#nothing suspicious just using you as a warm up~

[jelzorz]

202.

Corvus considers himself to be a pretty good tracker. He's just always been good at noticing the little things: broken twigs and disturbed soil and changes in the calls of native birds and such; things that take practise to see and an amount of training to hear. It's not that surprising, honestly, that he notices the change in Soren's behaviour before Soren ever does himself.

It's been how long now? Eight? Almost nine years? Terry's been with them for seven of those, and they've been out and about and adventuring the whole time so of course he notices the way Soren's eyes have started to wander whenever they're in Katolis.

It's subtle at first: a little smile here, a lingering touch there, the slightest pink in his cheeks whenever he and Opeli find themselves sitting next to each other in a meeting or at a meal. Corvus says nothing about it because it's not his place to say, and Soren is happy, which matters more than the little sting of jealousy that creeps unwantedly into his chest. He'd caught himself once hoping she'd just turn him down and had hated himself a little for it: Opeli is his friend too, and cleric or not, she deserves happiness just the same. If whatever is happening between them brings them joy, then Corvus would be remiss in wishing for anything else.

It's better now. He's grown used to it, and there's always something about the castle and its surrounds that Terry wants to know, so Corvus obliges him, and it's nice to hang around and just talk, no mission, no recon, no silly jokes.

Today is the same. The Yule season has settled over the city comfortably, and the festival the common folk throw every year is in full swing. The air is cold but it smells like cinnamon and spun sugar, the trees are lit with twinkling balls of Sunfire magic, the snow is soft and piles like pillows on every available surface, and Soren is wheedling Opeli (as always) to join them for the evening festivities.

Corvus hides his smile because they all know the answer is yes. Opeli has never had any resolve when it comes to Soren, and the facade of being stern and unyielding stopped fooling the three of them years ago, but it's Terry who intervenes.

"Actually, Corvus and I were thinking about going to the river," he says. "I was told I'd get to learn how to skate this year."

Opeli raises an eyebrow at Soren. "Then I can't very well tag along, can I?"

Soren flounders, very poorly disguising his disappointment. "What—I mean—Did I say that?"

"Oh, you didn't," says Terry. "Corvus did. Remember?"

"Um." Corvus' cheeks warm, because yes, he did, weeks ago, and he's somewhat ashamed that he'd forgotten. "Yes. Of course."

"Problem solved then," says Terry, clapping his hands. "You two enjoy the festival. We'll see you when you get back."

Opeli flushes a little. Soren flushes a lot.

"Oh," says Opeli. "I was under the assumption I'd be joining all of you."

"We're here for the month," says Terry, waving her off. "We can hang out anytime. Go have fun."

Soren flushes more. "You mean, like. Alone? At a festival?"

"Yeah," says Terry, giving him a look. Corvus has to fight back a laugh. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not," says Opeli primly, her recovery always graceful. "I suppose I'll go and get my cloak." She eyes Terry suspiciously as she rises, but she touches Soren's arm before she goes. Soren mouths a thank you at Terry when she's not looking and offers them both a grin and a thumbs up.

He follows her to the stairwell leaving Corvus and Terry alone at the table, and they glance at each other and burst into laughter at once. The air is warm. Corvus' cheeks are sore from smiling all night. Terry leans back in his chair, his elbow brushing lightly against Corvus' arm.

"You'd think they were teenagers," snorts Terry.

"They're doing their best," says Corvus. "And y'know, strictly speaking, it's a little more complicated than how it looks, Opeli being a cleric and all but. Yes. They're ridiculous."

"You'll still teach me to skate though, right?"

"Yes, of course," chuckles Corvus heartily. "We can go now if you like."

"I would like that," says Terry, getting up. He grins at Corvus, and for a moment the world stills, and Corvus feels his heart do something funny, something unexpected, and when Terry touches his arm, it does it again.

Oh, he thinks. That's new. Or has it been something that's been happening for a while?

Corvus finds he doesn't know.

Perhaps there are little things he doesn't notice. Perhaps that's not so bad.

[tapakah0]

[syluslovies]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ The LADS Boys Are Top-Tier Eaters ੈ✩‧₊˚

How would each of the boys eat you out?

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Rafayel is as desperate for pussy as they come. For your pussy, in particular. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, what you’re currently doing, what he’s currently doing, or anything in between. If he needs to taste you, he is going to taste you. He likes to start by spreading you out with his big hands, massaging pretty thighs in his grip. He’ll swipe his suspiciously (inhumanly) long tongue around the outer parts of your pretty pink cunt, savoring every lick of your cummy pussy. When he’s had his fill, he opens your little hole up using his tongue, fucking you open on the thickness and length of it. He won’t stop until you’re scratching and clawing at the hair on his head, humping your hips into his waiting mouth. And even then, this would only serve as preparation for his cock later on.

Xavier, oh Xavier- he’s an eager puppy who loves nothing more than to absolutely devour your slick pussy. All fucking day. All fucking night. If he doesn’t have his fat cock in you, then he’s got his entire face buried in your heat. He loves spreading your lips wide apart so he can see everything; so he can play with that little button in ways that he know will make you whimper and whine, so he can see just how tight your pussy is for him- he likes to stalk his prey a little. He eats your pussy in fast, sloppy strokes, moaning high whilst sucking vigorously on your clit. He fucks you open on his fingers; he knows he has too, he’s just much too big for you. In between strokes of his tongue, he whispers praises into the folds of your sensitive cunt. “That’s a good pussy. My good fucking pussy.”

