say. they had never seen their friend remus like this.

it wasn’t that girls hadn’t shown interest in him before, they had. but remus had always been polite, reserved, never letting things go past a conversation about books or classwork. he’d keep his distance, waving them hi in the corridors, showing them shy smiles, remembering their names, listening when they spoke, even sharing his notes if they needed help.

but dating? that had always seemed beyond him. it was complicated, messy, and exposed.

—merlin’s beard, —sirius murmured not wanting to interrupt remus who kept talking about you. sirius glanced at james with wide eyes. —she’s breaking down his walls.

james nodded slowly, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. —and he’s letting her.

the moment you turned the corner, your eyes landed on the familiar wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, your favorite bookstore. it was small, away from the main street of hogsmeade, often closed when you visited, as if it only opened for those who truly needed it. you gasped, catching your breath in surprise. —it’s open! and he didn’t resist, letting you drag him toward the door. remus could immediately see why you liked the store so much, it was cozy, small but inviting, and it smelled like coffee and wood. run by an elderly woman who greeted you both as you entered, she gave you a knowing nod, as though she’d seen your excitement countless times before. —it's good that you've finally brought your boyfriend here. a handsome gryffindor boy, no less, welcome dear. remus froze for a split second, his cheeks hot red. —oh, i... um... —he looked at you for help. you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, though your own cheeks felt a little warm. —he’s not my... —you started, but the old woman waved you off with a twinkle in her eye. —no need to explain, dear, you don’t have to tell an old woman what’s plain to see —. she winked at you both before turning back to her counter. you nudged him playfully. —don’t worry, she says things like that to everyone. probably —remus gave you a skeptical look but couldn’t help smiling as he let you lead him deeper into the shop.

of course, he didn't tell his friends about this, he didn't even want to think about how much james and sirius would tease him.

remus continued talking about you. lily looked at him closely, wanting to know everything he could tell her about you. —she has good taste in books, she recommended me one about history of magic, she says it will make that class more interesting and help me pay more attention.

—that's so sweet of her. she noticed that you zone out during history of magic —. a sweet giggle escaped lily's lips.

remus rubbed the back of his neck. —yeah, i guess it’s not exactly a secret. —he shook his head, he didn't want to talk about history of magic right now, he wanted to keep talking about you. —then we went to the three broomstick.

—let me guess, she ordered something weird, like firewhisky, and you had to pretend to be cool with it?

remus rolled his eyes. —no, sirius. she ordered butterbeer, like a normal person.

—remus, you two seem to be very comfortable around each other —lily said, her tone innocent, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. —there had to be a kiss.

sirius and james shared a look, they seemed genuinely surprised by lily’s boldness but they didn't say anything because they were more interested in remus' answer. the heat of his cheeks spread all the way up to his ears. james’s eyes widened as he caught remus’s expression. —so there was a kiss! —he exclaimed, pointing a finger at him like he’d just solved a mystery.

—do we really need to talk about this?

—yes! —all four of them said in unison.

you sat across from remus, the soft light from the lanterns of the three broomsticks lightened his face with a soft glow. it caught the silvery scars that lined his cheek, making them shimmer faintly, though he seemed oblivious to it. a single butterbeer sat between you, the two of you had been sharing it. you pointed at the corner of remus’s mouth. —oh, you have something, —you said, gesturing to the spot. —where? —he asked, looking confused as he swiped at his mouth. —no, it’s more to the... —you leaned over the table. —here, let me. you reached out and used your thumb to gently wipe away the trace of butterbeer at the corner of his lips. the moment leaned in closer, just a few inches apart now, his golden-brown eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he looked at you. you closed the gap, your lips brushed his in a sweet kiss. remus froze for a moment but then he closed his eyes and melted into it. when you pulled back, his cheeks were pink, his expression soft as he said —you, um... you missed a spot. you laughed, your own cheeks warm as you sat back down. —i’ll get it next time.

the room went silent for a beat. peter sat there thinking, confusion spreading across his face. james was the one who broke the silence as he threw his head back, laughing. —that’s brilliant! the old ‘you’ve got something on your face’ trick.

peter was still confused. sirius shook his head. —she’s bold. i like her.

lily was smiling warmly. —i think it’s cute, —she said. —clearly, she’s not afraid to show how she feels.

peter’s eyes widened and he gasped as the realization hit him. —so she kissed you twice! —he exclaimed.

sirius groaned. it was working just fine, they were all surprised that remus had told them about another kiss and not the one they had seen from the common room, but they handled it just fine and knew how to hide it, all except peter. sirius threw one of the pillows at him. —you idiot!

remus frowned, it was true that you kissed him twice but how could peter possibly know that? —you spied on us?!

—spied is a strong word —. james said.

peter lifted his arms defensively, ducking as another pillow came flying his way. —no, not spy! we just… saw you two walking back to the castle. by accident! while we were… uh, checking the weather.

james smirked, leaning back in his seat. —exactly and that second kiss? didn’t think you were that much taller than her, moony, but there she was, standing on her tiptoes in the snow. pretty romantic, actually.

remus was mortified.

you walked arm in arm with remus back to the castle, his presence keeping you warm enough from the cold weather outside. the date went better than you ever could have imagined. remus was charming, thoughtful, and surprisingly funny. every moment with him felt genuine, like the two of you existed in a bubble where nothing else mattered. as you neared the castle, you found yourself thinking about how you didn't want the evening to end. you stopped face to face, you had to say goodbye but the words didn't come out of any of yours mouth. you didnt want it to end. remus stood there, his hands awkwardly tucked into the pockets of his coat, his gaze flickering between your face and the ground. —well... —you both said at the same time. —see you tomorrow in class. you nodded. —yeah, see you tomorrow —. your arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug. his arms slowly went around your waist, pulling you in just a little bit closer. when you pulled back from the hug, the space between you was closer, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on your lips. your heart beat faster in your chest, and before either of you could think too much about it, you stood on your tiptoes and closed the distance, pressing your lips to his one more time. remus took his hands out of his pockets to hold your face and yours pressed against his chest. when you finally pulled away, the smile on remus’s face told you everything you needed to know. —see you tomorrow, then? —you whispered softly, still a little dazed from the kiss. he nodded, his smile never fading. —yeah. tomorrow.

