#no im actually gonna tag this so they see it
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
oatmealwrites · 1 day ago
Text
NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Gojo Satoru x F! Reader
Is it casual now?
Tumblr media
Oncology student! Frat President! Fwb Satoru x Reader
holiday hoes masterlist here
regular masterlist here
Synopsis: Holiday season is always referred to as 'cuffing season' though he never really saw the point. Why want a real relationship when your casual affair offers everything he wants... or so he thought. Matching sweaters, gift wrapping, and sipping hot cocoa definitely isn't casual.. but it's all he wants for Christmas this year.
Tags: fwb, friends to lovers, Jealous! gojo, car sex, oral (m and f receiving), semi-public sex, helpless pinning on both sides, domestic fluff, shoko & utahime your roommates, wingman suguru, mentions of alcohol, some angst, satoru is bad communicator, making out, hickies, grinding, erection, face riding, missionary, p in v, creampie, aftercare, established relationship, fluff ending, 18+, MDNI
Word count: 11.5k (im cooking again)
a/n: sorry this took wayy to long, it's been a hectic week and a half as I get back to campus. BUT, my writing schedule should finally be stable! enjoy~
~~~~~~~
The windows of the white Mercedes have been fogged over for the past 10 minutes, and there were occasional shakes of the vehicle when you both shimmied into the backseat. The radio plays a mix of top 40 and residual holiday music while a cold winter wind howls outside. People scurry around the parking lot to enter the large shopping mall while others shuffle into their cars to avoid the harsh weather; everyone oblivious to what was happening in this vehicle. 
“Fuck… just like that princess…”
With your lips around his cock and globs of saliva dripping from your mouth, Satoru sits partially beneath you with his thighs splayed apart. Baggy jeans tugged down to his mid thigh and the fabric of his sweatshirt bunched up in his fist for a better view, the sight beneath him is familiar and heavenly. 
Taking the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hand, your head bobs up and down with your tongue laying flat. Sweet pre-cum coats your tastebuds and you can feel the swollen veins that litter his dick throb with increased blood flow. White strands of pubic hair don’t tickle your face, but surround his base; Satoru always makes sure to trim before the two of you hang out.
Sucking him off in the backseat of his car wasn’t the goal of meeting up with him on this chilly afternoon, though it wasn’t particularly surprising. A mutual agreement formed between the both of you, close friends who just happened to be a bit closer than most. 
“Nnfghh…s-shit…gonna fucking cum soon…”
Satoru winces in pleasure and his hips jerk forward to get just a bit more of his length into your mouth. Jaw beginning to ache from keeping it open and lips swollen from his abuse, your hands move to cup his heavy balls and massage them the way he always likes. A few more whimpers and curses leave his lips and Satoru moves to take another chunk of your hair away from your face and into a messy ponytail. 
“Ca–Can I come inside?”
You consider it for a moment, recognizing you had actually remembered to bring your lip gloss this time, and not minding to reapply after you swallow. There’s no verbal communication needed, you bring your mouth to his flushed tip and lick it a few times in approval. 
That’s all Satoru needs to see, bucking hips forward and guiding your head to jerk off his tip in a faster motion before furrowing his brows in pleasure. Hot ropes of semen pour from his cock and into your mouth; the salty and thick liquid a taste you’ve had several times before. 
Satoru fucks himself through his orgasm by gently guiding your head, before slipping out from your lips with a pathetic wince. Despite panting heavily with a mind half-drunk in pleasure, a warm hand cups your cheek while his thumb wipes away any cum that had missed your mouth.
You stay hovering over his softening erection and thickly swallow the semen on your tongue before sitting upright and bringing a hand through your unruly hair. Following the routine, Satoru slips himself back into his boxers and jeans before leaning up to the front console and passing you your water bottle.
The cool liquid washes any taste down your throat, and you swish the water in your mouth a few times before swallowing with a sigh. Silently, Satoru fishes his fallen sunglasses from the car floor and opens his cell phone camera to place them over his eyes and fix his own hair.  
“What time is it?” you ask, while wiping your lips with the back of your hand and pulling out your lipgloss from your jeans pocket. 
“Mmmm, almost 3:15.” Satoru slides his phone into his back pocket and confirms the keys and wallet are still in his sweatshirt pouch. “We should head inside.”
You run one more hand through your hair before slipping on your winter coat and opening the backseat car door. Wind pushes it open harder than you anticipate, and you dive out to catch it before it bangs into the very expensive car parked way too close to yours.
“Geez, tryna scratch my car?”
Satoru laughs while waiting for you to shut the door so he can lock it and walk alongside you to the mall entrance. Pulling your arms into yourself, the cool temperature makes your skin raw and pink.
“I was trying to not dent your door, idiot.”
“Hmm?” Satoru zips his parka up to his chin and smiles sheepishly at you. “That’s good. I was worried you thought I wouldn’t reciprocate and decided to take it out on me.”
You roll your eyes and increase your speed; Satoru’s step length is so long it doesn’t bother him to keep up at all. A few families and couples pass as they walk to their cars, huddled close together to stay warm from the winter wind.
Satoru leans in with a wolfish grin now splayed on his lips. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”
You nudge him in the ribs and keep your head down to avoid the blistering gust that pushes your hair back. The man at your side laughs to himself, though you both know he means it. You and Satoru were in an arranged, casual, platonic, friends with benefits agreement; that doesn’t mean he ever leaves you unsatisfied though. Anytime you made him cum, he made sure to repay the favor with his tongue, fingers, or cock within 24 hours. 
“What are you even looking to buy here anyways? I thought you ordered your Secret Santa gift online.”
Satoru steps ahead of you to open the heavy glass entrance doors and pivots to let you enter before matching to walk beside you once more.
“I was going to, but all the delivery options would be too late.”
You hum in thought and head towards the mall directory to survey the stores; the shopping complex isn’t overwhelming as most people had already done their shopping before the holidays. Tracing the floorplan with your finger, you linger on floor 2 marked as the ‘home and appliance’ section.
Satoru sways next to you, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Who do you have anyways?”
“Nanami.”
Tapping on ‘William and Sonoma’, you follow Satoru’s gaze which stares at ‘Best Buy’.
“You have Inumaki, right?”
“Yep.”
You survey the time once more before starting towards the escalator. “Let’s hit your store first since it’s on the way. If we finish early, I wanna do some shopping.”
Satoru steps on the moving stair beneath you, but doesn’t need to look up to meet your gaze. “Aren’t we already shopping?”
“No, like shopping for me.”
He shrugs and the frame of his circular sunglasses slides down his nose slightly before a long index finger pushes them back up. The mall is still decorated for the holidays; seasonal music plays in the background while ornate garland sparkles with LEDs and hangs from every banister. 
“What were you thinking of buying for Inumaki anyways?”
“Well, Yuji always complains about his shitty microphone when they game,” Satoru says while following you off the escalator and into the electronics store entrance. “I figured a new mic would be easy.”
It’s actually a thoughtful gift idea; which comes as a bigger surprise than you expected. Sure, you and Satoru are close friends, but you always chalked him up to being the kind of guy who just hands you a gift card because he couldn’t figure out what you wanted. Though to be fair, you and him never really exchanged physical gifts; the both of you settled into your fwb agreement early on and only traded sexual favors and fantasies. 
“Alright then.” You look up at the signs hanging from the ceiling for a moment. “Audio equipment is aisle 7.”
Walking side by side, the two of you scan the racks of microphones for ones compatible with his PC and settle between two options. Satoru grabs both boxes and tilts his head between the two.
You glance between them. “The one on your left is way over budget. Isn’t the max like, $25?”
“Yea, but-” He holds up the expensive option. “But this one is in the color he likes.”
You raise an eyebrow but don’t argue; knowing him well enough to understand budget restrictions were merely suggestions in his eyes. Satoru turns the box around and smiles when he notices there’s no obvious price tag that would make Inumaki feel bad upon receiving such a nice gift and turns for the checkouts.
“Alright, that’s one down. Where to next?”
Watching Satoru tap the gaudy metallic black credit card on the payment terminal, he shoots a wink to the cashier and smoothly slides to resume his place at your side.
“I’m thinking of checking out William and Sonoma?”
Your friend hums in agreement and follows closely at your side while you peruse the aisles of the baking and cooking equipment. Every price tag you turn over makes you wince, and Satoru isn’t particularly helpful as he skims through every cookbook he passes.
“Think you can make this one? Kikufuku sounds kinda hard–what’s that?”
Satoru cuts himself off and pads over to where you stand hovering over a very nice and very expensive Le Creset.
“It’s a Dutch oven; you can make a lot of things like bread,” you say, voice falling at the number of zeroes on the tag.
What you had figured out from your time with the man is that Nanami was an all around foodie with a particular favoritism for baked goods. Looking back, you definitely should've double checked the prices online before walking in; each one carries a price tag way out of the Secret Santa limit and your personal budget.
“$360? That’s not too bad.” Satoru flicks the price tag out of his fingers and lifts the lid of the turquoise Dutch oven. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do with it… but Nanami would probably be into it.”
“It’s a gift for him, not you, idiot.” You sigh and run your fingers down the side of the glossy finish.
Satoru doesn’t mind the nickname and tilts his head before looking around the store and noticing an array of red sale signs. Silently he takes your hand and dejectedly you obey and follow him to the far back corner of the building.
“Just buy a broken one and fix it. Good as new.”
You raise an eyebrow before examining the clearance racks ahead of you; Satoru is already reaching on the higher shelf to pull down a pale yellow Dutch oven that was missing a handle. Same brand, though slightly smaller. He pops the lid off to reveal the unattached handle that simply needs some sanding and super glue.
“Woa… you’re a genius.”
“Yea, well, it’s no mystery why I'm at the top of the oncology department.”
“Hm? Suguru told me that you definitely bottom.”
Satoru scoffs and shoves your shoulder, murmuring about how you of all people should know how well he tops you. You pay no mind to his complaints; turning the ceramic instrument over and settling on the reduced price of $35.99 to be justifiable considering the budget.
The two of you head for the checkouts and return to the walkways of the mall, satisfied with your timing so far on the shopping trip. You lean against the glass railing and pull out your phone while Satoru mirrors your position and scrolls through a few messages.
“Can I come to your place after this?”
You hum absentmindedly and respond to the DM Shoko had sent you earlier. “Sure, why though?”
“Suguru is having Choso over for a board game and smoke sesh. Plus I don’t have any wrapping paper.”
You roll your eyes at his lack of preparation, but accept his self-invitation. Pulling up the roommate group chat between you, Shoko, and Utahime, your pulse stops at the most recent messages.
Sho(e)ko: He’s gonna be at the party @ y/n
Utahimeh: huh?? Who?? 
Sho(e)ko: that guy from the law dept. I think his name’s Higuroma?
Utahimeh: Higuruma. And he’s not part of greek life i thought?
Satoru waits for your response to his follow up question and finally looks up from his phone to see you immersed in yours. The lack of attention given makes him nudge your forearm down.
“Huh?”
The white haired man lowers his glasses to raise an eyebrow at you. “I was asking what other store you wanted to see. But–,” he makes a swipe at your phone but narrowly misses.
“–Hey!”