Zayne loves to watch you. You’re his most prized possession, surpassing any medical achievements he might’ve achieved throughout his outstanding career; why wouldn’t he enjoy watching you, no matter the context. Including at night, before he eats your sweet little cunt, where he makes you finger yourself in preparation for him while he watches you. He watches the way your small fingers slip and slide around the slick mess of your cunt, looking for any type of relief. He’s not able to watch for long, though, as after a while, he’ll copy that same slip and slide of your fingers on your cunt with his tongue, eagerly licking through your hot pussy lips. He eats you slow and deep, like he’s making out with your cunt, like he’s making love to it. Your warm pussy against his tongue heats even the iciest parts of him.

If you asked Sylus how he’d want to die (if he could), he’d say buried in between his girl’s thighs. He absolutely loves when you ride his face, when you completely bury him in your pussy and its juices. The only thing he ever wants to smell is the scent of your little pussy. The only thing he ever wants to taste is the taste of your wet cunt. The only thing he wants to feel is the skin of your pretty thighs clenched in his huge grip while you grind against his open mouth. He absolutely adores it when you rub against his face frantically, making a beautiful mess of him with your slick and his spit. Three orgasms later, he sucks your cunt t’il you’re gasping for air and begging for your fourth. When you’re both finished, he likes to stick two big fingers in your hole to scoop out what’s sure to be a collection of your cum and his own, only to fuck those large digits into your mouth. He can’t let such a precious substance go to waste, can he?

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(

[moonstruckme]

request: was thinking about that one video that’s like “my wife, she’ll get upset if she sees you touching me like that on my chest” “i am your wife” and then the heart monitor starts going crazy and that put a doctor remus idea in my head after r gets out of surgery/is on anesthesia for something or other

Thanks for requesting!

cw: hospital, mention of surgery

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 855 words

Lots of people would probably be happy to have their significant other visit them at work, but as it turns out, Remus really doesn’t like it. He’s used to seeing patients post-op, and yet somehow when it’s you it feels sad, all those tubes and wires connected to his girl. The fluorescent lighting turns your complexion wan and the wary frown on your lips as a nurse checks your vitals makes Remus’ heart feel like a bruise. 

It helps some when you notice his entry and they stretch into a dopey smile instead. 

“Hi, dove.” His voice is soft and smitten, an automatic reaction to seeing you that he’s already heard the new residents commenting on in the break room. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay.” You tug at the sheets on your bed. Ball them in your fists like you might be nervous. “My stomach hurts a little.” 

“That’s normal,” Remus assures you, even as his stomach dips in sympathy. He sits on the edge of your bed, taking your hand and beginning to draw tight circles into the inside of your wrist. “If it starts to hurt worse, or badly at all, you should let me know, alright?” 

“Okay.” Your voice has quieted slightly, your eyes following the motion of his thumb on your skin. You glance at the nurse as though checking if she sees. Remus feels his lips tip up bemusedly. 

“Everything alright?” he asks the nurse.

She smiles at the both of you, passing him a clipboard. “She’s stable, ready to move when you’d like.” 

“Thanks,” he says, reading over your vitals quickly after she leaves. He sets the clipboard down and gives your hand a squeeze. If your heart monitor gives a quick beep, he pretends not to notice. “You’re all set, lovely girl. We’ll get you to your own room in just a bit.” 

You nod, not seeming to hear him. You look to be gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Remus says gently, thumbing it free. Your eyes widen, and he drops his thumb to your chin, looking you in the eyes. “Is something the matter?”

You rub your lips together hesitantly. It’s normal to have a small fever after surgery, but your face feels suspiciously warm. “I just, um, I have a boyfriend.” 

Remus feels his face split into an irrepressible grin. He’d been wondering how the anesthesia would affect you. “Yeah, dove,” he agrees, delighted, “I know you do.” 

“I don’t…” Your eyes dart to where his thumb still rests on your chin, your shoulders gravitating towards your ears. “I think it would upset him if he knew you were touching me like this.” 

Truly, this could not be any better. Remus wishes he’d brought a video camera like James wanted him to. “I am your boyfriend, sweetheart.” 

Your expression freezes in place, but your heart monitor starts beeping loudly. Your eyes dart to it, alarm and embarrassment worsening, and Remus laughs, dropping his hand from your chin in favor of rubbing your shoulder until both you and the machine calm down. 

“You?” you ask. You appear nothing short of flabbergasted. 

“Yes.” He brings your hand to his smiling lips, kissing your knuckles as if to prove it. “Why, are you surprised?” 

“You’re serious,” you check. Remus has the opportunity to make a joke here, but he worries it’d only confuse you more. 

“I am,” he says. 

“But you’re so handsome.”

Another laugh startles out of him. “And what do you think you are? Of course,” he gives your knuckles another brief peck just to see your eyes flare again, “I would love you no matter how you looked, but you’re a far cry from hideous yourself.” 

You look taken aback by this news as well. Remus is half tempted to find you a mirror. 

Then you ask, voice soft as down feathers, “You love me?” 

Something in Remus’ chest goes all warm and mushy. “I do,” he says sincerely. “I love you so much, sweetheart, sometimes I don’t know what to do with it all.” 