—and you should be grateful that i didn't let them use the invisibility cloak —. lily added.

remus groaned, dragging his hands down his face. —grateful? you’ve got to be joking.

lily's expression softened as she leaned forward. —but seriously, remus, it sounds like it was a nice date. it’s good to see you happy.

—yeah, it was great seeing that slytherin trying to suck your soul and you gladly letting her do it.

lily gave sirius a sharp look, but even she couldn't suppress a small smile at his teasing. remus, however, looked like he might die of embarrassment as he buried his face in his hands again.

—i'm so done with this conversation —. remus added as he stood up from the floor. he wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible so that tomorrow he would arrive earlier.

james just grinned. —you can’t stop now, moony. we’ve just started.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

For King and Kin

22/12: Party and Position Changes - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, smut, prince regent aemond, doggy

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

“She is of a weak disposition, I heard. Perhaps she is with child.”

“The Prince Regent certainly needs an heir.”

“He has looked sour since his Lady Wife left the celebrations.”

Aemond scoffed from his spot at the high table, circling a finger over the rim of his cup, half-filled with wine. They spoke as if he did not hear them, whispering such gossip. It was infuriating.

It was true that his lady wife suffered from sickness, especially in the mornings, but not exclusively. The maesters had told him in quiet confidence that they suspected she was with child, but that it was sensible to wait until the quickening to confirm.

What an excruciating wait.

She had graced the court with her presence earlier in the evening, but when she began to feel her stomach churning, she need only pay him a furrow of her brows in pain and he was more than happy to allow her rest if she needed it.

He was willing to carry her even, excuse himself from the celebrations himself. But she reassured him she was still able to walk, with a small, amused smile.

Even with the conqueror's crown planted firmly upon his head, all he could think of was the sweet curve of his wife's body in his. How warm she is. How smooth her skin. How plush her thighs. How tight her—

“Your Grace.”

Aemond blinked, swallowing thickly as he felt his breeches tighten at the mere tangent his mind was about to embark upon. Nothing softened him faster than the sight of Ser Tyland Lannister though, smug and stood tall as if he himself had been crowned instead of him.

“I wish to congratulate you on your Regency. As always your council will remain steadfast and trustworthy. And should you ever desire a Hand—”

“Thank you, Ser Tyland,” Aemond half-smiled, half-grimaced, “your loyalty is appreciated.”

Aemond nodded curtly to Ser Tyland, signalling the conversation was over, though the Lannister lingered a moment too long for Aemond’s liking before finally bowing and stepping away. 

His good eye drifted across the festivities. Everyone was drunk at best, smiles too wide, laughter too hollow, and he was overcome with the sudden desire to leave it all behind. He glanced in his mother’s direction as he pushed his chair out, her brown eyes wide with curiosity and judgement perhaps. 

She had given him no other look since Rook’s Rest.

“I believe they’ve seen enough of me tonight,” Aemond said, his tone firm. “The realm will not crumble if its Regent retires an hour early.”

“Aemond–”

“Mother,” he interrupted, his voice low but final.

It was only in the hall where he felt he could finally breathe. Air flowed easily, no longer stifled by the pomp and proper of the evening he had just sought to leave. He opened the heavy door to their chambers and stepped inside. The fire had burned low and she was already in bed, lying on her side, her hair spilling over the pillow.

“You left early,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him.

Her eyes opened slowly, and a small smile curved her lips. “And yet you followed.”

As he reached the bed, she shifted to sit up, the blanket pooling around her waist. “I thought you’d stay longer. Your mother will have words, I’m sure.”

“She always does,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Her gaze dropped for a moment, her fingers grazing her stomach in that way that had haunted him all evening. “No,” she said softly. “Just…tired.”

He hummed, “when will the maesters give their opinion?”

She looked up at him then, her expression caught somewhere between apprehension and hope. “They said it would be unwise to speculate for a few more weeks,” she replied. “But I am aware patience is not your strong suit, is it?”

He smirked faintly. “It is not.”

“You’ve waited for so much, Aemond,” she said softly, her voice warm and soothing, eyes glancing up at the conqueror’s crown sat atop his head. “A little longer won’t harm you.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, crawling over the bed towards her delicate form, pressing his face to her stomach with his hands on her hips, “spare me, dear wife. Have the maesters forbade coupling? I do not think I can wait.”

Her fingers threaded through his hair as she let out a soft laugh. “No,” she said, “but we must be careful. They warned against anything too…strenuous. Until we know for certain.”

“I am no beast,” he muffled against her shift, bunching it up as if desperate to touch her flesh, “I know restraint.”

“I seem to recall differently,” she countered with a teasing lilt.

With a hand to his chest, she pushes him back, enough to be able to straddle his lap as he sits with his back against the bed frame. For a moment his pupil widened slightly and she relished in the warm pride that spread through her at his reaction. 

She wasted no time. Unlacing his breeches was the simple part, but in this position, face to face, it was novel and intimate, more than usual. It was always Aemond on top, commanding her body to his. She wasn't sure how her husband was likely to cope with the change.

His breath hitched, eye closing as she pulled his cock free and worked him to full hardness, her slight palm massaging the ruddy tip, knowing what he liked. He was surely about to speak before she rose her hips, and the tip of him kissed her waiting slit, and slowly, slowly took her husband to the hilt.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, her hands braced against his chest as she guided them both into a steady rhythm. Aemond’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he resisted the urge to take control. He let her lead, his lips parting as a low groan escaped him.

“Ābrazȳrys” his voice caught, his eye blazing as he gazed up at her. “You are perfection.”

She leaned forward, her fingers threading through his silver hair, and pressed her lips to his. The dark crown brushed her fingertips, and in her annoyed breath, she slipped it from his head onto the bed. An action only the wife of the Prince Regent in this intimate moment would ever get away with.