Now any other time Satoru would shrug and continue talking about whatever was on his mind. Any other time. It’s not rare for you to ignore to wave off his loud mouth, but seeing you so absorbed in something without letting him in on it was rare. 
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
You don’t reply, and instead slip your phone into your front pocket to avoid his advances. Satoru raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs in suspicion before turning his attention to the rest of the mall. “Alright… Now let’s finish this up. I hate crowded places.”
Without pressing further, you both make your way to a department store near the main entrance and you waste no time going through the after-holiday sale racks. Satoru lingers at the men’s cologne section before wandering back over to you and leaning against the metal clothing racks in boredom.
“Why are you shopping anyway? I’ve seen your closet…. There’s no room.”
You roll your eyes and keep dragging hangers down. “I have nothing to wear for the party.”
Satoru audibly groans at this and slinks further onto the rack; arching his back like a shrimp. With a couple more slides of the articles of clothing, you pause. Mistakenly placed on the woman’s racks was a clearance turquoise men’s cashmere sweater.
With wide eyes, you slide it off the the rack and hold it up to guess how well the size would fit.
“You’re gonna wear that to the party?”
“No.” You roll your eyes at him and hold the article up. “What do you think about this for Nanami?”
If Satoru was barely paying attention earlier, he sure was locked in right now. 
“Huh? But what about that other thing you bought? The… danish stove?”
“Dutch oven,” you correct before shrugging. “I dunno. I could always keep that and give him this. It’s like his signature color.”
Satoru eyes the sweater and then glances back at you for a moment; peeking out from under your coat was a knit turtleneck collar of nearly the same color. In the moments waiting for his answer, you don’t see the way his brain is working out a million different scenarios; all of which create an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.
“Nah, go with the oven. A sweater is too much.”
“Too much?” You spin it around and eye the price tag of $27, still out of budget, but closer to the goal. 
Satoru shrugs and looks off at the other racks. “Yea like vibe wise. Don’t we need to find something for you to wear before you shop for him?”
Blinking a few times, you slide the sweater back into its new home on the women’s clearance rack and sigh lightly; though not having to buy a new gift does help the stress on your wallet. Satoru watches you now slide through the racks while an indescribable feeling washes over him as you still keep glancing at the men’s sweater in consideration.
You’re still working it out in your brain and Satoru can read it all over your face. Suguru was up late last night listening to music and smoking with Shoko; the lack of sleep and overstimulation from such a busy place is how rationalizes the thoughts going through his head. 
“Let’s get matching ones. For the party.”
The hanger on the rack screeches to a halt as you look up at him with confusion knit in your brows.
“Huh?”
Satoru licks his lips and speaks a bit slower, “Matching sweaters. We should get some for the party, it’ll be hilarious.”
Raising an eyebrow at the man, you drink in the way his glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose slightly and reveal his pale blue eyes. The electricity in them leaves you momentarily speechless as his proposal slowly works its way through your brain.
“Why though?” You look around the clearance racks as if you’re really considering it. “We won’t even find a matching set here.”
Satoru doesn’t answer your first question and instead ducks his head to point out the holly red cardigan you were currently hovering over. “We’ll match colors then. Nice and easy.”
You blink and look down at the sweater you were just considering and chew the inside of your cheek; before you can ask again why he wanted to match, Satoru is already making a beeline for the men’s section. 
Shifting through hangers himself, he wastes no time pulling off a cashmere luxury-labeled sweater in the same bright red color. A light jog to catch up to him, Satoru takes the cardigan from your hands and throws it over his forearm with his own sweater before looking for the checkouts. 
******
The ride back to your apartment was as normal as it could be. The radio played top hits in the background while you and Satoru talked about whatever came to mind; gossip about the newest pledge Yuji and his brother(?) Todo, updates on the amount of subscribers on Inumaki’s twitch, and jokes about how Yuta still couldn’t beat Maki at any drinking game they played.
By the time you turn the key in the lock and are greeted by the sound of music playing on the tv and the chatter of your roommates, you’ve forgotten all about your stupid matching sweaters.
“Hey guys!” Utahime waves from her spot on the floor in front of the wrapping paper. “Back already?”
“Yep! Got our Secret Santa gifts~ so no peeking!”
You smile at her and kick off your winter boots before shimmying out of your coat and placing the brown shopping bags on the small kitchen table. Satoru follows suit and makes himself comfortable opening your pantry in search of something sweet.
“Oh, you’re here?” Shoko wanders out of her bedroom and directs her attention to the only man in the room.
“Ya, Choso is over to smoke with Suguru.”
She shrugs at the reason and joins him in the kitchen to fill a glass of water and eyes the bags on the counter before looking at you.
“What’d you get?”
You unwrap the scarf from around your neck and place it with your coat on the hooks. “Secret Santa gift, and a sweater for me.”
Shoko takes a sip of the water from her glass and peers into the bag; raising an eyebrow, she turns to you again.
This time, Satoru finally pulls out a small canister from the pantry and shoots her a grin. “Oh! We’re gonna be matching– it’ll be hilarious!”
You scoff while Shoko fishes out one of the sweaters from the bag and raises it slightly. “It’s not an ‘ugly sweater’ though… so why’s it funny–”
“Hot chocolate anyone?”
Satoru cuts her off and slams the pantry closed before tapping the lid of the powdered beverage container. Shoko processes slowly, shoots him a knowing glance that you can’t quite read, and releases the fabric into the bag again.
Shoko walks over to grab some wrapping paper from Utahime, Satoru takes out a few mugs from the cabinet, and you stand beside him to grab a big enough pot to begin boiling some milk. The moment is calm and familial as you both work on following the simple printed recipe while your roommates prepare their last few gifts before the party.
“Mmm this calls for 2 tablespoons per person… Satoru you definitely put in too much.”
“It’ll taste better that way.”
You hum and stir the simmering pot regardless while your friends on the floor whisper amongst themselves. Satoru pays no mind to them either, fishing out marshmallows and whipped cream and placing them next to the mugs.
Despite the small shake of her head to stop Shoko, Utahime sighs and watches as the woman leans against the couch and waves her phone.
“Hey, Y/N?”
You murmur a hum and nudge Satoru’s arm to not spill while he ladled the hot beverage into each mug.
“You never answered us earlier! Higuruma was asking about what to bring to the Secret Santa.”
Time stops and you release from Satoru’s arm to spin and face Shoko with eyes wide open.
“No way? He texted?”
Shoko smirks and nods slowly while Utahime is looking between her and the man behind you with a worried expression. Sure, you thought Higuruma was hot, hell who didn’t? But to ask if you wanted anything for him to bring made a giddy feeling wash over you.
The way you seem at a loss for words and begin sheepishly trying to work out the logistics of the Uber ride with a questionable amount of liquor bottles, you miss the way Satoru stops dividing the hot cocoa and stares at you. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as an unfamiliar emotion builds in his guts. 
No. 
It’s not unfamiliar; he’s felt it before a million times over, even earlier at the mall. Satoru swallows thickly and reaches to coat the top of his hot cocoa with a thick layer of whipped cream and chocolate syrup before reaching to pass you a mug.
“I can drive you guys, if you want. It's gonna be at my and Suguru's apartment anyways.”
You immediately pause from your position hunched over your phone to compare rideshare app prices for a larger vehicle and look up at the man; his hand reaches out to pass you a serving of hot cocoa. 
“Huh? It’s fine if we,” Shoko motions between herself, Utahime, and you, “ride together. Aren’t you and Suguru going early to set up decorations and drinks?”
Satoru shrugs and replies as if it were simple. “Nah, that’s new pledges jobs this time. I don’t mind swinging by to pick you up. Besides–” he swings an arm around your shoulder. “-there’s no point in matching if we don’t show up together~.”
“Seriously?” you sigh to him.
“Yep.”
You raise an eyebrow at him and hover your lips above the rim of the mug to blow steam away before taking a sip. Shoko keeps a knowing glance on Satoru, which he returns, before slinking back down to the floor and assisting Utahime with adding the finishing touches to the present in front of them.
You move slightly to confront him once again and ask why he would drive you and your roommate so suddenly, when he slides to grab the paper shopping bags and moves to the apartment floor. Music continues playing in the background as you watch the way your roommates shuffle over to make room for the man as if he deserved a permanent seat.
The wind picks up even more, and you cozy into your sweater a bit more before padding over and taking the seat next to him. Silently, he pulls out the Le Creuset you had purchased while Utahime gets up to pour herself a mug and grab a canister of super glue for you to fix it.
While the group wraps gifts and chatter amongst yourselves, Satoru remains fixed at your side, his thigh resting casually against your own.
~~~~~~~~~
“Has anyone seen my hair straightener?” Utahime calls out from the bathroom while rummaging through the drawers under the sink.
“No, but I call dibs on the bathroom in 5 minutes!” Shoko yells from the window where she finishes her cigarette.
You pause in front of your bed surveying the various outfits that match the red cardigan that sits in the center. Dresses seemed too formal considering it was still a frat function, despite it being more intimate than their usual big blowouts. 
Dragging your index finger over a variety of different length skirts, you settle on a black mini and tight white cropped tee to go on top. Paired with black opaque tights, said holly colored cardigan, and cute black boots, you step out into the living to do a full spin.
“Hey! I said 5 min– woa.” Shoko bangs on the bathroom door holding her makeup bag in one hand and pre-game drink in the other while smirking at you, “Hot.”
“Thank you, thank you~”
You do a small 360 and move to the kitchen table to finish up the last few steps of your own makeup routine, laughing when Shoko wedges the door open to squirm inside. Utahime tries to nudge her back outside, but the two wind up elbow-to-elbow in front of the mirror to finish getting ready.
Satoru had texted an hour ago saying he’d be there by no later than 7 to pick you all up and looking up from your compact as you apply the finish touches to your lip gloss, the microwave clock reads 7:38 pm.
“I need more room! Does the back of my hair look even?” Utahime spins around to show it definitely wasn’t even and Shoko replies with a chuckle.
Before you can butt in to prevent an argument, there’s a set of knocks at the door. Keeping an eye on the two of them, you only glance away to peer in the peephole and unlock the door. Satoru shuffles inside, twirling his car keys on his fingers and kicking off his shoes.
“Oh, a new record. Only 40 minutes late this time.” You cross your arms. “And what’s with the sunglasses? It’s dark outside.”
Satoru wiggles off his coat and pushes his frames back up the bridge of his nose. “Did you miss me that much?”
You roll your eyes and walk back to the kitchen table to retrieve your compact while the man giggles a bit before finally drinking in the scene in front of him. He stands motionless at the front entrance still, watching the way you slide your compact into a small purse and stand to whisk together another pre-game drink.
Every curve accentuated with your outfit, your hair looks glossy in the warm light of the floor lamps, and your makeup is done perfectly to compliment your natural features; Satoru’s seen you dolled up a handful of times before, but this time the matching colors you both adorn make pause.
“Did you want one or not?”
“Huh?”
You look up from the pitcher of an assortment of soft drinks and hard liquor with frustration. “I asked if you wanted one like 4 times now.”
“O-Oh,” he says and shuffles into the kitchen a bit closer. “Sure, but a small one; I’m still driving after all.”