You smile until your eyelashes kiss, and he can’t resist cupping your face again, smoothing his thumb along the skin of your cheek. 

“So that’s why you’re here?” you ask. 

“Well,” he hesitates, “yes, but I’m also here because I work here.” 

Your eyebrows raise. Your gaze dips to his white coat as if remembering it for the first time in a while. “Oh. You’re a doctor and my boyfriend?” 

“That’s right.” He squints at you amusedly. “Did you think I just snuck in here in a white coat so I could see you?” 

“My boyfriend is a doctor.” You don’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular, perhaps just asking the universe for confirmation. 

Remus decides to get back to business. “Right again, dove. I think it’s about time we get you to your room, yeah? Anything else I can do for you, anything you need?” 

“Nope.” You lay your head back on the pillow, looking somehow more dazed than when he’d come in. “I think I’m set. Like, probably for life.”

[thestarlightexpress]

Kinktober 2024: Day 2 - Somnophilia - Azriel x Reader

TW: sexual themes including overstimulation and dubcon

word count: 1.48k

NSFW under the cut

The sharp wind and misty rain pelted Azriel’s face as his long flight back from the Continent came to a close. He spent the last week surveilling Koschei’s lake for any useful intel and had unsurprisingly come home with nothing. After 8 straight hours of flying, all he wanted to do was collapse in his fluffy bed and sleep for a whole day. 

He neared the House of Wind, feeling the drowsiness and pull to his bed grow even stronger as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Finally landing, his tense and taut muscles were able to gradually start relaxing. As he slowly wandered down the hallway towards his room, his ears perked up at the sounds floating towards him from a few doors down. Muffled moans and something that suspiciously sounded like a headboard striking the wall. Cassian and Nesta must be at it again.

He slowly opened his door and was dismayed to find an obstacle in between him and his comfy bed - you, laying on your back, starfished right in the middle of his bed. You were dead asleep despite gripping an open book in your hand. Knowing he was set to come back tonight, you had done your best to wait up for him but evidently couldn’t resist the coziness of his bed. 

A soft smile ghosted his lips as his shadows softly shut the door behind him. He pried the book from your hands, setting it on the nightstand before softly kissing your forehead and heading to the restroom. He quickly shed his sweat-soaked leathers before running a quick bath. His sore muscles sang in relief at the warm water. As he lay in the bath, the light and sweet smell of your arousal drifted through the open door. 

His shadows slinked back into the restroom, whispering to him the name of your book. It was one he and Nesta had been reading a few weeks earlier in their secret smutty book club. Knowing exactly what his sweet little mate had been reading had his blood swiftly rushing to his cock. He had intended to just quickly wash off and curl around you as best he could and go to sleep, but he suddenly found himself changing those plans. 

Azriel hurried to dry himself off and slip on his sleep clothes before wandering back into his bedroom. The forceful waves of your arousal nearly knocked him over. You were still in a deep sleep with a blissful smile on your face. The skimpy camisole you were wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination, showing off your perky nipples. Azriel’s gaze raked over your chest and down to your high-waisted shorts that barely covered your ass. He inched closer and closer to you, feeling his now hard cock straining against his sweatpants.

He crawled between your legs, soaking up the smell of your need as you continued dreaming. Azriel slowly gripped your shorts and pulled them down your legs. He was almost on the verge of drooling at the sight of your slick, pink pussy bared in front of him. He trailed up your legs, leaving warm open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Azriel placed a soft peck on the tip of your clit before licking a slow strip up from your entrance. His rough hands reached up to pull your thighs further apart, spreading your cunt for him.

Azriel softly suckled on your clit, sending a new wave of slick sliding down towards your entrance. He shifted down and dove into your pussy, licking up your syrupy arousal. A gentle moan slipped from your mouth as your hips shifted up and chased his mouth. He moved back up and his lips wrapped around your clit while he slipped two fingers inside you. He felt your body shifting above him as he pumped his fingers inside you, stretching you out for him. A small hand landed on his head and laced through his damp hair. 

“Well, this is certainly a way to wake me up.”, your rough, sleep-ridden voice drifted down towards him. Azriel glanced back up at you from between your legs, finding you propped up on your elbows. His free hand grasped your wrist and moved your hand to rest on your stomach. Azriel sent some shadows to weave through your hair and rest around your neck and shoulders. “Go back to sleep, my love. Just let me make you feel good.” He gripped your thigh and dove back into your inviting cunt. Releasing a needy moan, you laid back on the bed and swiftly drifted back to sleep.

Your slick continued to drip between your legs, soaking Azriel’s face and the sheets below you. Even while asleep, his skilled mouth quickly brought you to your first orgasm of the night. Your back arched and your breaths quickened into soft pants as you came in his mouth. The intoxicating taste of your release had his hips bucking up, grinding his swollen cock into the edge of the bed, desperate for a sliver of relief. 

Azriel groaned into your heat as he felt his precum drip down his cock. His fingers inched further inside of you, pressing against the spot that always made you see stars and beg for more. He glanced up at you and grazed his teeth against your sensitive clit when he heard your breath hitch. He promptly brought you to your second and third orgasm until your legs were shaking around his head. Your hand drifted back down to his hair and softly pulled him up from your cunt. Drifting in and out of consciousness, you managed to string together a mumbled plea. “Too much, Az.”, your soft voice lowly murmured.