Their breaths mingled, their shared movements growing more heated, more desperate. It felt good to roll her hips against him, each slide home was easy, aided by her unending desire to please him. But soon, she began to slow, the strain in her thighs becoming too much.

Her brows furrowed, her rhythm faltering as she let out a shaky breath. “Aemond.”

He must have felt the shake, as he was already moving her off his lap, “enough. Allow me.”

He guided her off him carefully, laying her down on her side before helping her onto her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, and for a moment, uncertainty flickered across her face.

Her cheeks burned as he pulled the shift over her backside, pulling her legs apart so he might see the wetness that glazed her womanhood. She felt exposed and utterly at his mercy in such a compromising position.

Not to mention, this was uncharted territory.

“We’ve never…” she began, her voice trailing off.

Aemond smirked, his fingers trailing down her spine. “No,” he murmured, his tone low, “but we will now.”

He positioned himself behind her, and watched with curiosity and admiration, as for from this angle, he was able to watch himself disappear inside, swallowed by her silky walls. She gasped in turn, this was deeper than she had ever felt him, with her spine curved and backside held against him. Her fingers clutched the sheets as his pace began slow enough, before his restraint began to ebb away.

“Alright?” he rasped, leaning forward to press kisses along her shoulder, his voice rough with both pleasure and concern.

Her hips instinctively pushed back, “don't stop…”

Her approval shocked him, but ignited his confidence all the same as he began to push into her with renewed vigour. She was surprised at how much she liked it, the way he fit against her, the way his hands held her so firmly. It felt raw, intimate, and utterly consuming.

His hands slid up to her waist as he felt her peak quiver through her body, her walls spasming around him and in the force of it, her arms gave out and she pressed her front to the sheets. She swore she felt the palm of his hand on her lower stomach, stroking lovingly as he reached his, pushing hot, pearly ropes of his release so much inside her, that she felt it dribble down her thigh.

Aemond helped her shift onto her side, gathering her into his arms as they both caught their breath. His hand instinctively returned to her stomach, his thumb brushing over the soft skin in slow, soothing circles.

“You will let me know once the maesters give their opinion, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied, leaning into him. “But tonight, you are Prince Regent. Let us celebrate that.”

Aemond shook his head, his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his wife, who had managed to calm the storm in him more times than he cared to admit.

“Tonight, I am your husband. Nothing else matters.”

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[whosmariaaa]

— part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 !

— cw :: suggestive, murder, violence, attempted roofie

college! sukuna was not planning on giving up on you any time soon, no matter how upset you were. to put it simply, he was obsessed. checking your socials all the time, still trying to reach out every single day.

no girl had ever gotten under his skin like this. no one had ever made him feel like this. he didn’t even know he was capable of feeling like this about someone. and sukuna would be damned if he let you go now.

though it barely seemed to be working, because you weren’t falling for it. didn’t exactly stop him, as you would think, but gojo and toji decided to help him out for once.

they were in the lockers after basketball training, gojo and toji yapping about one of the cheerleaders. sukuna wasn’t listening. he was thinking about you, of course. how the hell could he not get you off his mind? did you put a spell on him or something?

then, gojo sat down next to him. “yo, sukuna. toji and i were thinking,” he started.

“shocking. didn’t think you two fucking idiots were even capable of that,” he sneered. gojo’s eye twitched, but he continued nonetheless.

“it’s kind of sad to see you still chasing y/n even after all that shit went down, and you’re kind of pathetic about it too,” gojo told him.

“kind of? you’re really fucking pathetic about it. seriously man, i’m pretty sure you’ve killed people before, and you’re all soft hearted for a girl who hasn’t shown you a speck of attention,” toji criticized.

feeling irritation rise, sukuna was about to snap back, but gojo quickly interrupted, “what toji’s trying to say, is that we want to help you. you’re our best friend for a reason,” he explained.

“why don’t you try to shit you used to pull with other girls? pretend like you don’t care, and they come running back, always works, right?” gojo added, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

sukuna scowled, “you two know how i feel about y/n. she isn’t just a quick fuck. and how the hell would that even work when she doesn’t even look my way?”

“yeah, we get it. but you should try it. because what you’re doing right now isn’t working for shit,” toji replied, sitting down next to gojo.

when sukuna went back to his dorm, he thought about it. maybe, it could work. maybe, it’d catch your attention. maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

so, plan in action, he stopped coming to you every single day. he practically was ignoring you now. he stopped talking to you altogether. stupid as it sounds, it was starting to piss you off. you had every right to ignore him. he in fact did not. was this perhaps a little petty? sure. did you care? no.

but, much to sukuna’s dismay, you let it rest. he had gotten on your nerves enough. he was finally leaving you alone, so you might as well take peace in it.

your not-so-secret admirer was however not taking peace in it, at all.

“damn, she’s still not crawling back?” toji noted, scratching his head when he saw how infuriated sukuna was with the entire situation.

“she’s just playing hard to get,” gojo replied, “she’ll be on her knees before you know it!”

honestly, sukuna would be on his knees for you a whole lot sooner than you would be for him. gojo and toji knew that too, but they were a little afraid of their friend breaking, so they were trying to keep their hopes high.

“no, she won’t. why the fuck did i fall for such a fucking bitch?” he scoffed.

“yeah, she is kind of bitch, though—” gojo laughed.

“don’t fucking talk about her like that,” sukuna warned firmly, grabbing gojo by the collar again.