You nod and spin back around to pour half a cup while Satoru slowly walks forward at your side; dressed in the same holly red with a cashmere sweater and straight leg jeans, he can’t help but admire your outfit.
“Listen, Y/N–”
“–Don’t use up all my setting spray Shoko! Or I’ll– oh, you’re here.”
Utahime comes from around the corner and pauses when she notices the designated driver has finally arrived. The white haired man at your side laughs lightly and gives a wave while your roommate flattens out the rest of her outfit and moves to stand at your side to pour herself another glass.
“Are you gonna make it to the party if you keep drinking this much?”
“Yea.” She turns to you and takes the first sip of her third drink. “This is just precautionary in case it’s lame.”
Satoru moves his mouth away, despite being about to take a sip, and rolls his eyes. “It won’t be lame. It’s not the same as the usual open-house function we do, but it’s still a JJK party.”
Utahime seems indifferent at the response and takes another big sip while Shoko emerges into the kitchen as well. “Oh? Looks like our ride, or y/n’s ride, has arrived.”
You roll your eyes and take a few gulps of your beverage while Satoru watches your reaction with a gaze you can’t quite decipher. Utahime shivers at the joke and moves to collect her Secret Santa gift from the living room. “Please, stop putting that image in my head. I don’t want to imagine our roommate and him banging in this apartment.”
With a sigh, you move to grab your own Secret Santa gift and pass Satoru the one he had wrapped and left here. Shoko chuckles a bit and assembles her things while sliding out her phone. “Ah, we really should get going.”
Utahime shoots Satoru a glare and wraps an arm around you while he stares in a slight confusion as the conversation pivoted against him. You had agreed to the fwb after all, so why was he the bad guy in this?
Shuffling on shoes, combining liquor and wine bottles into one cardboard box (which Satoru is forced to carry), and triple checking everyone has their gifts, you all head out of the apartment. Light chatter amongst you and your friends as you walk through the lobby while Satoru fishes out his car keys, holding the box with one hand against his side, a clean white Mercedes sits in the resident spot near the front.
You raise an eyebrow and open the trunk for Satoru to slide in the box. “Why are you parked here? The visitor spots are open, and you don’t have a resident tag.”
“Hm?” He ducks and places his hand on the top of the trunk, ready to shut it. “I always park here?”
If he was telling the truth, you couldn’t hide the surprise. Has he always parked here? Before you can question it, Shoko has leaned up from her spot in the back seat to lean against the car horn and begin yelling through the open crack in the window.
“We’re gonna be later than we already are! Make out when we get there!”
You knock against the window to shut her up while Satoru lets out an honest laugh. “Well, you heard the woman. Wouldn’t want to keep her or you waiting.”
You shove his shoulder lightly and he lets out one more chuckle before walking around to sit in the driver’s seat while you take your place in the passenger seat next to him. By the time the car leaves the parking lot, your roommates are bickering amongst each other about song requests and bets on who the rest of the group had for Secret Santa.
Satoru’s hand rests comfortably on your thigh, drawing an array of shapes with his fingers as he handles the steering wheel with the other hand. The feeling is familiar, though the gentleness of the action is new. He wasn’t exactly discreet when it came to wanting your attention or physical touch, but it usually came before you two got down and dirty.
The lightness of his touch while his eyes remained fixed on the road was so casual it almost wasn’t. When Shoko and Utahime shift to talk about Higuruma once again, you don’t bother to join the conversation, and Satoru’s eyes finally leave the road to glance over at you.
~~~~~~~~
“Oh, only an hour and 15 minutes late this time, Satoru. I’m glad I told you the party started at 7:15 and not 8:30.”
Suguru laughs from the kitchen island of their shared apartment while you all shuffle in through the door and remove your winter outwear. Maki and Nobara sit on the sofa in the living room while Inumaki and Yuta mix a few drinks and Yuji and Megumi organize the group’s gifts on the coffee table. 
You, Shoko, and Utahime branch off to greet Nanami and Higuruma in the kitchen while looking around for the rest of the group.
You dig around in the cardboard box Satoru had carried and take out a bottle of prosecco before passing it to Higuruma to open.
“Where’s everyone else?”
Higuruma places a careful hand on the cork and points it away from you as it pops. “Choso is smoking on the balcony and I think Haibara went with Todo to pick up Mai and the others.”
You hum in acknowledgement and open a few cupboards in search of a flute for the drink whichHiguruma fills up without needing the question as soon as you present it.
Across the room, Suguru and Satoru idly pour themselves a drink while the final preparations are being made.
“Soooo, you talk to her yet?”
Satoru raises an eyebrow and finishes his pour of the sweet concoction of fruit juices and rum before turning to his friend. “Who? And what about?”
Suguru cracks open a beer and shoots his friend a sideways glance with a ‘seriously?’ look on his face.
“Oh come on. If you’re gonna keep y/n at a distance, you can’t be all moody when another guy tries to make a move.”
Satoru scrunches his eyebrows and raises the cup to hip lips. “Huh? No one is making a move… and I’m not moody!”
“Yea you are.”
“No–”
“You’re gonna break the cup in a second if you keep gripping it that tightly.”
Satoru pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath; the plastic cup dents and creaks as his pressure lightens. Laughter rings out in the air as you, Higuruma, Utahime, and Nanami all crowd around the kitchen island giggling about something. The way your eyes shut with a large smile on your lips catches his attention before he notices the way the other men in the circle look as starstruck as he does right now.
It shouldn’t bother him; he doesn’t get to be upset when he was the one that proposed all those late night flings you’ve had were completely casual. When the two of you first hooked up months ago during a party, it was the first thing Satoru muttered once you both came down from your highs. Looking at his own reflection with the beverage in his hand, he can’t even remember why he had said it in the first place.
Sure, it was great to be fwb; he gets to know you in and out of the bedroom without any of the ‘responsibilities’ of being a boyfriend. Though watching you lightly shove the arm of a coyly smirking Higuruma, all the ‘obligations’ of being your boyfriend merge into benefits. He could be over there with an arm around your waist telling every guy in here to fuck off, he could be the one to take you shopping rather than shopping for other men, he could be the one you would wear matching colors with on campus, rather than as a lame party gag.
“You done moping yet?”
Satoru lifts the drink and take a few big sips, his eyes never leaving your figure.
“I fucked up, Suguru.”
“Ha!” The man at his side throws his head back and laughs, “I know. We all know.”
Satoru looks over to the balcony entrance, catching the way Shoko peers back at him with her arms crossed with a knowing glance; she only looks away when Choso taps her for a light.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m the one that made it casual to begin with.”
It’s weird to see him so upset, and Suguru drops his smile at the melancholy feeling emitting from his best friend.
He places a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel. For real this time.”
“What if…” The plastic cup in Satoru’s hand crinkles again at the pressure and he drops his voice. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”
A loud sigh can be heard from Suguru’s lips as he shrugs. “Well that’s part of the whole thing; real relationships are scary like that. But–” He looks at the mess of emotions on his friend’s face. “That’s better than whatever you’re feeling right now.”
Satoru swallows thickly and nods slowly in agreement; he had been putting this off for too long now. With a long gulp of his beverage and supportive pat on the back from his best friend, he takes off to the kitchen with his sights set on you.
“No way? You guys went to the holiday market?”
Higuruma nods and motions to Nanami. “Yea, Yuji thought that would be a good place to introduce us.”
Nanami nods and takes a sip of his drink. “It was great; the food stalls were very impressive.”
You look between the two men and almost salivate at the thought of such good food before a heavy arm is thrown over your shoulder. Dragged into the side of Satoru, you look up and shoot him a confused glance.
It isn’t by accident or through a casual greeting for this display of physical touch. While you may see it as Satoru being his usual self, the two other men in the conversation understand the hint. Matching sweaters and his arm around you; Nanami and Higuruma don’t move any closer and pause to change the conversation.
“Hey,” you nudge into his side with a whisper-yell, “what are you doing?”
Satoru looks between the group, which is now immersed in another conversation, before dipping down to your ear. “I needed to talk to you.”
“So?”
“So–” His arm falls down to grab your elbow. “I need to do it in private.”
Raising an eyebrow, you take in the way he leans his head in closer before rolling your eyes and shoving his hand off of you.
“Seriously? Now? You can’t last another day or at least until my conversation is over?”
Satoru purses his lips and watches the way the open group has now isolated you both and turned into a three way conversation between Nanami, Higuruma, and Utahime.
“It’s over. Let’s go.”
You scoff at the brashness but don’t stop him as Satoru pulls you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. 
“Hey where is–”
“Yuji! I need your help with the music; the others will be here soon.”
Suguru pulls Yuji to the side and shoots his best friend one last look before pivoting to push the younger man back into the living room.
By the time the door closes and locks, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently at Satoru while he busies himself with awkwardly cleaning up his room. Awards from his research in oncology hang on the wall alongside an array of photographs from high school to present day.
Satoru shuffles to his bed, some dirty laundry sitting at the foot on the floor. A light gray comforter sits messy atop navy blue sheets, and the ikea paper floor lamp creates a familiar warm glow across the room.
“What’s this about Satoru? You couldn’t wait?”
“Yea.. something like that.”
The atmosphere is awkward and different than any other time he’s pulled you aside. Usually, he’d sweet talk you a bit and get a bit touchy before dragging you into somewhere more private and slamming his mouth on yours. The way he uncomfortably sits on his bed and can’t quite make eye contact reminds you of the first time the two of you ever had sex. Before it was casual.
He rubs the back of his head in thought while the tension makes you squirm where you stand. It occurs to you that this feels more like a friend in need of support rather than the physical prowess who you’ve come to associate with meaningless sex.
Your voice softens and you shuffle to sit beside him on the bed. “Hey… are you ok?”
“Yes– no…” he sighs and looks at his feet. “I don’t know…”
Your heart strings tug at the vulnerability in his voice and the sullen clicking of the vintage clock radio on his desk. “Ok… take your time Satoru. I’m not going anywhere…”
A mix between a chuckle and a scoff escapes his lips and the pained look he gives you is pitiful; he looks down for a moment more before slipping off his sunglasses and dropping them onto the bed.
“I want to end this.”
…. Huh?
“...What?”
“I want to end this.” He meets your gaze and motions between the both of you. “Whatever this is, or was, it’s done.”
You pause and blink at the man, worry and sympathy quickly becoming replaced with anger, embarrassment, and frustration. All the months tangled between the sheets and moments of genuine happiness in his company come crashing down.
“What..? Why?”
With eyebrows furrowed, there’s no way to hide the cold tone laced in each word you spit out; Satoru winces and shuts his eyes before taking a deep sigh.
“I just…. We have to, ok?”
“No, not ok.” You stand up from the bed and make some distance, hands curled into fists. “Not until you give me a real reason.”
Satoru looks at you with tired eyes and glances back at the floor. “There isn’t one…”
“So what then? I was just something to fuck until you got bored?”
He shoots his eyes up and frantically shakes his head. “What? No! That’s not it all.”
“Is there somebody else? Just kept me until you could swoop in and get in a real relationship?”
“N-No!” Satoru stands from the bed and raises his voice to match yours, an argument breaking out.