He rose up and trailed his hands over your body, taking off your camisole in the process. Azriel hovered over you and rested his head on your bare chest. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to get carried away,” You sleepily hummed and cradled his head in your hand. His head drifted up and he nosed into the crook of your neck. “But I think you can cum one more time for me, yeah?” You roughly bit your lip and rapidly nodded against him. You whined at the anticipation of feeling him again. The Mother had certainly given you the horniest male in existence for a mate. His scarred hands gripped your hips in the way he knew you loved as he gently flipped you onto your stomach. Azriel crawled off the bed and stood at the foot of the bed. He outright moaned as he loosened the laces of his pants before pulling them off to release his leaky cock from its confines. He couldn’t hide his smile at the sight of your head resting on top of your arms, already asleep again.

Azriel loved many things about his sleepy girl, particularly how cuddly and pliant you get. But this, this was something you had always talked about doing that Azriel hadn’t been lucky enough to experience. You both loved the idea of him taking you as you slept, letting him use you solely for his pleasure. His cock bobbed in the air as he stared at your supple ass, debating about how he wanted to take you. He crawled on top of you and sat on your thighs a few inches behind your ass. He gripped your cheeks before using one hand to guide the tip of his member through your soaked folds. Azriel angled your hips up towards him before sliding into you and sheathing his cock fully inside of your warm, welcoming heat.

You both groaned at the stretch, Azriel much louder than you. He didn’t even need to give you time to adjust as your body was relaxed enough by your previous slumber. He grasped your waist and pulled his hips back to thrust into you. He had been so pent up over the past week that it didn’t take him much to get close. Getting lost in his own pleasure, he roughly took your tight cunt. Your light moans could barely be heard over his hips slapping into your ass.

Azriel felt his abs straining as he started to approach his release. He shifted his legs further up the bed and caged your torso under his chest. His thrusts started to get harder and erratic as he felt you tighten around them.

Azriel bit down a moan as his hips stilled and he spilled into you, your walls spasming around him as you came for the fourth time. After taking a few minutes to catch his breath, he slowly clambered off the bed and slipped his pants back on before laying down next to you. He gingerly turned you onto your side and pulled you into his chest. Not even five minutes later, he found his chin resting on your shoulder and felt himself pulled into sleep by your comforting warmth.

Kinktober Taglist:

@honethatty12 @sweet-chai-amore @helo1281917 @scarsandallaz @thatacotargirl @a-courtof-azriel @lmadness @riorgail

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

HIHI I LOVE UR WORK!!

Could u please do the kny Hashira with s/o who is like, the funniest mf to walk the planet. Like, they know how to hit their humour PERFECTLY and they just makes them laugh so much!!!

(Hey hey, Anon! I really hope I pleased you with the request, it was a little difficult to come up with hcs so I hope you enjoyed. Have a nice day!)

Hashira w/ a Funny S/O

(Characters Included- All the Hashira)

(Warning: Nothing, just fluff and GN! Reader)

🔥Kyojuro Rengoku🔥

- Not afraid to laugh at your jokes, he makes it known that he thinks it’s funny. You can hear him laughing from a mile away.

- Sometimes you make him laugh so hard that he slaps his knee or throws his head back.

- Will tell you afterwards that his ribs and cheeks hurt from laughing so much, but he’ll still be smiling.

🌪️Sanemi Shinazugawa🌪️

- When you first made him laugh, he was surprised at first since it was rare for him to laugh, let alone laugh at someone’s joke.

- Though when you keep on making him laugh he gets suspicious. “What are they on about?” He often thinks to himself.

- One time when you made him laugh, he chuckled louder than usual and it caught you off guard so you were just staring at him all starstruck. Then he got embarrassed and turned away from you, telling you to stop staring.

🪨Gyomei Himejima🪨

- He finds your funny personality very endearing.

- Loves to hear any new jokes you come up with and praises you on your talent.

- If you’re having a laughing fit because of your own jokes, he’ll chuckle before smiling at you softly.

- When he found out that you could even make Sanemi and Obanai laugh he was glad that you could make his fellow Hashira happy.

🦋Shinobu Kocho🦋

- She admires how well and quickly you can make others bust out in laughter. It warms her heart.

- Shinobu’s laugh is always low and giggly. You love it. (I love it too)

- It feels weird to her to genuinely smile this much but she doesn’t mind it and learns to grow used to it when she’s with you. (Kanae above approves of you)

🍡Mitsuri Kanroji🍡

- You make her laugh so much that her face gets red. She always tries to cover it too.

- (If you’re a Hashira) She tries so hard not to laugh at one of your little jokes during the Hashira meetings. (Ultimately, she fails but the other Hashira can’t blame her)

- For the love of Mitsuri, please do not make her laugh while she’s eating or drinking something unless you wanna make her choke (and not in a good way)

🌊Giyuu Tomioka🌊

- Before meeting you, it was extremely rare to make him laugh. He probably never even laughed since Sabito’s passing. Then he met you and changed everything.

- Whenever he laughs he doesn’t laugh for very long or loud, mainly he chuckles.

- Also fun fact, he doesn’t understand dark humor, he’ll be more concerned than anything.

🔊Uzui Tengen🔊

- He is the type of person who playfully hits your back whenever you make him laugh.

- You also most likely loss roughly 30% of your hearing from his loud laughter.

- Whenever he sees you making Hina, Makio, and Suma laugh he will softly smile at all of his partners having a good time.