“you literally said it first—”

“shut the fuck up.”

sukuna was again pried off gojo by toji, before he actually hurt him. though his friends finally stopped being asses about the entire situation, he still felt like losing his shit.

and that feeling continued when even the week after that, you didn’t seem to be losing sleep at all over his absence, while he definitely was over yours (you were actually still feeling petty he was ignoring you now, but you didn’t show it). it was ridiculous. why was he so infatuated with you? sukuna didn’t even know himself, and yet, he couldn’t bare to let you go. he was hooked.

he needed to get his mind off things. when toji invited him to a frat party, he immediately decided to go. last time he went was weeks ago, and he wanted to take his mind off things. what better way to do that than with alcohol, weed, and girls?

when he arrived at the party, gojo gave him a few shots to ease up. and sukuna immediately had his eyes on a girl, pretty, nice body. he just needed some more alchohol and weed to soothe the weird ache in his chest when he thought of other girls. girls that aren’t you.

though, that didn’t matter now. he took a few more shots, took a few blows of toji’s blunt, and went over to the girl. they talked for a bit, he was charming, and before they knew it, the girl was in his lap, making out with him while the music blared in their ears.

when she separated for some air, sukuna looked at her with his intense red eyes, then looked around his surroundings a bit. that’s when he saw you. you were chatting with some friends, but then your gazes met. neither of you were looking away, for a good 8 seconds.

“hey, c’mon babe, we can go upstairs to a room,” the girl whispered in his ear, dragging him back to reality. a scowl appeared on his face. he wasn’t thinking about sex, and definitely not with her.

which was strange, the old sukuna would’ve flashed her his signature grin and took her upstairs without a doubt. it seems you’ve genuinely tainted his mind. for the better or worse, he didn’t know.

he pushed her off his lap. “the fuck are you talking about?” he snarled. she gasped, catching herself barely as he went on his feet. he didn’t spare her a second glance as he went over to you, which is exactly when you two locked eye contact again.

“and what do you want?” you huffed impatiently, though the intense eye contact made you slightly nervous. huh? since when did sukuna make you nervous?

“why the hell are you here?” he demanded. you rolled your eyes, “and why does that concern you?”

he took a step closer, dangerously close as he hovered over you. “don’t play fucking games with me, y/n. i’m not in the mood. let me repeat myself, why the hell are you here?”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “because it’s my friends party? what’s your problem?” you responded.

“my problem is that you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, and i’m fucking sick of it. it was just a project, and you’re such a bitch about it,” he sneered.

“i had every right to be pissed about it, and you know that too. and i didn’t want to talk to you, because you’re an ass, but apparently you’re just stupid and can’t take a hint,” you snapped back, starting to feel annoyed again.

now you didn’t care about the unbroken eye contact, or your friends staring wordlessly, because this man was a champion at getting on your nerves.

“cry me a damn river. maybe you’re just a pissy bitch that can’t handle when life doesn’t go her way,” he scoffed.

you suppressed an offended gasp, but you definitely weren’t suppressing the slap you were about to give this man again. but, just when you were about to hit his cheek, sukuna caught your wrist, in a bruising grip too.

“don’t even fucking think about it. i’m not letting you get away with shit anymore, be glad i’m not breaking your wrist,” he warned. you were silently glaring at him, and he was glaring right back.

then, he dropped your wrist and walked off. “asshole…” you mumbled under your breath. seriously, what was his problem?

safe to say, both of you spend your night at the party away from each other. sukuna making out with several different girls, even around 2AM taking another upstairs, needing to think about something else.

you, however, spend your night with your friends, drinking a few shots, but not too much to get drunk or anything. you were trying not to think of his words, but damn they kind of hurt.

your friends eventually went back to their dorms. they asked you several times if you wanted to come too, but you knew that if there wasn’t any loud music, talking and drama surrounding you, you’d probably wallow in silence, so you refused and stayed. maybe you’d find some distraction, who knows?

and as if someone heard your thoughts, next to you suddenly sat a man with blue hair and pale skin.

“you look distressed,” he commented. was it really that obvious?

“nah, it’s nothing, really,” you smiled, shrugging it off. the guy smiled back, letting the topic rest.

“uh huh, y/n right?” he asked. “people know you’re off limits, because you’re apparently sukuna’s girl. but what i saw from earlier, that’s not so true, is it?”

your smile disappeared, and you rolled your eyes. “seriously? that’s what he’s been telling people? what a loser, honestly,” you grumbled. the guy chuckled.

“so it’s not wrong for me to assume you’re single?” he questioned. your eyes shot to him. maybe he was the distraction you were desperately needing.

“huh, no, not at all. what’s your name, then?” you queried.

he rested his chin in the palm of his hand, looking at you with a charming grin. “mahito, nice to meet you, y/n,” he greeted. you smiled at him. you did recognize his name. it gave you a suspicious feeling, but it was merely fleeting, so you shrugged it off.

you two talked for like an hour or so. mahito was a nice guy, but he did give you the creeps with what he was saying from time to time. but it was probably just the alcohol in your system, so you shrugged it off.

then, he eventually went off and got drinks for the both of you. you quickly checked your phone.

“hey babe, hope ur feeling better by now, lemme know how the parties going xxx” your friends text read. you smiled at the sweet message, and quickly texted back about the tea, telling about how you met a new guy.

then, a few seconds after you send press and shut your phone off, he sat down next to you again. the two of you continued talking, and you took a few sips of your drink. but as the minutes past by, suddenly you felt like things were spinning. you felt dizzy.

your heart sank.

with quick thinking, you got on your feet and excused yourself to the bathroom with a calm smile. you were anything but calm. you couldn’t think clearly. you went into the bathroom, locking the door.

had he put something in your drink? had he drugged you? did he attempt to roofie you? you were panicking. all of your friends had gone to their dorms, and they would never make it on time. you didn’t know a soul in this party, and everyone was either drunk or stoned. what the hell were you supposed to do? and when mahito was going to inevitably notice you were gone for too long… you were starting to hyperventilate.

your head was spinning like crazy, and you felt your throat close up.

sukuna wasn’t focusing on shit right now. he had a girl on his dick, but he still felt slightly off. but he forced himself to enjoy it nonetheless. that was until his phone rang. he hung up without looking at the name. it was probably gojo or toji trying to pester him. then, his phone went off again, and again.

“who the hell is that?” she asked, breathlessly but still irritated.

he didn’t even care to reply to her. when his phone went off once more, he let out an annoyed sigh and looked at the name. it was you. he felt his irritation rise.

but he did pick up after two rings. “what the fuck do you want, y/n? if it wasn’t clear already, don’t try shit right now,” he snapped angrily.

it was silent on the other end of the line. sukuna was tempted to hang up, until he heard a little sob. he suddenly felt a rush of confusion, and maybe even concern.