From down the hall, Suguru winces and motions Yuji to increase the volume on the speakers and offers people fresh drinks to stall for a bit longer.
“I know we’re casual, but I thought I at least meant something to you as a friend.”
“You do!”
Your brows twitch in frustration and hot angry tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Then why are you ending this–”
“Because I’m in love with you!”
…what?
You pause and pant to catch your breath, the silence deafening as Satoru stands pathetically in front of you tugging at his hair in frustration.
“I’m in love with you, ok?” He pushes chunks of it back, only to have it cascade right back down. “That’s why… we can’t do this anymore. It’s not casual.”
You breathe in and out slowly while your pulse shoots through the roof. Standing in the center of his room, the one you’ve been in a million times before, suddenly feels suffocating. When you don’t answer, Satoru peels his eyes off the floor and scans your face with a worried expression.
“Say something… please…”
You swallow and look at him cautiously. “Why… why didn’t you say anything that night?”
Satoru winces and looks back down again before rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands with enough force he’s seeing stars. That night. Why couldn’t he just man up enough that one night all those months ago?
It was the night he had finally mustered up the courage to ask you to a party as his date after months of pathetically trying to find a way to ask you out. Music blaring and alcohol flowing, the sight of you wrapped around his arms dancing was heavenly; the sight of nearly every other guy ogling you was hell. 
Liquid courage flowing through you, you had pushed him back to his bedroom and connected your lips to his. Matching the intensity, he had wasted no time in kissing you back; before anyone could wonder where the two of you had gone, you were making love in between his same navy blue sheets.
When the both of you came down from the high, it was the first thing out of Satoru’s mouth.
Let’s keep this casual, ok?
It hurt so bad to hear, and it hurt him even worse to watch the way your face fell in a dejected response. 
“That night…?”
You grab at the fabric of your skirt in an awkward and anxious energy. “Yea.”
“Because–” Satoru finally looks back at you and sighs, “I don’t think I can make you happy in any way that isn’t physical. I don’t bake bread with ceramic ovens, I don’t practice law and know how to get stupid corks out of wine bottles… I don’t think you would be emotionally happy with me.”
There’s another long pause as the anger fully slips out of you; your hands fall flat at your sides and Satoru finds solace staring at the white shaggy rug that lays beneath his bed to the middle of his room. 
“And you decided that without ever asking me?”
The sound of your voice makes him look up, and he winces, fully expecting you to reject him and tell him to fuck off forever. You take a few cautious steps forward and sigh lightly; taking his hand in your own, you tug at him to meet your gaze.
“Satoru, why do you think I said yes to being your date at that party?” A dry laugh escapes your lips and you watch the way your fingers intertwine with his. “I had been waiting months for you to ask me out… Shoko and Utahime laughed at me so much when I came home and told them you finally did.”
Satoru stays silent for a moment and creates a crease in his forehead from the way his eyes portray nothing but regret and sadness. “And I ruined everything, didn’t I? Pushed you away, and now there’s two great guys out there that would never make the same mistake I did.”
You look up at him and glance between his eyes before smiling gently. “I mean… probably.”
Satoru nearly releases the grip on your hand, but you keep your fingers firm. “But… the guy I like is in here.”
“In here?”
“Mmhmm.”
Satoru’s eyes widen and he searches your face for any sign you’re about to say it’s some sick joke before you lean up to capture his lips with your own. Your lipgloss smearing slightly against his mouth, Satoru’s lips chase after yours when you take a slight pause to breathe.
Hmpfh– 
The force of him stepping forward to continue the kiss has you walking backwards until your legs are plush against his desk. He leans in with more force and cups your cheeks to keep your mouth perfectly aligned with his; strands of white hair fall down at the angle and tickle your face.
The kiss is similar to the ones you’ve shared before, and it makes you wonder if every time you and Satoru had sex, he was hoping it was something more meaningful than a fwb. Lips against your own, his hands fall to grip your waist and keep you still against him; an erection hardening in his jeans against you. 
“F-fuck… Satoru..”
In the brief moment you escape his lip to whimper out, he meets his mouth against yours again and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. Parting for access, the hot muscle eagerly explores your mouth and leaves the fruity taste of pineapple juice on your tongue.
The sensation sets your skin on fire and causes arousal to pool in your panties while his hips rut pathetically against yours. His tongue rubs against your own and the messiness of the kiss leaves saliva dripping from both of your mouths; unable to move from being squished between Satoru and the desk, the pressure of the moment leaves your mind dizzy.
With one last exploration of your molars, Satoru disconnects his lips from yours and immediately moves down to the sensitive skin on your throat. Open mouth kisses litter the flesh under your jaw to the base of your collarbone before the man in front of you pauses and leans back slightly. 
“Is it… is it ok?”
Neither one of you had either left a hickey on the other person, having deemed it too intimate to leave claiming marks when neither of you were entitled to exclusivity. The question he poses has more weight than if he can leave a few bruises; he’s asking if you can be his.
Hot breaths leave his panting lips and you shiver from the sensation; looking up at the man, you take in the pink on his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils.
“Y-Yea.”
Knees nearly buckling forward, Satoru nods once and stumbles forward to latch his lips and teeth onto the delicate flesh of your throat. A surprised groan escapes you, and he sighs before sinking his canines into your skin and sucking the tender spot into his mouth. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain that courses through you at the sensation, one Satoru mirrors as his aching erection painfully pushes at the fly of his jeans.
He’s never been so hard in his life. Sure, he always remembered to thank his lucky stars every time you and him were intimate, but the idea of doing this as a committed pair makes his hips jerk forward in desperation. 
Lips releasing the flesh with a ‘pop’, his mouth moves to suck the pulse point under your jaw while his hands move from holding your hips to hovering just below your tits. Satoru’s mind goes fuzzy when he can feel your pulse on his lips and when your hands rest on his to push his palms to your breast.
The feeling of his mouth sucking dark bruises on your neck and the way his thumbs already know where to push down to grind your nipples through your bra leave you feeling drunk. When his erection grinds against your pelvis again, you lean your head further to the side and groan.
“S-Satoru..”
His lips ‘pop’ off your pulse and trail to find the next spot just under your ear. “Ye-Yea, princess?”
You shudder at the pet name and clench pathetically around nothing while his hands continue kneading your tits.
“Use your words”
Any other time the command might’ve made you a bit embarrassed, but leaning against the desk at his mercy while raging with desire, you don’t really care.
“I want you.”
Despite saying the words before a handful of times when the moment was intense, Satoru doesn’t miss the new implication and weight of them. He leans down to connect your lips again, whimpering when you tug at his hair impatiently.
“God, I could kiss you forever.”
“Ok, then do it.”
He smiles and leans down once to peck your lips again, before backing up and making room for the both of you to walk over to the bed. You're barely on the mattress when he pushes you flush against his pillows and splays your thighs apart to make room for himself. 
Sitting on your elbows, you drink in the sight of Satoru lifting his arms above his head to pull off the sweater and reveal a torso sculpted from marble. An array of scars litter the skin, some from stories you’ve heard and others from ones you’re sure to hear one day; a particular faded scar by his navel remains unknown.
“Sukuna fucking hit me on his stupid bike.”
He notices the way your eyes linger on his torso and pays no mind while his fingertips pinch the hem of your shirt to tug the cardigan and fabric off.
“Really? How?”
“Said he was gonna teach Megumi how to ride.” He drops your red cardigan on the floor to match his sweater and throws your t-shirt haphazardly behind him. “Fucking idiot clipped me and sent me flying to the pavement.”
Your fingers graze the scar once before dropping to outline the hem of his jeans and tracing the outline of his erection. Satoru sucks in a shallow breath and moves to release the button and zipper.
“Did it hurt?”
“Yea– felt like I got split in half. But..” He shimmies the fabric down and kicks it to join the other clothes before reaching behind you to release the metal clasp of your bra. “I’m feeling really good right now.”
You laugh slightly and pull him to another kiss, which he happily leans in for, before you part to wiggle your skirt and tights down. Both of you left in your underwear, the tightness of his Calvin Klein briefs leave little to the imagination.
Pre-cum staining the gray material darker, the tip of his cock is nearly pushing through the fly of the fabric from the intensity. Satoru isn’t sure if he feels light headed from the lack of blood flow to his brain or from the fact that your red panties are stained with arousal.
He pauses and sits back for a moment to peer over the bed and finally notice the way your bra had been the same shade. Gun to his head, if anyone had asked him the color of the fabric earlier, he would’ve been dead.
“F-fuck… did you match this, f’me?”
You wet your lips and nod once while Satoru feels as if he could die happily. The girl of his dream, matched her bra and panties to his outfit? In a silent vow to never fumble the bag ever again, he leans back down to capture your lips.
Leaning against his soft pillows and wrapping your arms around his neck, a squeak escapes you when he tugs to flip the positions over. Hovering over him now, his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and gently push you forward.
“W-what?”
“Get up here and sit.”
You pause and look down at Satoru who tugs at your thighs with a face drunk in desire; his biceps scoot you up higher until you’re hovering his face. Fingers wrapped around the base of your panties, you lean forward to grab his headboard while he slides them down your legs and off each ankle. 
He bundles the wet fabric into a little ball and reaches up to tuck it underneath one of his pillows.
“H-hey! Give it back, perv.”
“I will.. After you sit.”
His hands reach up to your hips and push you down onto his nose and mouth; the sensation immediately makes you gush in arousal. Satoru’s pointed nose nudges your puffy clit while his lips suck at your entrance before his tongue slithers in. You groan and curl your toes for a moment before trying to tense your thighs and stand; his hands immediately hold you still.
Leaning back for a moment, the scene beneath you is filthy. Satoru’s lips are swollen from the suction and your slick coats his mouth and chin; he looks up at you as if you had taken away something so very dear to him.
“Hey, get back down here.” He whines up at you, his eyes nearly black from the size of his pupils.
“B-but… i might crush–”
He pulls your thighs down lower and breathes hot against your pussy, licking a long stripe and peering up once more. “Then go ahead and crush me. As if I’d want to die anywhere else than under your fucking cunt.”
With one last tug, he pulls you down onto his face once again and continues his ministrations; the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Tongue pushing into your sopping cunt with a disgusting french kiss while his nose lifts to grind against your clit once more. 
It takes one more tug of your hips before you take a deep breath and grab the headboard firmly, ready to finally grind. One sway of your hips instantly amplifies the pleasure; his nose rutting with perfect pressure before your effectively fucking his face.
Whimpers escape your and Satoru’s lips, the vibration further making your mind fuzzy. His tongue presses against the fleshly walls of your cunt in desperation to drink in every drop of your arousal while his hands freely knead the flesh of your ass as you grind. Hunching forward, you can vaguely makeout the scene beneath you; Satoru’s hair plastered his forehead with sweat while his eyes are screwed shut in concentration. The redness of his face makes you wonder if he can even breathe properly. 
“Ahhh… S-Satoru… gonna..”
He gently pushes up on your thighs and takes several deep breaths while trying to form a sentence.
“On my…cock… gotta cum on my cock… please princess..”