🐍Iguro Obanai🐍

- When he first met you he already heard about you from the other Hashira like Rengoku and Uzui. He referred to you as “The Laughing Person” because you make everyone laugh.

- Like Tomioka, he mainly chuckles, but after he’s done laughing and sees you still laughing at yourself he’ll smile to himself.

☁️Muichiro Tokito☁️

- He grows fond of you over time. Before he regained his memories he would think of you as an otter because they say that it represents laughter and joy. (I think it represents that, I looked it up so it might not be correct)

- After he regained his memories, he would be much more expressive when he’s laughing.

- Muichiro always looks forward to your jokes everyday.

Masterlist

[actiniumwrites]

if you're still doing requests: maybe one of the genshin guys finding out you use their card in tcg? scenario or headcanons is fine, and i have no preference for who you want to write! (i will say i'm fixated in the fontanians rn though)

the perfect pair

synopsis: their reaction to finding out you use their card in tcg

characters: tighnari, cyno, neuvillette, lyney, and wriothesely x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: nothing besides fluff and cyno being an actual maniac for tcg (he’s probably a little ooc but i think it’s funny)

notes: i’m ngl i totally forgot about tcg 😭 i played it SO much when it came out and then barely touched it unless it was for the primos. i gotta finish those achievements still 💀 also i know not every one of these characters has a tcg card but we can just pretend :) thank you for the request!

part two

Tighnari:

Because he doesn’t play tcg very often — at least not as much as Cyno does — he doesn’t find out right away

When he does, it happens at a casual dinner between you, him, and all your friends after Collei asks to play so she can try out some of her new cards

Cyno enthusiastically agrees and you all set up after you finish eating which is when Alhaitham, whose eyes never miss anything, spots a suspiciously similarly looking guy on one of your three player cards

“You seriously have your boyfriend as one of your cards?” he’ll ask with a disbelieving smile, as if he can’t comprehend why you’d have it

You smile and lift it up, proudly nodding as you list off the card’s strengths and the nice backing it came with. You don’t fail the mention the bonus that it comes with your boyfriend’s face on it

Tighnari feels his cheeks warm in slight embarrassment as he turns away in his chair. Even so, he can’t help but find it really cute that you have his card

He even tells his friends to shut up and that they’re just jealous they don’t have his card and that they wish their significant others had them as cards

It actually shuts some of them up, shockingly

Meanwhile, Cyno is in utter disbelief that such a card exists and will try to buy it off of you so he can complete his collection (you don’t let him have it though)

Cyno:

Ah the king of tcg himself

He has the most dramatic reaction for sure. Not even in the sense that he’s embarrassed, or teasing, or whatnot. He’s just straight up shocked

Slams his hands down on the table and his jaw drops as he stands up. You giggle on the other side of the table at his reaction, watching him desperately try to find words

“Where did you even get that?!”

You swear you only see him this expressive when it comes to tcg

“I don’t know, I just found it at a local store when I was passing by,” you shrug carelessly, as if you aren’t going to completely destroy him with his own card in about five minutes

After he gets over the initial awe of seeing himself in his favorite game in the entire world, he’s actually very internally excited, although you don’t get to see that side

He thinks it’s cool that you like using his card and is honored that you’d even choose it in the first place, especially with only three slots (he’s also just happy he’s a main card and not a buff lmao)

And when you do destroy him, he slides you a pen and paper and politely demands you give him the name of the seller so he can track them down tomorrow

Neuvillette:

He doesn’t even play the game so initially, he’s extremely confused why you have a playing card with his face on it

“Fascinating. I did not know they made such games. Is my card good for playing?” He’s genuinely intrigued by it and you find it rather endearing

Because he doesn’t understand it though, he doesn’t necessarily feel any certain way about it. He’s too caught up in the game to realize what it means for you to be using his card

“Yeah, it’s pretty powerful, but it’s representative of real life so that’s expected given your position.”

At that, he feels very flattered. His cheeks will warm a bit, casting a light blush over his features when you speak so proudly of him

He’ll even ask if you have a card of your own hoping to take a bit of the attention off him when he begins to feel more excited about it

You shake your head no and explain that it’s unlikely given people don’t know enough about you to make a full card of you or to sell it

Will later get one made for you without you knowing, only one singular copy worth a priceless amount just so you could have one to match him too <3

Lyney:

Smug little shit

You’re playing with him and his siblings after he invited you over for a date. Lynette and Freminet were bored so you both offered to play a game, to which tcg was suggested by Freminet

You’d played only a few times with them before, which is why you didn’t realize what was such a big deal when you pulled out a card with your boyfriend on it, entirely forgetting it was new and you hadn’t used it with them yet

“Is that…is that Lyney?” Lynette asks, stifling a laugh as she inspects the card. Freminet leans a little closer too in order to get a better look.

And it indeed is, Lyney confirms for himself

“Woah no way, I didn’t know they made this,” he smiles at it, picking it up and spinning it in his hand before smirking at you, “I knew you couldn’t resist this handsome face, even on a playing card.”

You smack his arm faster than Lynette can and snatch it back out of his hand. Lyney pouts and slouches down into his seat as his siblings inquire as to where you got it

Lyney can’t stop staring at you as you tell them, his chest beating faster and faster as you embarrassedly ramble on about why you got it in the first place and how you thought it was cute like a little keepsake

Even though you’d been dating for some quite some time, you both managed to keep surprising one another and falling in love all over again, even if it was over silly things like tcg cards

Lynette sighs as she notices the lovestruck look in her brother’s eyes, “He’s doomed.”