“where are you?” you sniffled quietly.

“still at the party,” he replied as he sat up. the girl, just as stoned and tipsy as him, looked at him confusion.

“please help me, sukuna. i don’t know what the fuck happened, but i— i was talking with this guy, mahito or something, and i think he put something in my drink,” you stuttered out. his breath hitched slightly at the implication, and then he felt his fists clench, a wave of anger hit him.

sure, you guys were fighting, or whatever it was, but that man was still head over heels, no matter how much he wanted to push it down. and he was going to beat this guy to death for ever thinking he could touch you.

sukuna had already pushed off two other girls for you before, might as welk make it three. the girl whined drunkly, but he couldn’t care less. he pulled on his boxer and pants, and quickly threw on a shirt.

“where the fuck are you?” he asked, his tone dangerously low as he left the room, not looking back at the girl.

“bathroom d— downstairs,” you stammered. things were going fuzzy, some parts of your vision even black. you could barely keep your eyes open. “please hurry,” you cried softly.

and that tone, that panicked, helpless tone set something off in him. he was downstairs in just a few seconds, roughly shoving aside anyone in his way. no one dared to say anything, because no one had ever seen sukuna this angry before. people around fell into a tense silence, wondering what the hell happened.

as soon as he saw the bathroom door, he went to open it. and when it didn’t budge, he slammed his fist into the wooden door without a doubt, and turned the lock from the inside. his fist was covered with his blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

then sukuna saw you, on the floor, barely conscious. you were trembling, big tears rolling across your cheeks. it was so unlike you. you were always so fierce, and just then, he decided that he loathed seeing you cry.

he grabbed you, an arm around your waist. “it’s okay, baby, i’m here. no one’s fucking touching you,” sukuna reassured. you felt… safe in his arms, as much as you hated to admit it.

“i still fucking hate you, don’t get me wrong,” you mumbled, though your voice cracked slightly.

“uh huh, sure thing, baby,” he replied. but then, everything went black. sukuna had made it on time, but he felt a strange ache in his heart thinking about what if he hadn’t. he picked you up, weirdly gently for his doing, and went to the other side of the house, where he knew toji and gojo were at.

“yo, sukuna, we heard you finally had sex with a girl aga— is that y/n?” gojo questioned, flabbergasted. toji immediately turned his head.

“what the hell happened?” toji asked, immediately stepping over.

“some fucking idiot roofied her. take her to my car,” he ordered, putting you in toji’s arms. but gojo and toji were too slow for his liking.

“i’ll shoot both of you in the fucking head if you don’t get her out of here in two seconds,” sukuna said in a tone that told them he wasn’t playing around.

“chill out, man,” toji replied, though he was already on the move. sukuna had threatened them many times, but this was different. he was genuinely angry now, and he could get dangerous when he was.

“you’re going to kill that guy, aren’t you?” gojo asked, his usual teasing tone gone. he was dead serious. sukuna’s silence told him all he needed to know. gojo nodded and went after toji.

as soon as they were out of the frat house, he turned on his heel and approached the first person he saw.

“where’s mahito?” he asked. everyone knew the guy, everyone but apparently you. he was a real creep on campus. he’d never roofie anyone before, but honestly, no one’d put it past him.

“uh, in the bathroom. the same bathroom of which you kicked my door down, by the way, you’re paying for that—” the guy started, but sukuna’s menacing stare shut him up real quickly.

and just like he said, there mahito was. in the bathroom where you said you were going a while back, he looked around in confusion, oblivious to the storm behind him.

just when he was about to turn around, his head smashed into the stone-tiled wall three times, the white tiles now colored red.

“you fucking dumbass,” mahito heard in his ear as he was turned around, his back now slammed against the wall. a strong hand on his throat keeping him there.

“well, well, well, if it isn’t sukuna,” mahito taunted playfully, as if he didn’t have blood dripping down from his forehead. “was starting to wonder when you’d start looking for your little y/n,” he added.

“say her name again, i fucking dare you,” he snarled. mahito knew better than that.

“i’m just saying, i could’ve had a great time with her, until you had to go and ruin things,” mahito teased, flashing him a sickening smile. then a harsh left hook to his face shut him up, sending even more splatters of blood to the wall.

“let’s see if you can talk this tough when we’re outside,” sukuna replied, his tone scarily even. just like that, he dragged mahito outside, not like anyone was watching anyways because everyone went back to partying.

sukuna beat him up till he was bloody and bruised, and even then he didn’t stop. it was a gory sight, one that would’ve made anyone sick. he didn’t care, even as mahito’s face was crooked from amount of punches he had taken. mahito couldn’t even scream or beg for his life anymore, even though he was in excruciating pain. he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

he had no mercy. his hands were painted red from mahito’s blood, he punched until there was practically nothing to punch anymore. and then, nothing. he wasn’t breathing anymore, no pulse.

sukuna had indeed killed people before, he wasn’t ashamed of it. toji and gojo had done so too, none of them had been caught before. none of the other murders were necessary, just guys who pissed them off. but mahito?

he crossed a line thinking he could hurt you. no matter how much you hated him, sukuna was scarily attached to you ever since that day you called him out. so much so that he would apparently kill for you. romantic, no?

as he stared at mahito’s mangled face, he suddenly got a call from gojo. “what?” sukuna grumbled.

“y/n woke up a few minutes ago, she’s asking for you, well, more like demanding,” gojo replied. you were asking for him? that shamefully made his heart skip a beat.

“you kill the guy yet?” toji asked.