You whimper at the lack of stimulation after getting so close to the edge and peer back to notice the angry way his cock throbs against the fabric. The pre-cum patch even larger than before, you turn back around and nod once before swinging your thighs over his head to sit on his comforter.
Your arousal still coating the entire lower half of his face, Satoru runs his tongue over his lips to savor the taste before capturing you with a kiss once more. His tongue feeds you your own slick and, with a fuzzy mind, you barely process when his mouth leaves yours.
You watch the man slide off the bed and open his night stand drawer for the familiar box of condoms before dropping it.
“Shit. There’s no way…”
He leans in to reach around again before pulling back empty handed and dropping to his knees to feel around his jeans for his wallet. Unfolding it open, he sighs when there’s no foil in sight and runs a hand through his hair in desperation. 
“Guess my luck had to run out eventually.”
You sit on the bed and watch the scene unfold before raising an eyebrow. “Well… can’t we just get the morning after pill?”
“Huh?” He looks up and approaches the bed. “You’re ok with that?”
You’re so horny you’d be ok with anything right now; and the thought of missing out on orgasming again has you going feral. Satoru thanks his lucky stars when you nod in approval, and climbs back onto the mattress to place a chaste kiss to your lips.
He guides you to shimmy down and lay on your back while he reaches into the drawer to pull out a small container of lube; Satoru finally shimmies out of his briefs and kicks them to the floor to let his erection stand freely. It’s a sight you’ve always loved, a tidy bush trimmed at his base while a cock longer and thicker than any guy you’ve been with twitches with anticipation.
Pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand, Satoru gives himself a few generous strokes and massages the flushed tip of his cock before tapping it against your clit for good measure. Splaying your thighs apart with his knees, your legs lift to wrap around him while he crawls forward and slowly slides in.
“Nnnghh..fuck–”
 The burning stretch is one your pussy can never get used to, and your hands on his shoulder blade leave your nails digging into the flesh. Satoru slowly continues pushing in until his pubes are tickling your skin and he’s completely bottomed out inside you.
“Oh my go— fuck princess…. Ha… might cum just from feeling you…”
He sucks a new bruise into the side of your neck, giving you time to adjust while your cunt flutters around him pathetically in an attempt to accommodate his size. Waiting a moment, he finally slides out before pushing back in, with a light ‘tap’ from the headboard into the wall. 
The feeling is insurmountable, and any resolve Satoru had to take things slower seeps out of him as he thrusts in and out of your cunt with a bruising tempo; his tip slamming into your cervix. Legs still hoisted around his waist, the pubic hair on his pelvis grinds forward into your clit with each stroke.
“Aahhh Sator– mpfh”
His hand moves to cover your mouth while he continues bullying his cock into your snug cunt.
“Shh princess… can’t– haaa… can’t have them hearing you..”
Despite his attempt to cover your moans, there’s an audible ‘plap!’ plap!’ plap!’ from the sound of his heavy balls smacking your ass and the banging of the headboard into the wall. The wooden frame creaks uncomfortably, and Satoru bites back down onto your neck to avoid groaning.
Shit. Considering it feels this good without a condom, he would get a vasectomy if he meant he could always hit it raw.
“H-huh?”
Oops. Did he say that part out loud?
His hips snap into yours and long scratches make their way down his back, the pain only heightening the pleasure while his cock drills into you. Noticing the way your hips arch upward in search of more friction, Satoru reaches to grab a pillow and pull it under your waist.
The angle tilts your waist so perfectly, each snap of his hips grinds further onto your puffy clit while his tip bruises your g-spot. Your cunt gushes at the sensation and Satoru is left thinking a million different images to avoid cumming. Boring oncology classes, midday traffic, Yaga teaching said boring classes; his hips twitch pathetically at his impending orgasm.
“Y-you’re trying to milk me dry? Ha~.. gotta make sure you cum soon ngh too..”
He snakes a hand forward to rub mean circles on your clit and the feeling makes you throw your head back and groan exceptionally loud. The coil in your abdomen grows tighter, and you lift your hips to meet his thrusts in an attempt to reach your high.
“ahhh … S-Satoru, I’m gonna… c-cum..”
Satoru falls forward and continues hammering into your abused cunt while you scrunch your eyebrows and moan as your orgasm washes over you. His hips keep pumping his cock into you as your body twitches to ride out the high and tears prick at your eyes from the intensity. 
Your legs feel like jelly and, before they can drop, Satoru holds onto the plush underside to keep them up and grinds his pelvis up against yours a few more times. Before overstimulating can make you squirm, his pace gets erratic and he shudders desperately as hot ropes of cum pour into you.
Fucking himself through his orgasm, he snaps forward a few more times to ensure every last drop is out, and the sensation makes you feel borderline bloated. His erection softening, Satoru slips out with a wince and watches in a daze as his cum slowly drips out of you; without thinking, he dips an index forward to catch it and push it back in.
“Satoruu,” you whine from your fucked out position on his bed.
The man snaps out of his trance and reaches forward to grab a handful of tissues to wipe you both down. Semen leaks out of your cunt and onto the tissue while another piece absorbs the cream ring that was on the base of his cock. In silence, you both catch your breath and take in the moment.
Aside from condoms, it’s the first time Satoru’s ever been inside you without a barrier, and also the first time he’s fully cum in you without protection. Panting slightly, he lays against the bed and pulls you from your seated position and into his arms.
You trace invisible shapes on his pecs before looking up and realizing he was already staring at you.
With a light scoff you flick his forehead, “You’re staring, weirdo.”
“Hmm? Can’t stare at my girlfriend?”
The word makes you pause, the way it slips off his tongue so naturally makes you feel as if the title had been reserved for the whole time. You pause and take a deep breath.
“About that… I think we should keep this casual, Satoru.”
He sucks in a breath from above you and his eyes widen in shock and hurt; pretending to look off in the distance as if his heart wasn’t breaking, he shrugs in a forced manner.
“Gotcha~”
You sit up to lean over his face and capture his lips in a kiss before running your hands through his hair to push it back. Satoru sits up and shakes his head with a whimpered sigh. “Don’t do that! I already said I was sorry!”
Giggling slightly, you pinch at his arm to release you, but he makes no move to lighten his hold. 
“We have to get dressed and go back–”
“Call me my real title first.”
He nuzzles into your neck and places gentle kisses while his biceps keep you pinned into his chest. With a giggle you sigh and lean against him.
“Ok, can my boyfriend let me go so we can get dressed?”
“Hmmm, he’ll think about it.”
You shake your head and Satoru lifts his own to place a soft kiss against your lips, chasing after them when you part for a quick breath. It’s gentle and slow, one you’ve never shared until right now.
With a defeated sigh, he lets you stand up and dig through the clothes to find your bra and snap the clasp back on. He admires the sight before standing up and grabbing a fresh pair of underwear for himself and you from his drawers.
“Hey, aren’t you gonna give me back my own?”
Satoru raises an eyebrow and bounces on one leg to slide into the pant leg of his jeans. “What? I don’t remember you wearing any earlier…”
Knowing it was a battle you were never going to win anyways, you slide on his spare boxer briefs and throw your t-shirt over your shirt. Satoru reaches for his sweater while you shimmy your tights and skirt back on; he gives a few sprays of the cologne he knows you like and leaves his sunglasses on the bed.
Giving you a moment for one final smooth of your outfit, Satoru opens the door and takes your hand to guide you down the hallway back towards everyone.
“Why can’t we start already? I wanna know who has meee,” Yuji whines from the loveseat.
Suguru stands in the center of the living room trying to calm the crowd only pausing to notice the way his best friend saunters into view with you latched onto his arm.
“Oh, sorry for the hold up.” He slides onto the couch and tugs you into his arms to sit beside him. “My girlfriend and I had to get something sorted.”
He looks around to see the reactions of the crowd and raises an eyebrow when no one moves from excitement. Megumi rolls his eyes beside Yuji while Yuta and Inumaki cough awkwardly. Even Choso sits idly next to Todo as if Satoru were reporting the weather to the group.
“Did you hear? Y/N and I are dating–”
“We know.” Shoko interrupts and pours herself another glass of wine from the kitchen.
Satoru whips around to stare at her while the look Utahime gives you makes you want to instantly disappear; you tug on your boyfriend’s sweater but he takes that to mean you want to hold his hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. 
“No, we’re like… together–together”
“WE KNOW!” the group yells in unison.
You slink into the sofa and wish to disappear while Satoru blinks in confusion and looks among the group. Suguru rolls his eyes and moves to sit beside you on the other side of the couch. “We all heard you in his room.”
If there was ever a time for a bomb to go off, it would be right now. Nobara and Maki snicker to themselves while Higuruma, Haibara, and Nanami stand near the window and shake their heads slightly. 
Suguru leans over to you both and shrugs. “I could only stall for so long; they got suspicious when the headboard was louder than my speakers.”
You squeak and sink into your boyfriend’s arms while he sheepishly scratches at the back of his undercut. “That loud huh?”
“Yep.”
He leans away from his friend and runs a reassuring hand over your shoulder to relax, the mortifying moment leaving you wondering if you could ever show your face on campus again.
“It’s ok, we just gotta be quiet next time–”
“Her neck is also completely purple with hickies,” Suguru interrupts once again before leaning back and taking a long sip of beer in the process. 
With one more curt nod, and cutting his losses, Satoru claps his hands and eyes the mountain of gifts piled on the coffee table.
“Well, now that you all know about my and y/n’s sex life and committed relationship, let’s get this Secret Santa started!”
A mix of groans and ‘ooos’ emit from the group; Utahime stands up to begin the process while Satoru keeps a comfy arm around your waist as you partially lay into his chest.
“I know the holidays have passed, but now that we’re all back on campus from break, I figured it would be best to do the exchange now. Is everyone ready?”
Yuji and Todo pump their fist up in excitement while Mai grimaces at the loud outburst. With the gift exchange beginning, you nestle into your boyfriend’s arms and rest your head on his shoulder.
A chaste kiss is placed on your forehead and Satoru runs his thumb absentmindedly across the skin on your thigh. 
“What color are we doing next?”
“Hm?” you hum, peeling your gaze from the excited look on Inumaki’s face as he revealed a new microphone, and focusing on the man beside you.
“For the first day of class, what color should we match with then?”
A grin breaks across your face and you admire his eyes for a moment. “Maybe sky blue?”
Tumblr media
thank you so much for reading this installment of holiday hoes! i had so much fun writing this gojo one hehe
i have suguru -> yuta -> choso next before this mini series ends & i'll be doing chapters for my longer fics (L, Aizawa) in between
likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated
-oatmeal
✌︎('ω')✌︎
106 notes · View notes
notlongtolove · 11 hours ago
Text
to get it anyway
a steel case to the face. that's the last thing you remember seeing. spencer’s voice, shouting your name. gunfire in rapid succession. you remember hearing sirens. maybe. you’re not entirely sure. hands, trembling, cupping your cheeks.  then, nothing.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)
genre: fluff, hurt comfort
content: slight mentions of stitches and wounds. bau!reader gets hurt during a case and spencer is worried out of his mind—maybe even worried enough to confess his feelings for her???
word count: 2.3k
note: love the linked poem... also need someone to confess their undying love for me rn rn rn (also is this considered fluff? im not too good w tags)
a line: He cradled your head in his hands, shielding your body with his own when the gunfire went down. His world tilted on its axis—Instinct overtaking reason.