Wriothesley:

He’s weirdly calm about the whole thing. Not like he’d be over dramatic or anything, but I don’t think he’d be as teasing or shocked by it like the others or like some may assume

Wriothesley thinks it’s really cool when he finds it in your collection one day after you left your card case in his office by accident, a few cards slid out with his face popping out on one tucked away in the middle

He’ll examine it before a gentle smile pulls at his lips at the thought of you using it to play against others

He’s almost proud, in a way

When you walk into his office a ten minutes later, realizing you had left your cards and a few other of your things on his desk, you stumble upon him looking at it

“Oh, uh you weren’t supposed to see that yet,” you say awkwardly as you pause in your step and fiddle with your hands, embarrassed he had found it. It was a somewhat new card and you actually wanted to show it to him later

But Wriothesley doesn’t care. Hell, if he had known there was a card out there with him on it, he would’ve bought it for you a long time ago

He’ll just kiss you. A nice, sweet, and to the point kiss as he slides the card back in your hand before pulling away and staring down at you, “You’re cute.”

[annievrse]

origami flowers

sebastian x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb

you hear a familiar voice call your name as you trudge down the hallway of weston college, your shoes clicking against the concrete floor. you're not sure where you're going; being the faux nurse of the school while ciel and sebastian figure out why children are going missing gives you more free time than you're used to. but with no need to go to the infirmary, you've been exploring the campus.

pausing mid-step and spinning, your eyes widen when you see ciel running towards you.

"young master?" your voice goes up an octave in surprise. "what happened?" you ask, your voice sharp with concern.

the younger boy pants with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. "we have an... issue..."

you glance behind you to check nobody is coming and lean down—it's a good thing everybody is in class. "where's sebastian?"

ciel gives you a worried look and stands straight, his hand wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "that's precisely the problem... i don't know."

furrowing your brows, you sigh and stride past your master. ciel's calls of your name fall on deaf ears as you make a beeline for your infirmary. "i apologise, young master. follow me."

ciel shakes his head in disbelief at the random demand but follows you nonetheless, his steps quickening to catch up to you.

"shouldn't you be in class?" you tease, turning the corner.

ciel rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance. "i was, but i broke the quill i was using, and i was sent to my dorm to retrieve another."

"i see," you smirk, trying to hold back your giggle. "and did this broken quill have anything to do with the fact that you haven't seen sebastian since last night?"

"perhaps..." he eyes you suspiciously. and then his face slackens and he glares at you. "you know where he is."

you wave your hand flippantly. "i have an idea."

fishing the key to your temporary office out of your blazer pocket, you slide it into the keyhole and twist.

and low and behold, ciel's butler sits hunched over your desk.

ciel lets out a strangled sound and steps into the clinic. "what the devil are you doing in here?"

"my lord," sebastian raises his head in surprise, something foreign to both you and your young master.

sighing, you approach him, watching his hands fold paper delicately.

ciel just shakes his head at the pile of origami flowers overflowing onto the floor next to sebastian. "playing with paper, are we?"

you notice what ciel does a moment later, your cheeks warming at the sheer amount of work he had done. "seb..."

sebastian stands, paper flowers falling from his lap onto the floor as his hand comes to rest on his chest. "i apologise, my lord, i did not realise the time."

he doesn't meet your gaze as you pick up a pink flower and twirl it between your fingers.

ciel narrows his eyes but says nothing at the sight.

"i was unaware i was occupied for this long, my lord. i will get to making the pastries for afternoon tea shortly."

ciel shakes his head, turning toward the door. "no need. they are no longer required. i will handle the situation myself."

sebastian nods despite knowing ciel cannot see. "indeed."

"just be in your office tonight so we can prepare for soma's arrival."

lowering his head, sebastian bows. "yes, my lord."

and when the door to your clinic closes, sebastian's hand returns to his side. "i saw one of the students making them," he gestures to the flowers. "do you like them?"

you smile and nod. "they're incredible, sebastian."

leaning over your desk, he gathers his creations, and before your eyes, they transform into a bouquet. your eyes widen at the sight, and you look up at him. sebastian's cheeks are dusted pink, though you deduce it to the lighting because he doesn't show such emotion.

"these are for you," sebastian mutters, handing you the bunch.

your breath gets caught in your throat before you whisper, "thank you."

a smirk pulls at the corner of sebastian's lips, and he nods once. "you're welcome, dearest."

you turn away from his piercing gaze, grasping the flowers in your arms. "next time you stay in my bed, don't become so distracted from your duties that ciel has to come to me to find you."

this time, sebastian's lips morph into a smug smile. "of course. it won't happen again."

and when you put the origami flowers into an empty vase, you know he's running through all the scenarios where he could do exactly that once more.

[xazse]

Girly pop hear me out school jock scaramouche with childe’s naive sister reader 😟🤭

“DUMB VIRGINS”

Jock Scaramouche x Naive!VirginFemReader

Warnings: Nsfw, Naive!Reader, Virgin!Reader,Fem!Reader, nipplepulling, Pervert!Scara, mean!scara, not proofread, Scara is only worried about himself in this, risky sex, no condom, no foreplay: only kissing used as foreplay, cumming inside.

Notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, THIS REALLY HAD ME THINKING BUT THATS NOT AN EXCUSE SO I APOLOGIZE DEEPLY I HOPE UR STILL AROUND TO ENJOY IT! And also how do you guys like the new setup?

Childe had made sure everyone knew you were off limits for anything, props to Childe for being so popular. Scaramouche wonders why he wouldn’t wanna share his popularity with his little sister, well adopted sister but the way Childe describes you you’re practically his angel, even though you’re an adopted sister he still showers you with love. You’re a girl who stays to herself and should stay to herself. When Childe begins talking about you he doesn’t stop, going on for a good hour about how sweet you are, how he can never deny you of his wallet, your considerate nature, he just downright adores you.

Scaramouche has interacted with you a few times, you’re a cute shy thing, everytime he’s over Childe’s house you make an effort to say your greetings then go right back up to your room. He feels like he might just have an overblown ego but he can see the way you look at him, the way you avert your gaze when talking to him, it really is adorable.

From the little glances you steal Scara has decided he wants you, and it’s bad, so bad he finds himself wanting at night, wanting to ruin and destroy you, he wants to corrupt and fill your head with needless lies sprinkled with some truths.

So he makes an effort to always come over when Childe invites him, only invites because Childe isn’t stupid he’ll eventually catch on if Scaramouche always asks to come over, sometimes he even has to decline just to take the extra step to ensure Childe doesn’t become suspicious, it hurts his heart when he can’t see your inviting smile.

One evening when Childe does invite Scaramouche over for dinner and a movie, he obliges, thinking nothing of it because often times Childe does cook for the both of them on movie nights, but never did he expect to see you joining the two of them.

Whilst Childe is distracting himself with cooking you plop yourself only a few spots away from Scaramouche, his eyes wander over your attire, choosing to opt with a loose tank top, and some shorts, he decides then and there he’ll try something with you, it’s already evident you want him just as badly even if you haven’t verbally said it.

Both of your eyes meet for a second but he doesn’t look away this time, instead he pats the spot beside him and urges you over, you look towards the kitchen, Childe seems to be in his own world with his awful singing.

You slide over, your knee just barely brushing against his, he doesn’t deem that nearly close enough and fills in the gap of space, he’s bold when he starts to feel up the fat of your thigh, rubbing slowly and sincerely, a slight hitch in your breath eggs him on to slip his fingers In between your thighs but making sure to not overwhelm and touch you “there” immediately. The area around you both feels so warm and tense, like a thick cloud of lust slowly devouring the both of you, Scaramouche grips your cheeks and reels you in for a kiss, your first ever kiss. He’s slow at first, firmly making sure to keep his eyes on the kitchen, he presses his tongue onto yours, you clearly weren’t expecting tongue so early so an attempt to pull back is met with him holding your neck tight while he takes away your ability to breath properly.

He’s so messy with the kiss, pulling back only to force you right back in, even when drool starts to seep from the corner of your mouth he doesn’t let you go. Whines are leaving your lips in hushed intervals, out of the corner of his eye Scara can see how you’re rubbing your thighs together, trying to relieve the slight throb of your little clit, he likes this, likes seeing you so defenseless and obedient. He finally deems his bullying enough and lets you go fully.

Loud coughs fill the room, enough for Childe to step out with a worried expression and seeing Scara patting your back.

“Just a coughing fit, nothing to worry about” Scara speaks for you while rubbing the small of your back.

“Alright, you two can come eat now, just finished up plating everything.” Childe says with a beaming smile and walks back into the kitchen.

You meet scaras eyes and a big mocking sneer is on his face, he pinches your nipple hard before getting up and going to the kitchen.

Dinner is filled with Childes bolstering voice as he cracks joke after joke, with Scaramouche urging him to stop and shut up. He surprisingly ignores you the entire dinner, you know he can feel how impatient and needy you are, you give a virgin a taste of something good and they want more, even if it’s something as simple as kissing.

After dinners wrapped up and plates are cleaned, Childe insists he needs a shower, your shy eyes steal glances at Scara every so often, hinting at exactly what the two of you can do, he’s quick to give you that look back, but his is a little darker.

As soon as Childe departs it feels as though all the air is sucked from the room, you haven’t looked over properly at him once. He’s so close you can feel every breath he takes. He begins with raking his fingers up and down your shoulders, sliding up to your thin spaghetti straps, you’re expecting him to stop, to give you a moment to breathe: this is your first time after all, your head is spinning in a million directions.

He doesn’t give you a signal or anything before he’s tugging the straps down to expose your cute bralette, he deems that useless and tugs that off your shoulders as well. A gasp makes its way towards your lips and your attempt to cover yourself is met with him gripping your wrists firmly. He stares down at them for a minute, admiring just how pretty they are. He wants to take you as you are now, on display and vulnerable, while your brother is completely ignorant, but he knows he has limited time.

He knows what he’s about to do is bad, possibly risky and dangerous but he’s also not thinking very well, he just wants to be buried inside of you immediately.

Suddenly you’re being manhandled to lie on the couch, with him inbetween your legs. Letting your eyes drift you can see his cock straining against his pants. He’s lifting up your hips a little to pull your shorts around your thighs, he doesn’t want to take them all the way off just incase.

He also does the same to himself: pulling his cock out, now you really get a good look at just how big he is, more long than he is thick. His cock is a pretty tan-pink and very obviously leaking precum.