“yeah, we’re in the alleyway. can you guys clean this shit up and take him with your car? i’ll be with y/n in a second,” he proposed. they agreed, and before he knew it he was in his car with you in the passenger’s seat.

you were shaken up, confused, but you felt oddly safe. sukuna was quiet too, giving you time to process as he drived you to the dorms. you decided to not comment on his bloodied hands for your own sake.

and eventually, you found yourself in his dorm. you took a shower, and he gave you his hoodie to sleep in. he even gave you food and water.

all that frustration you felt for sukuna this past weeks, suddenly just disappeared. he had saved you, maybe even saved your life, and now he’s treating you so well.

sure, you were still upset about you failing your class, but you could finally forgive him for all that. honestly, if you told yourself a week ago that you forgave him, you wouldn’t possibly believe yourself.

and you would also never believe yourself if you said that you were now laying in sukuna’s bed, wrapped in his arms.

“how do you feel, baby?” he asked softly, a tone you’d never think he’d be able to use.

“could be better,” you murmured quietly. a silence fell over you two, it wasn’t uncomfortable. you didn’t feel uncomfortable either. who would’ve thought?

you looked up slightly at him, meeting his eyes. “thank you for all that,” you told him, smiling lightly. “i think i can perhaps, maybe forgive you now for that 49%.”

sukuna just slightly furrowed his eyebrows, before grabbing your chin and pulling you into a kiss. you leaned into it, not pushing him away.

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. “no one’s ever going to fucking hurt you again, i’m serious, you got that?” he promised.

“yeah. sounds pretty serious to me,” you replied, not being same to hide your smile. he just huffed, and kissed you again. a few hours later, you fell asleep in his arms.

now, college boyfriend! sukuna was the happiest man alive. he still dominated the basketball court, still got plenty good grades, had his best friends gojo and toji. and the one thing he will forever love most and cherish in life, you, his girl. and with that, sukuna was ready to kill and die for you, always.

──★˙🍓̟!! expectations were high for me, so i think i delivered guys!! genuinely proud of this one. this is kinda crazy since it’s the last part, and again i can simply not express how thankful i am for all of you!!!! and i HAD to eventually let sukuna do something violent for once, because it’s sukuna ofc. and no, i do absolutely not, ever ever, condone violence or murder!!!!! love sukuna to death but if he was real you wouldn’t catch me in a 100 km radius from him🥀🥀

— taglist ! @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @seizecherry @xlilycoco @v1x3n @go-go-gadget-autism @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @paradisestarfishh @misticsilver @whosmarjj @aquariusscollection @satorushousewife @rwirxles @anonnieghost @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee @iminloveweveryone @poopooindamouf @phisen @ryomku @erintaro @clp-84 @mastermasterlist1p1 @katsukiseyebrows @iioveoldermen @happy2delivur @jup1tersuccubus @nxcxllxsevens @realalpacorn @kxgumi @crankyarchives @itsjustisa @junitries @kodzukensworld @desiretolive @bnbaochauuu @tomsxslvt @flwerie @bwlol7 @szuuyl @yourfavbabigirl @grignardsreagent @my-sin-my-soul-my-hell @nothankyew @yourangel04 🍓

[chithereader]

playing it cool / aaron hotchner

[credits to the owners of these photos!!]

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff!!!!!!

cw: sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, so much of aaron’s thoughts because we know that man thinks soo much more than he speaks!!

a/n: hiiii this is my third post so far and tbh i was so nervous to post the first two as that was my first time ever posting any of my writings anywhere!! but i’ve been getting so much more love on those than expected and i just really wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs <33 i was honestly only expecting less than 10 notes as a newbie and reaching up to 200 is so so so wonderful. and especially for the love of hotch i– ugh!!!!! i already love u all 

The team had worked a straight 5 weeks worth of cases prior, which had warranted Strauss to grant them all a mandatory 3-day rest. This simply meant that for 3 whole days there are no cases, no deadlines, and no new case files. They could come to the office at whatever time they’d like as long as they finished some reports at the end of the day. 

Aaron being Hotch the boss man still aimed to arrive at the office at a reasonable time– 7:30am. To be fair, this is an hour and a half later than when he usually arrives at the office. And in his mind, the earlier he arrives, the more he can get done, and the more he gets done, the earlier he can come home. 

This is the only reason why he is up at 6:00am on a supposed rest day. He did expect that he’d struggle a bit more to drag himself out of bed, knowing you’d be keeping him hostage with limbs that wrap around him in ways he can’t begin to understand, but to his surprise, you weren’t there. 

Dragging his feet across the carpeted floor, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and white shirt fitting him oh-so-snugly, he tries to find you. He’s rubbing the sleep of his eyes as he peeks his head into your shared bathroom. No sign of you. 

He’s covering his mouth as he yawns when he quietly opens the door to Jack’s bedroom–still no sign of you. Remembering his son has been nursing a stomach bug since yesterday, he opened the door further to check on him. No fever. No chills. No sign of discomfort. 

When he’s sure Jack’s okay, he turns around to go back to find where you went. He even checked the backyard as he passed by a window to see if you’re at your favorite swing reading, that perhaps you just woke up early and wanted to feel the morning sun because you claimed it lightens you. 

He smiles a little to himself as he treads downstairs, finally hearing your soft murmurs as you spoke with someone presumably over the phone. As he neared the kitchen he realized that the person on the line was your colleague and friend Tilly, and that she was on speaker phone making it easy to listen in. 

He slows down his steps as he nears the landing and pauses when he gets behind a wall near the kitchen. He doesn’t know what came over him. He doesn’t usually sneak around to eavesdrop, nor did he ever feel the need to especially when it came to you. You tell him everything, prompted and unprompted. 

But perhaps it was the haze of the morning or the curiosity of what could possibly get you out of bed this early when you’re usually the one snoozing away as he’s getting ready for work– he stayed quiet behind that wall and made it his mission to understand the conversation. 

He clears his mind and strains his ear, going as far as making his breaths slow and far apart. 

He hears Tilly giggling, “Don’t get me wrong, Adam from Finance is really cute but.. isn’t he just a little too serious? He’s always got that frown going on.” 

You sigh a little loudly, obvious that it’s a sigh to humor and not of exasperation, “Tilly, you know I love you, but every day you complain about being single. And every other day there’s a decent guy who you always always find that one flaw in that just crosses them off for you forever.” Tilly lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a gasp. 