Tumblr media
the final sour cherry we kept politely pushing onto each other’s plate, saying, No, you. But it’s so good. No, it’s yours. How I finally put an end to it, plucked it from the plate, and stuck it in my mouth. How good it tasted: so sweet and so tart. How good it felt: to want something and pretend you don’t, and to get it anyway. - cristin o’keefe aptowicz
Tumblr media
A steel case to the face. That's the last thing you remember seeing. Spencer’s voice, shouting your name. Gunfire in rapid succession. You remember hearing sirens. Maybe. You’re not entirely sure. Hands, trembling, cupping your cheeks. 
Then, nothing.
Spencer’s pacing down the hallway, his hands restless at his sides as he calls out for the doctor who’s only just walked out of your room. Before he can get far, he feels a hand clamp down on his shoulder, firm enough to stop him in his tracks.
“Hey,” Morgan says, his voice low. “Hey!” he says again, louder, forcing Spencer to look at him this time, “You gotta slow down.”
“She—she was hit. In the head!” Spencer twists under his grip, his eyes darting toward the room where you’re lying behind a closed door. “Do you know how fragile the human skull is? She could have a concussion or—or intracranial bleeding, or—I need to—”
“What you need to do—is calm down,” Morgan interrupts. His tone is stern, leaving no room for argument. “You pacing and panicking? That’s not helping her. And it’s not helping you. You’re worried. We all are. I get it.”
But Spencer isn’t just worried. He’s terrified. He’s bone-deep, mind-numbingly terrified. You all get hurt sometimes—Occupational hazard. Duh. Everyone knows that. But it’s rare for any of you to actually end up warded in the hospital, rarer for it still, to be a two-hour wait with no definitive answers. The doctors had been maddeningly vague: We’ll let you know as soon as possible. No reason to worry. But how could he not?
“Don't tell me to calm down, I—” Spencer’s voice cracks. His chest feels tight, constricted. “Even small blows can cause severe brain damage. Nobody knows how fast—how fast neurons can start to—”
“Reid,” Morgan repeats, his grip not letting up. “They checked her. Twice. You saw it yourself. You saw them go in. I promise you—They’re on it.”
Spencer doesn’t reply. He doesn’t tell Morgan that 3.6% of hospital deaths occur because of medical negligence—A staggering 1.8% of those linked to head injuries. Doesn’t tell him how many journal articles he’s read on misdiagnosed head trauma or the cascading complications that can go unnoticed until it’s too late. The numbers run through his mind unbidden anyway.
“I’m gonna let you go now,” Morgan says carefully, studying Spencer’s face. “But you gotta stay calm, kid. You hear me? Hotch is already looking.” 
Spencer forces himself to look where Morgan’s nod directs him. Hotch is speaking to a local officer at the end of the hallway, eyes already darting warningly towards them. “I’m calm,” Spencer mutters, though his chest feels like it’s caving in and his breaths are shallow and his heart is pounding so hard he thinks it’s a wonder Morgan can’t hear it. Nothing about this feels calm at all. Not even remotely. 
He drags himself to the bench in the hallway reluctantly. As it turns out, sitting does little to settle him. His leg bounces uncontrollably and he bites at his nails, a nervous habit he hasn’t indulged in since childhood. Old habits resurface when the mind is in distress, he recalls. He doesn’t even glance up when Morgan comes by again with a peace offering in the form of a cup of coffee. Not even when Hotch had come to pass on his well wishes, a pressing call waiting for him back at the bureau. 
The minutes crawl by and Spencer counts each one. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. At ninety-three, a doctor finally approaches. Spencer bolts upright, standing so fast that his head spins a little. You’re stable. Visitors are allowed. Two at a time. He barely registers anything else that the doctor says.
You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.
The sharp antiseptic smell hits him first. Then it’s you, eyes blinking blearily as you try to grab a cup of water from the overbed table. The motion makes you wince and Spencer is at your bedside in an instant, his knees bumping gently against the frame as he leans down. 
“Stop I—I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” he says softly, scooping up the cup before you can strain yourself any further. 
“Thanks, Spence,” you whisper, your voice hoarse. You take the cup from him with a weak smile and lift it to your lips for a small sip.
Spencer’s gaze flits involuntarily to your temple. Stitches, eight of them, subcuticular running sutures, from what he can see. They start at your hairline, tracing a clean path down just shy of your cheekbone. He tries to tell himself it’s a good sign—clean wound edges, minimal scarring expected. He wants to say something but the sight of you, pale lips, fragile in the oversized hospital gown, usual biting sarcasm and saccharine teasing nowhere to be found, makes his heart ache. 
“How do you feel?” he finally manages. Even he knows it's a stupid question the moment it leaves his lips. 
“Like I got whacked in the face.” Ah, there you are.
Spencer chuckles meekly though ​​his attempt at lightness falls flat when he catches sight of the stitches again.
“S’not as bad as it looks,” You say tiredly, noticing his line of sight. “The nurse told me it was barely a concussion. A mild one at worst.” 
“Oh yeah? Would’ve been nice to know ‘bout two hours ago,” Morgan interjects, cutting into the quiet moment. Spencer startles slightly, having completely forgotten he was there. “Pretty sure our poor boy wore a hole in the tiles from all his pacing.”
The flush creeping up Spencer’s neck is immediate, spreading to his cheeks as he goes a little crimson. Regardless, he’s thankful for the soft laugh it draws from you. Eyes crinkling, lips curved. You look a little more like yourself now, even if the weariness hasn’t fully dissipated. It makes Spencer feel a little fuller, a little lighter. 
Spencer’s liked you since the first day he met you. 248 days ago, to be exact—But it’s definitely not like he’s kept count or anything. 
He thought he’d like you when he read over your application file. You’d cited winning a local checkers tournament at age 11 as one of your ‘greatest accomplishments to date’.
He knew he liked you when he caught you trying to explain the concept of gravity to Henry at his fourth birthday party using a juice box and a cookie.
When you quoted Aristotle in an attempt to convince Hotch to get a new coffee machine for the unit? Spencer was certain he’d fallen in love right then and there. Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work. Doesn’t it, Spence?
“Aw, Spence,” you coo softly, your voice carrying that honey sweet lilt he’s grown so fond of. “M’fine. Really.” 
For a fleeting moment Spencer almost believes you. Because the way his heart flutters when you reach over to squeeze his hand in reassurance makes him think he’s the one who should be hooked up to those machines instead. Your thumb brushes gently over the back of his hand and Spencer feels his breath hitch, swallowing hard. He swears he goes a little dizzy for a moment so he promptly takes a seat in the chair by your bed.
“It’s good to see you awake, pretty girl. You really had us worried there for a minute,” Morgan says. Spencer nods fervently in agreement. After a beat, Morgan just can’t seem to help himself, adding, “Well, some of us more than others.” Spencer’s certain Morgan’s thoroughly amused by how flustered he is—More so that you seem blissfully unaware. 
“I’ll leave you two to it.” Spencer pretends not to notice the pointed glance and shameless smile Morgan throws his way. “Don’t let this one fuss over you too much, though. He’s got that down to an art form.” The door clicks shut behind Morgan, and the room grows quiet again, save for the faint hum of the machines and the soft rustle of sheets as you shift slightly in bed.
“Do you remember anything? Before? After?” Spencer asks. He’s painfully aware of how your hand hasn’t moved from his. 
“Not much,” you sigh, your eyes downcast. “Lots of shots… shouting.”
Spencer nods grimly, his jaw tight. If he were being honest, he didn’t remember much either. The moment he saw you go down, his mind had gone blank, aside from the fuzzy static screaming in his ears. He’d lunged toward you as your body crumpled to the ground. The scuff on his pants and the sting of his elbow attest to that fact. His knees had scraped against the concrete as he cradled your head in his hands, shielding your body with his own when the gunfire went down.
His world tilted on its axis—Instinct overtaking reason.
FBI protocol was clear: never abandon your weapon, never turn your back during active gunfire. Subsection 28A, paragraph 2, page 36. Spencer knew it by heart. (He knew the entire handbook by heart.)
But Spencer also knew that if it ever came down to it, he’d take a bullet for you without hesitation.
“I remember you,” you admit softly, your voice a little stronger as you glance up at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“M—me?”
“Mhmm,” you hum, “I remember you calling my name. You holding me.” A faint smile tugs at your lips. Your fingers trace gentle circles into his palm as you sigh, “I only remember you, Spence.” ​​It sends a flip through him, right down to his toes—He short circuits. 
“I care about you,” Spencer blurts. His mind feels foggy, his words slipping out before he can overthink them. “Like, really care about you.” He winces internally. Filler words? Really? But with the way you’re looking at him—kind, expectant, devastatingly patient—he can’t seem to summon anything better. 
“I like you,” he tries again, his voice just a tad firmer. “A lot. More than I probably should. I—I really like you,” he adds in a rush. Real smooth, Spencer. 
You tilt your head, biting your lip to suppress a grin, and Spencer hopes you can't feel how sweaty his palms are.
“I know,” you say simply.
“Y—you do?” His voice comes out shakier than he likes.
“I do. Kinda guessed it from the teasing and stuff.”
Silence.
It stretches just long enough for Spencer to start panicking. He’s briefly comforted by the fact that even mild concussions can cause memory lapses and wonders if there’s any other way to make you forget this humiliating confession. 
“I’m sorry,” he stammers, rushing to fill the quiet. “I’m being insensitive. You’re probably overwhelmed enough as it is—I shouldn’t have—”
“I like you too, Spencer,” you say softly, cutting him off. 
“You—you do?”
"I do," you nod unabashedly, utterly unflustered. “I have for a while now, actually.”
His eyes widen. “You have?”
“Yes I have, and I do, I really like you too,” you say with a sheepish smile, laughing. “But if you keep making me repeat myself you’re gonna give me the headache the doctors keep saying I'm lucky not to have.” 
“S’not funny,” Spencer mutters, but he smiles anyway. The brightest smile he’s had today. Maybe even this week. Possibly even this year. “Don’t joke about that. I was really worried.”
“I know,” you reply warmly. “Something about pacing holes into the tiles, if I recall.”
Spencer rolls his eyes, a boyish laugh slipping out. He hadn’t imagined this moment unfolding in a hospital room, of all places. To be honest, he hadn’t imagined this happening at all. 
You’ll probably be out in three days. Maybe two if you’re lucky. He’ll ask you out then. Properly. Dinner at that Thai place you both love. A trip to the library you’d mentioned two months ago but never got around to visiting. He’ll take you to the park where he plays chess every Saturday. He’s going to do it all. The thought makes him absolutely giddy. 
Unbeknownst to the two of you, outside, Morgan hasn’t budged. Not an inch. He’s standing by the blinds, peering in through the narrow sliver. The panicked clatter of heels on the tiled floor announces Garcia’s arrival before she’s even turned the corner. Her face is the epitome of panic, teary eyes wide with worry.
“How—how bad is it?” she blurts, her voice shaking. “Oh god, did she make it? Reid called and—”
Morgan silences her with a gentle finger to her lips. “Shhhh. She’s fine.”
“Fine?! But—But Reid said something about brain trauma—and her neurons and—”
“Babygirl, you and I both know how he gets when it comes to her,” Morgan chides, “Nurse said it’s barely a concussion.”
Garcia lets out a deep, shaky breath, her shoulders sagging dramatically as relief washes over her. “Oh, thank god,” she utters, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m gonna kill that boy, d’you know what he told me?! He said—” 
“Hold that thought,” Morgan says, cutting her off with a smirk. “Our boy genius is a little… preoccupied right now.” He steps aside slyly, gesturing toward the blinds. “Take a peek. You’ll thank me later.”
Inside, Spencer has moved his chair closer to your bedside. One of his hands holds yours securely, fingers interlocked now, while the other traces soothing circles along your forearm. His smile is blinding, proud even, as laughter fills your face. When you shift, a strand of hair falls across your face, and Spencer gently brushes it aside, his hand lingering on your cheek.
Garcia visibly melts at the sight. She lets out a soft, adoring sigh as Morgan starts to steer her gently down the hallway.  “You know, when I told you last week that she wouldn’t know Reid liked her even if it hit her in the face, I didn’t mean it literally,” she quips, amused. 
“I know babygirl, I know,” Morgan chuckles, shaking his head as he places a hand on her shoulder. “Now, come on. I think I saw some jello in the cafeteria.”
⋆✴︎˚。⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!
ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: magnets by niki soft spot by keshi
90 notes · View notes
ropebunnykant · 1 day ago
Text
#liz im gonna be so real. as interesting as this is i think this is the first time i actually disagree w u#not even necessarily on the religious stuff but more on the bison stuff. bc i get a completely different read on him tbh#like i just don't think i would ever describe him as someone who enjoys killing ppl. 100% he has a violent streak in him#but imo that's not bc he has some inherent penchant towards violence that brings him joy but rather as a result of his upbringing#under lilly's roof. and also bc he's unstable as hell but i think that's also bc of lilly and probably what happened to his parents too#but i don't at all think he enjoys killing ppl. like one of the first things we're told abt him is that he wants out! he's so vocal abt it!#like he always wants to get things over and done with and get out asap! it's fadel who's meticulous and concerned! bison has always seemed#completely detached from the killing to me. the only time we saw emotion that kinda leans that way was in that first honeypot scene#but that imo that was a power thing and not a violence thing. and i think the fact that he FANTASIZES abt doing all these violent things#but in actuality does none of them proves that. he was angry and hurt and defaulted to extreme violence bc that's all he knows atp#but the reality is he did none of it. he easily could have. but he didn't bc he's NOT inherently violent in that way. he just doesn't know#how else to process his hurt. violence is all he HAS. like i don't think he was delighting in it at all i think he's just fucked up lmao#and while i agree that fadel is suspicious of lilly imo bison has always been presented as the thorn in her side#he's the one who questions her. who gets annoyed w her. who doesn't seem to give much of a fuck if the job gets done or not#he's the one who wants to get away and VOICES it. to her face. and while i do think that fadel probably KNOWS more#he's lowkey completely under her thumb in a way bison isn't. he doesn't wanna question her or doubt her and he doesn't want bison to either#now that could be bc he KNOWS she's crazy but either way i just completely disagree w the implication that bison is closer w lilly!#i think she KEEPS him close and butters him up more precisely BECAUSE she knows if she doesn't keep him docile he could be#a v big problem for her. fadel can be trusted to stay in line. bison can't be. so she HAS to give him extra attention. does that make sense#so while i do agree that bison believes what she says and takes what she tells them abt these 'bad people' at face value#imo that's more of a symptom of him just. not caring enough to question it than it is him wholeheartedly believing she's 100% honest#i'm so sorry 😞 u know i love u but this post was just not it for me </3
tags by @sunsetsover
first of all NEVER apologize for disagreeing with me, we're allowed to have varying opinions as long as we can be respectful about it which you very much were and i appreciate and adore the additions because i think you bring up some good points, even if we do clearly disagree. i'm gonna explain my personal reasoning for thinking the way i do, but my intention isn't necessarily to change your mind, just to back up my own thoughts on this because obviously i have reasons for viewing bison the way i do.
first of all, i absolutely agree that bison's violent streak is a result of his upbringing - and i actually would argue that his upbringing is also what led him to have a delight in it, which i do still stand by. because while i agree the instance we see in the first episode is very much also about power, i think it is also about the act of killing. to me, he has always seemed to be in a pretty positive state of mind when they're on the job, and while maybe that is just his way of detaching from it, i don't think he would involve himself so heavily in certain instances if that was the case. i've had this belief about him since episode one tbh, but i think what truly cemented it for me that bison enjoys it, was strangely enough, this gif that antania @riggerbison made from episode six.
Tumblr media
to me, this gif is a PERFECT representation of how both fadel and bison cope with the killing and violence they enact (and yes, i know they don't actually kill these guys, but the point stands!). because on the one hand we have fadel, standing straight up, detaching himself from it, not looking at the guy at all. and then we have bison, cradling his guy to his chest, looking right at him, even looking like he's making those soft, sarcastic "hey it's okay" noises you see so often in this kind of media. and to your point, i think you can totally view this as bison also enjoying the power in it as well, but i also think the two are linked in a lot of ways. especially because canonically, bison is a sadist! we know, in great detail, the fact that he gets off on hurting someone else. and while obviously there's a difference between hurting someone in a safe and controlled environment and hurting them to kill them or inflict real damage, i don't think (SPECIFICALLY IN BISON'S CASE!) that the two are entirely divorced from one another, either.
i also don't think this is negated by the fact that bison wants to get out, either. antania and i actually talked about this back just after episode two, but bison's desire to get out is less about not finding enjoyment in the violence and the killing, it's the fact that he has no freedom. bison is someone that has never had control and he desperately, desperately craves it, so of course he wants to get out from under the thumb of someone who forces him into a life of isolation. because that has ALWAYS been bison's main complaint. if memory serves me correctly, he actually only directly states he doesn't want to kill people anymore once, and that's in his outburst to fadel in episode three. and i'm not saying that he's lying there, but i think the fact that the sentence is almost immediately followed "i want a boyfriend!" tells us that it's not actually because he doesn't like the killing aspect, and far more about the fact that he wants a social life. he wants friends, he wants a boyfriend, he wants to be open and honest with those people in his life. but those two things directly contradict each other and while maybe bison does enjoy the killing aspect, it's certainly not enough to rid him of his desire to have a community.
and i do agree bison is the thorn in lilly's side! but i don't think that comes from suspicion, i think it comes from again, a desire for freedom. i don't think bison views lilly as evil or doesn't believe the things she tells him, i think it again comes from his desire for control. i also think he's ALLOWED to be the thorn in her side because again, he's portrayed (at least from the limited scenes we've seen) as her favorite. like she has a soft spot for him. and i actually agree, like you said, i think it likely comes off that way BECAUSE she knows she has to butter him up so he won't make the wrong moves. but i also think it gives him more leeway than say, fadel, who while more visibly obedient, is also the one that will openly lie to her, will make sure bison keeps things from her, and he's the one that we suspect has already disobeyed her once before. i think the difference isn't so much who's more under her thumb so much as it is who is more strategic about her. and i think the fact that fadel is more strategic about his approach, while bison is willing to be vocal, does show which one of them actually trusts her more. if bison didn't have some level of respect and trust for her, he wouldn't be willing to speak up at all - he'd go behind her back more readily in the same way fadel does. because fadel is the one going behind her back and around her - and that's infinitely more dangerous than the person letting her know upfront what he thinks.
obviously i don't expect you to suddenly change your opinion, but i do hope this explains my thoughts on it all better :)
just woke up in a cold sweat because i think i’ve realized exactly what all the fucking religious symbolism is actually pointing out and like hoooooly shit. holy shit.
the fact that bison wears a jesus shirt in his fantasies of killing kant has been nagging me since the moment i realized it and i think i’ve realized why it is - and the reason for all of the things pointing towards and symbolizing bison as jesus.
it’s because that’s how bison views himself. not as actually jesus and the second coming, no, but he views himself as righteous, as a reckoning for all these people that they kill. he believes their mother when he says they only kill bad people, and that’s why he gets so much enjoyment out of it, why he involves himself far more in it than fadel, who always detaches himself. it’s why he delights in the idea of killing kant now, fantasizes about it, because he thinks that’s what’s right. kant betrayed him, and he’s a good person. he’s righteous. so that means kant deserves to die for it.
and that’s why kant is judas the betrayer AND john the beloved. because when bison knows it’s coming and turns a blind eye, he views himself the same way as jesus turning a blind eye to judas’s betrayal. and he’s the one the makes kant into john the beloved finding the tomb empty first because he hides from him (notably after kant had confessed to not wanting to lie to bison anymore)!
bison views himself as righteous. as jesus.
but he’s not. because jesus would never take joy in killing anyone. jesus would never have fun with it, in the same way bison does. and even if he did, jesus wouldn’t want to stop to date.
but you know who doesn’t take joy in any of it? who detaches himself from it? who seems, in the very least, suspicious of their mother?
you know who’s birthday is on christmas?
fadel. and if fadel is jesus… then bison can’t be. actually, i think that might make bison far closer to judas the betrayer. and that’s just awfully poetic, isn’t it? because didn’t judas think he was doing the right thing, too, when he sold jesus out? when he took money in exchange for telling the soldiers which one jesus was? just like bison thought he was doing the right thing when he told kant to get fadel off his back. just like he exchanged his brother for a lover and took them both down in the process.
108 notes · View notes
worksby-d · 2 months ago
Text
went to the chris tag for the first time in literal months to find gifs from the dog thing he did with stephen colbert and it's still so scary there omg
15 notes · View notes
crowkip · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
yeehaw, baby!