“That is so not tr–” “Oh, Hugh’s just too clean. And Frederick’s too hard, it’s like- scary. Yes, veiny hands are hot but there’s veiny and too veiny, and Jason was just a double too veiny.” 

Aaron momentarily pauses his listening and looks down at his hands, suddenly conscious where he fit in that category. Factoring in his age, his work, and the action he gets from the field– these all show. He tried thinking of a time you could’ve shown any dislike or disgust towards his hands but all he could think of was that one night when he cupped your face and you leaned towards it more, turning slightly to take his thumb into your mou–

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he hears Tilly asking about you leaving, “What time are you getting to the office by the way? I just don’t want to get there without you. Adam might ask about that second date and I just need you as my bluff, my beautiful girl.” He makes a mental note to message Jessica before you both get ready for work. 

“Riiiight. Remind me how many guys have I scared off for you now? And how many times have I helped you scare them off? Besides, I can’t go today and I’ve already told Bobby I’m on leave.” 

In a slight surprise and panic Tilly whines, “What?! Why? You’re such a traitor. You know damn well I get so bored without you.” Aaron didn’t even know you were planning on staying home. You hadn’t mentioned anything about it last night which made him even more curious what made you decide. 

He hears your soft laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll manage a day without me. I mean you have to– my son caught a stomach bug yesterday so I just want to make sure he’ll recover completely.” 

Aaron can hear Tilly responding, something about soup and warm baths, but his heart has just stopped so he’s not really processing any new words at the moment. 

My son. My son. My son. My son caught a stomach bug. 

He feels lightheaded. His heart kickstarts again, his pulse is ringing in his ear. He can feel his chest pounding to his heart’s beat. The words that rolled off your lips so effortlessly, so mindlessly, echoes in his head. 

Jack may be young but he is smart. So so smart beyond his years. And he has grown to understand what had happened to his mom Haley, but not once has he– and even you allowed Jack to forget who Haley is and how much she loves him. 

Images of you joining in their traditions of honoring and remembering Haley plays in his head in flashes. You helping Jack arrange a bouquet for Haley’s death anniversary. You helping Jack make a card for her birthday. You mixing the paint to get the right shades as Jack paints a portrait of Haley for his Mothers’ Day homework. 

Aaron had told you everything there was to know about Haley and you’ve listened. He knows you adore her. You adore her for the same reasons he adored her. You understood the space Haley had in his life and in Jack’s life, and not once were you ever jealous, immature, or selfish about it. Even though he would’ve completely understood if you were. 

You were nothing but supportive, and understanding, and loving. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when you deserved better. Admittedly, there was a point in time when he struggled with coming to terms with falling in love– with you nonetheless. You’re young, ambitious, brilliant, talented, insanely beautiful, and unfairly kind. 

When the two of you had met, this was his profile: divorced with a kid, recovering from trauma that stemmed from being stabbed multiple times in his own home, emotionally unavailable, annoyingly serious and fatally dull– which really makes him wonder what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and even more so what made you stay even when he was bafflingly dense about how you felt about him.  

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, like a deer caught in headlights. Replaying your words and his memories over and over again, slowly coming to the conclusion that you’re absolutely perfect and he’s absolutely gone for you. 

Slowly coming to his senses, Aaron becomes more aware of the silence. The call must have ended while he was having realizations about things. He rounds the corner silently, getting a feel of where you’re facing. Luckily he guesses right, that you’re facing away from him. 

You were rummaging through the fridge– the vegetable drawer if he had to guess, judging by how much you’re slouching and reaching, and the sound of the glass containers you use to prolong their freshness. 

He quickly surveys the scene- your phone is on the counter, beside it is a chopping board with carrots and onions, a carton of chicken broth, Jack’s favorite dinosaur-shaped pasta, and chocolate milk– the one drink you both know can make Jack feel instantly better, happier. 

His heart pinches again. You got up early to make sure Jack had something to eat for breakfast in time for his medicine. You got up early even though you aren’t planning on going to work. You aren’t going to work because you want to stay with Jack. You called Jack your son. 

With so many things running in his head, he stands quietly observing you finding god knows whatever vegetable. Maybe it's the intensity of his stare or the volume of his thoughts, or maybe he started to breathe loudly– but suddenly you knew he was there. He could tell. 

You slowly straightened your back from when you were leaning. Your hands have stopped rummaging through the drawer, and he could see the goosebumps on your legs and shoulders from the way the sunlight hits you through the kitchen window. 

You turn around slowly, as if you were just caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, “I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” grimacing as if it was a crime to be hot and cute and gut-wrenchingly-sweet. 

“No.” His voice is groggy. Deep and rough given that he just woke up minutes ago and hasn’t really used it since. Looking at you through studying eyes, he clears his throat “Uhm, I woke up to get ready for work and you weren’t there.” 

Aaron suddenly feels a little cold. The thin material of his shirt and pajamas doing little to contain what warmth he has left in his body. Or maybe it’s you, maybe his body has sensed that you’re near and is now craving your warmth, making him feel a magnified amount of its absence.

“Oh.. I’m sorry I just wanted to get ahead of cooking so Jack can have soup before he takes his medicine at 8 and since I was also planning to do some work though I’m on leave, it just made sense to get an early start…” You slow your words, noticing how Hotch is studying you tenfold in the moment, as if you were an apparition, “Are you okay? Did you want soup too? I can pack you some before you go?”

His silence makes you panic a little. You can’t really tell if he’s upset about something or if he’s sleepwalking, “Or you can eat here. I mean– you live here, of course you can eat here. I mean like instead of bringing it to the office– not that if you eat here, you can’t bring some anymore.” 

The longer he stays silent, adoring you, the more you scramble to fill the silence, “I’m just– you know you can do whatever you want. You can eat here, there, anywhere. Unless you don’t want soup. I mean we still have leftover steak, I cou–” 

You pause your rambling because you can see a smile starting to form on his face. A real, big smile. Laugh lines and dimples and all, which makes you smile. Realizing how stupid you were sounding and how funny the situation was becoming, you started giggling.