13K notes · View notes
theoldkyokodied · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
One wedding and three funerals
Background paintings under the cut
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
#tomgreg#succession#tom wambsgans#greg hirsch#shiv roy#roman roy#kendall roy#yeah no im not tagging everyone thats too much#this is me going 'how much implications themes and symbolism can i fit in one painting'#yes i gave rose shivs haircolor. if we ever find out how she looks like and its not like this im just gonna pass away i guess#but yeah i hope yall connect the dots#i put waaay too much thought and work into this. i was googling pictures of all the actors as kids just for reference (sigh)#honestly kinda wanted to make tom and greg link pinkies as like. a pinkie promise. but that was too hard to draw in this angle#at least not without obstructing the view of the ring which is important to see so ya#my fave is actually the tomshiv wedding pic i went off with that. i love them... they should have run away to become sheep farmers fr fr#anyway im so glad im done with this UGH!! finally i can draw smth else without being like oh noooo i need to finish this#i see a lot of you wondering why there is no portrait of logan but one of ewan#it's bc the placement of the painting represent their standing. logans portray would not hang next to the stairs#his present portrait hangs at the end of it. all the way up at the top. alone and withering away#basically the picture you see underneath ewan to the right? its where toms parents would be. the right side of the wall is tom and gregs#and the left one is the roy siblings theirs. since they grew up rich rich. and tom and greg didn't#but ya thats why ewan hangs here and logan does not :)
15K notes · View notes
autistics4kobrakid · 2 days ago
Text
THANK YOU FOR THE TAG BABYGIRL‼️‼️
1. Last song: Good Luck, Babe! - Chappell Roan
2. Favourite colour: Greeeeen. (in the voice of that one ninjago clip)
3. Last movie: I don’t actually remember the last movie i watched im not a huge movies guy 😭
4. Last book: Again not much of a books guy but i do love the killjoys comics so im gonna go with those???
5. Sweet, spicy, or savoury: I don’t mind all of them but i think i’ll say sweet
6. Last thing i googled: I couldn’t remember how to say a specific time i think?? so i tried to google it to see if it would come back to me LMFAO
7. Current obsession: Green day and arcane ‼️‼️‼️
8: Looking forward to: my birthday and HOPEFULLY getting to see my bf at some point :33
Ten people I'd like to know better
1. Last song: Royal Pain by The Eels
2. Favorite color: I like all colors but generally prefer shades of purple
3. Last movie: Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl (2024)
4. Last book: Young Men In Love: A Queer Romance anthology (a series of beautiful comics, recommended!)
5. Sweet, spicy or savory: Savory
6. Last thing i googled: phenakistoscope (blame exams lol)
7. Current obsession: switching between Sherlock Holmes Chapter One, Stardew Valley and "now how do I get back into reading"
8. Looking forward to: well I was looking forward to the end of my exams and it is here 😌
Tags (+whoever sees this, feel free to ignore): @hey-sherry @fuckyeahfreeimmortal @onceinawhilemoon @spiteful-crow @queriesntheories @ambersky0319 @screw-u-vaanu @peonyblossom @anerdynerd @gutmeats
139 notes · View notes
choccy-milky · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
seb and clora working on baby #1 👶 🔞🔞!! NSFW !!🔞🔞
[poipiku]
[twitter]
564 notes · View notes
feelo-fick · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
chilaios telepathy compilation. btw.
also these ones arent telepathy i just think its fun that they defend eachother + are on the same page about alchohol :
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
kaiserouo · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
if ordan karris wanna complete that sentence does that mean he also likes us?
470 notes · View notes
iloveyoublue · 2 days ago
Note
actually i already posted this with everything i’m about to say in the tags but i’m having v strong emotions about this topic so i’m not gonna hide my words there anymore i wanna TALK about this shit
(side note i can't even describe the catharsis im feeling witnessing my fav tumblr creator openly speak on this issue and share my exact opinion, broke my inactivity streak to come back for this)
'the imagined possibility of your own pain should not be worth more to you than the lived reality of someone else's' LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK!!!! so few of the arguments i see are from genuine survivors of the topics in question, and so many of the arguments i see are DIRECTLY SPEAKING FOR THESE PEOPLE??????
as someone living through a genocide in real time and more personally being a victim of dv it is WILD to me that murder/extreme violence and constant fear/ threat of bodily harm is outside someone's idea of normal… i live in ENGLAND where we have strict gun laws + are not in a war zone + are a relatively safe country and yet i walk down the street to see photos of victims of local police brutality or mugging gone wrong or targeted violence against women. my deepest sympathy to anyone currently living in america because i can’t imagine the terror you are feeling with current events
also i'm shocked that what this person has taken from the debates on the subject is ‘wow they're gonna FORCE me to consume this content they're gonna MAKE me read about this : (‘ like ???????????? genuinely how do you make that leap?????? i am seriously confused and more than a little concerned for them because do you really have that little respect for your own peace of mind? are you so glued to your technology that you've lost fundamental human instinct of: oh no this is bad my anxiety response go brrrr, okay let's not look at this anymore
dont get me wrong, i have so much love to everyone who DOESNT want to read this kind of fiction - im sending you all the support and care in the world, and if you see something that makes you uncomfortable that sucks man, seriously. have a nice cup of tea and a brain bleaching cat video, call a friend or a therapist or even journal your thoughts out. but that doesn't give you the right to censor other people's reading material. ESPECIALLY not victims'.
i am not intending to shame ANYONE; whether you are disgusted by this kind of content, or comforted by this kind of content. what i AM intending to do is draw attention to the rise of censorship and the direct link that has to modern day fascism
regarding your post about people feeling uncomfortable with reading certain topics i think its quite the opposite of them not realizing its not a material reality. it actually feels too close to home, a bit too real (considering we hear and read about cases every day) and you are aware that it happen to you everyday so it makes you feel uncomfortable to think about. on the other hand topics like murder, war crimes, etc. most people are alienated from them feeling safe that it wont happen to them (now thats a thing that happens only in stories) and reading about doesn't spark the same type of panic.
but also even if that wasn't the case.. what do you think its supposed to happen when somone is uncomfortable? just keep reading, shoving discomfort down their throat because of other people? Yes i understand that there are victims who have survived it and i will try my best to accommodate them and treat them in the way they want to and i will even swallow my discomfort down and read about the experience but that wont change anything. i will still be afraid of the possibility that will happen to me, i will still squirm when i hear about another case and then try to avoid in the places where i go to enjoy myself (like ao3)
also in terms of victims i imagine that as much as there are some who would like to read and write about their experience there are other who would want to distance themselves from the memory. Isn't it just preference at the end of day. why do people must be guilt tripped to to read something they dont want to.
😭 this is of the most braindead annoying messages i’ve ever received on here i’m actually almost impressed. fucking obviously i am not suggesting that CSA victims read triggering material on purpose that would be insane (💀). but my post wasn’t about victims! i was in fact complaining about emptyhead non-survivors who say things precisely like this!
1. describing murder and war crimes as literally “now that’s something that only happens in stories!” is such a glaring indictment of your worldview… these things are realities for everyone living outside of the imperial core. even within the west, if you’re a transwoman of color, if you’re a DV victim, an addict, an unhoused person, or poc and interacting with police– you are not alienated from extreme violence! it’s very real & present experience! for you to say that reading about systematized violence is “safer” because it’s “less real” especially when we are in the middle of a genocide is literally stomach churning 😭. you should go donate to winter relief for gaza and never speak up again
2. not everything is about you! perhaps this is harsh but i do believe that if you haven’t experienced csa/sa (or been close to the issue), then reading about it cannot be “triggering” to you in the same way it would be for, say, someone with actual csa ptsd. you might feel uncomfortable, but you are not in danger of having a trauma response. sensitivity is beautiful, but i think in moments like these you could stand to be a little bit braver, and a little bit more sturdy. nothing fictional can hurt you. feeling discomfort and fear at the contents of a story is not the same as real pain- it is healthy to practice experiencing these emotions through the safe medium of fiction.
so much of this ask is painfully egotistic… but in a naive, almost endearing sort of way? you dismiss others experiences with the wave of a hand: “yes victims but what about my SQUIRMING”, “but what about the mere possibility it might happen to ME”! i want to remind you that i am a csa survivor complaining about the difficulty of discussing these subjects with non-survivors, and you are a non-survivor inserting yourself into this space to ask “what about MY discomfort?”…. well! terrible, violent, undoingly horrific events happen every day! it is not helpful to act like victims of SA are somehow uniquely traumatized in some special, singularly awful way. no “type” of trauma is inherently worse than any another. people survive and recover from all kinds of experiences, and i find this beautiful & empowering, and frequently the subject of great art. it is worth confronting your own personal discomfort (💀) with that art in order to sit with and face the lived reality of those experiences. doing so will help you develop a more complex and empathetic worldview.
not everything is about you! 🙂‍↕��� the imagined possibility of your own pain should not be worth more to you than the lived reality of someone else’s. this ask was exhausting let’s all read averno by louise gluck to calm down
33 notes · View notes
morii-moth · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
"this is me on day one of NO rendog !!"
1K notes · View notes
narcissisticpdcultureis · 1 month ago
Note
NPD culture fucking hates Jimmy from Mouthwashing
.
108 notes · View notes
fogwitchoftheevermore · 2 months ago
Text
I'm slowly making my way through a new project- editing the entirety of the album PUNCH by Autoheart to the Life Series.
I was originally planning to post all of the edits in order of the songs on the album, but I instead made the Lent one first and am too excited to keep it in my drafts any longer while I work on the first four songs of the album (especially since we're coming up on finals seasons and the amount of time I'll have to work on these is gonna plummet so fast). So instead, I'll be posting them as I make them and make a masterpost of them all in order at the end.
That being said, I hope you enjoy this! I'm really proud of it and a lot of work went into it.
107 notes · View notes
lovesickeros · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]
{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]
Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.
It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.
Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.
She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.
She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.
Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.
And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.
She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.
So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.
Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.
..A dangerous prize, too.
She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.
"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.
He looked out of breath, she noted.
The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.
He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.
"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."
Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.
But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.
So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.
If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.
Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.
What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..
The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.
So if not the prophecy, then what?
Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.
She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.
..A draw, perhaps.
The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.
She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.
Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.
She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.
She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.
"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."
All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.
With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.
Each piece had it's purpose.
Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.
She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.
It was almost too easy.
She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.
The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.
She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.
With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.
Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.
She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.
Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.
The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.
Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.
..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.
She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.
"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..
Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.
Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.
It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.
She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.
For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.
And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.
She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.
"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"
Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..
The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!
"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."
Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.
"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"
..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.
She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.
"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.
Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."
Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.
"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?
She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?
"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."
The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.
"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"
Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.
"Have you no answer?"
The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.
Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.
"I will kill them myself."
Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.
"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."
They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.
"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"
Did she?
"Will you help me?"
She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.
"..Yes."
#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin impact sagau#self aware genshin impact#fic tag#imposter au#genshin cult au#genshin impact cult au#arlecchino#lyney#furina#you do NOT wanna know what i got put thru writing this fic#trying 2 find out where arle was in the few times we DO see her and going down a rabbit hole of fuck fontaine and its layout actually!#I spent like 3 hours looking it up and checking in game it gives me a migraine thinking abt it. ew#anyway trying to write a really smart character is surprisingly difficult when ur as dumb as rocks#also used an actual chess match for this and gave myself an even worse migraine trying 2 make sure i didnt repeat moves or smth#furina doesnt get a spotlight yet just imagine her sitting in the corner trembling like a wet kitten you found on the side of the road#arlecchino goes thru a crisis more at 11#shes a tired single dad shes isnt getting paid enough for this okay#hands u a fic over half the length of the other THREE PARTS#ehe :]#is arle actually on ur side??? is she gonna double cross u???? who knows!!!!!#shes unpredictable she might stab u for funsies#anyway im gonna go nap in a ditch now this took SO LONGGGGG OH MY G-D#also just think acolytes who arent buddy buddy w reader and even resent them is so tasty#bc how r they supposed 2 know reader was a human vibing 5 minutes before their got eebied 2 teyvat..#reader gotta roll up their sleeves and get 2 WORK sometimes murder IS okay#they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more#a group can be g-d (just got here) their dragon (neuvi) their cat (archon) their dog (wrio) and their wolf (arle)
473 notes · View notes
thapunqueen · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Since i havent had any time to draw anything in the past month or so heres just a complete DUMP of random fallout shit ive made for yall as a uhhh my bad therell be art soon..maybe
372 notes · View notes