And just as you think he’s about to join the laughter to make fun of you, his smile softens and he says, “Marry me.” 

part 2 here!!!!!

[avatarchic]

TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white. 

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes. 

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him. 

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret. 

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you. 

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is. 

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child.  “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory. 

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements. 

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss. 

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently. 

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f’me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.” 

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern. 

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. 

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum. 

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest. 

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.” 

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you. 

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You’re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you. 

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[lvmimis]

“I just think you’d be happy with us,” Luffy insists for the fifth time that week, and exhausted, you reach over your shoulder, where he’s leaned over, practically resting his chin on your shoulder, and you grip his face, squishing his cheeks. 

He pouts, but doesn’t break free, and you turn to look at him, giving him a frown. Your eyes lock for a few moments as you challenge him to keep speaking, and he, never intimidated by you even for a moment, even when you are trying, continues talking.

“Just think about it more?”

You’ve thought about it, many times in fact, and every time he returns to this neck of the woods since you met just several months ago, a similar conversation arises. The naivete in the idea of you leaving behind everything you’ve built for this pirate you knew nothing about a year ago amazes you, but Luffy has always had such a confidence and almost innocent directness to the way he communicates his desires that you find it harder and harder to not question your own resistance each time. 

This time he’s particularly persistent, possibly to the point of being annoying. You apply a little bit more pressure to the grip you have on his face until his lips jut out and he whines.

“Hey, that hurts you know!” 

You let go, even if you know you could never truly hurt him, and sigh. 

“You know, asking more times won’t change my answer,” you remind him as he makes a show of stretching his face back to normal, then watches you stack a pile of books together and store them away into a cabinet. He’s keeping you company in your workroom as you finish up the last of your notes before leaving the clinic for the day. These days he no longer uses your friendship with Nami as a pretense to come and see you, and no one is sick - instead he strides in like he’s important to you in his own right, and you hate that he’s right about that. 

You wonder who even lets him in these days.

“What would it take aside from asking?”

You look at him again, tilting your head slightly. 

“To change my mind?” you clarify. 

Luffy nods. You’ve started walking, and he follows closely behind, your sweet shadow as you lock up the room and place the key in your pocket, hands behind his head as he accompanies you down the street to your favorite restaurant. 

Since the last time Luffy came to your city, a month has passed, and for the first time, you have admitted to yourself that you genuinely missed him - seeing his smile in an almost empty cup of coffee, or hearing his hearty laugh in a group of friends huddled at a bar, thoughts drifting to what it must be like for him on the sea whenever you have an idle moment.

Always joyous and free, sea salt and sunshine sinking deep into his skin.

Being by his side sounds more enticing every time he brings it up, but he doesn’t need to know that. In fact, perhaps he should think the opposite, you decide.

You stop suddenly in your tracks, and he stops too, watching you carefully as you make your first demand of him. 

“Bring me a pearl and I’ll think about it,” you start. Luffy looks confused for a second, eyebrows furrowed, and crosses one arm over his chest, his other hand tapping his chin. 

“I mean we could go to a jewelry shop right now but I don’t see why-”

Your look into his own eyes is fiery, interrupting him firmly. “As big as my head. The kind you’d only find hundreds of kilometers deep in the Calm Belt.”

The words are meant to be delivered neutrally, but their content is laden with irrationality.

You pause, waiting for his protest, but Luffy doesn’t complain. Instead he’s listening intently, dark eyes just as focused on yours, on the drivel coming from your lips and perhaps on deciphering the unspoken code beneath it.

Code that isn’t I don’t want to go with you, but Why would you go through the trouble for someone as bothersome like me?

Perhaps he picks up on the subtext a bit, too smoothly. “Is that all you want?” he asks, finally.

You inhale sharply, and resume your walk.

“Yes. Unless you bring me one of those, I don’t want to talk about ever leaving with you again, Luffy. Don’t even come back to see me.”

Unfazed, Luffy smiles even though you’ve given him a nigh impossible task - in fact, you’re not sure these giant clams exist at all, and it would be a fool’s errand to search for one, but he laughs. 

“Deal.”

Leaving the matter as it is, you resume your walk, and at some point Luffy must have taken your hand, because by the time you’ve made it to where you’ll have dinner together (and invariably he’ll clean out your wages for the entire week just in meat), your fingers are interlocked as though they’ve belonged linked the entire time. 

—

Luffy leaves the next day, leaving a note that is short and sweet on your kitchen table.

Be back soon.

You figure you’ve possibly seen the last of him in a while and your stomach turns gently at the thought.

—

Three days pass and because your friend Nami hasn’t yelled your ear off by transponder snail, you figure Luffy has dropped the entire ordeal and not wasted his crew’s time by going off track to do something absolutely stupid at your request. 

Another three pass and you worry he is stupid enough to try to do it despite being hated by the sea, and you resist the urge to call it off yourself. 

But you have to trust that he could understand how you felt. 

As impossible as it is for him to do this for you, it’s impossible for you to leave your earthbound life.

—

But ‘impossible’ sits on your nightstand that night.

A perfectly round pearl, as big as your head (bigger even if you were to hold it up and compare the object in a mirror)and polished to an impeccable shine, waits for you, with another note.

You ran out of food. Be back in a moment.

When Luffy comes back, large bags of groceries in hand to restock your empty fridge (even though he’d end up cleaning it out himself that night), he finds you in quiet tears.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the ground, allowing his arms to wrap carefully and gently around your body until you’ve leaned into him fully, your sniffles muffled as you let your face hide pressed against his forearms.

You don’t ask how he did it because the act itself is enough, and he doesn’t speak until you open your mouth first -

- to say “Hi, I missed you,” even if you’re overwhelmed. 

Luffy hums in assent, and lets his face nuzzle into your hair further, the simple act asking you again, please come with me without him needing to say it out loud, even if the pearl he’s moved heaven and earth to bring to your doorstep allows him to.

To which your heart, as though you were being proposed to with this very act, finally says yes.