He’s also looking at your pussy, it makes him twitch a little to think about how he’ll ruin you for any other person, he’ll make sure your first time is something to remember, you’re wet from the little bit of kissing earlier, probably not as much as you should be but that’s something he can apologize for later.

He pushes your legs up towards your stomach but saving room for himself to squeeze inbetween them. He moves to stroke himself a few times, fully getting up to the expression on your face, an attempt at a brave face, he wants to wipe that right off.

He guides himself to your lips, tapping his cock against you, he teases you a little by sliding up and down between your lips again, bumping against your clit has small whimpers leaving your pretty lips.

He finds your hole, and presses against it, you’re quick to brace yourself. Him pushing hurts so bad for you but he does pause in intervals to let you breathe. Every inch is like torture for the both of you, Scaramouche finding it hard to not just shove himself deep within you, and you finding it hard to adjust to just how long he is. When he does manage to get to a good place, tears are filling your waterline, this is where he’ll stop. Poor thing, you only had a few more inches to take but he doesn’t say that out loud.

He begins fucking into you but not going past the point he had stopped, god you feel so fucking good around him, his dick twitching everytime he pushes inside your wet walls, virgins are really the best. A groan is heard from Scara, huffs as well, as he tells you just how amazing this is.

It’s starting to make you feel a little jumpy, slight electric shocks are shaking your clit, You’ve never felt like this, the pain is still there but also some pleasure can be felt.

“Shi…t..” scaras pace increases while he attempts to stay in control, you’ll be the death of him, literally. He presses your thighs loser to your shoulders successfully folding you, this lets his cock hit just a little deeper. You’re whining at this point, trying to stay quiet over Childes shower.

Your mind can only focus on him and his cock, the drag of it only deluding you more and more. He takes his fingers and rubs your clit roughly, getting a loud lewd reaction out of you. You begin tightening around him, pulling him into your heat more and more. Both of you haven’t noticed how he’s slipping in deeper an deeper, lust ridden minds only worried about cumming with each other.

His balls are slapping against your ass, this makes the room even louder minus your also loud mewling. At this point your entire pussy is feeling nothing but the urge to come, it’s so different from just rubbing your clit at night, it’s something more awful. Trying to voice on how you feel so weird to Scara is useless as all that’s spilling is moans. Soon the combined pace and clit rubbing has you pawing to get away from Scaramouche but he holds you down and fucking you meaner, and faster.

You can’t move as your body twitches on its own and your cumming all over his cock, he covers your mouth to hide your final and last yelp before your mind goes blank. The aftershocks hurt as his hips won’t stop fucking into you, his stomach hurts and tightens just like yours as he bottoms out and cums inside you.

Scaramouche taps your face a little to hear some praise about how well he did but finds that you’re fast asleep. He’s quick to situate yourself and have you looking like nothing happened, then doing the same to himself.

A few moments later Childe is out of the shower and walking to the couch.

“Aww, of course she’s the first to fall asleep” he’s quick to pat your sleeping form as light snores leave you.

[angelfishe]

>> 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

>> zhongli x reader ( manhwa AU )

You were reincarnated as the wicked stepmother of the male lead prince xiao in the novel "Whispers of the Celestial Wind" Prince xiao biological mother the former empress passed away due to Illness during his infant days, and the emperor zhongli his father remarried a noble woman and soon become xiao step mother which is the character you were reincarnated.

Warning : may contain child abuse and implied nsfw themes

You were reincarnated as the wicked stepmother of the male lead, in the popular novel whisper of the celestial wind. The male lead prince xiao was the son of the former empress guizhou and emperor zhongli.

Sadly his biological mother and former empress passed away when he was 5 years old and his father was pressured to marry another noble woman soon become his stepmother.

In the novel his stepmother was a cruel person as well being the antagonist of the story, finding pleasure in abusing him as well being very jealous of his mother and would try to erase every memory of her, as well being obsessed with emperor zhongli. In the end the step mother was executed and the story ended.

You woke up in a luxurious bedroom filled with gold and blue decorations, you were confused at first until a nervous approach to your bed saying it's time to wake up, you ask for her to bring a mirror and that's when you realize you were reincarnated as the wicked stepmother who destined to die.

You immediately get dressed in a blue hanfu and walk towards the courtyard with maids following in the back, you look and there is prince xiao playing in the field with his nanny standing by.

You approach him, at first his reaction was immediately stand up and bow quickly as well as his maid, when you were about to reach your hand to pet him, he flinched as if he expected you to hit him why would anyone find pleasure in hitting this adorable baby.

You started to spend time with xiao, even tho he was always nervous expecting you to hit him but he started to melt towards you, you as well apologizing for how you used to treat him, he believed your changing a new lead and started to see you as his mother always seeking your present.

This sudden change of behavior becomes noticeable in the court, the cruel empress suddenly becomes a gentle soul. Volunteering in charities also started to form friendships with the servants of the palace. Is something the empress wouldn't do.

Suspension rise and a physician came and did a check up and found nothing wrong with you and soon the court started to believe you're changing into a new lead.

Emperor zhongli as well his closest advisor finds your change in personality very suspicious and keeps their guard up around you but by far you've been proven innocent not doing anything at all just spending time with his royal crown highness.

Emperor zhongli as well is very cold with you, distancing himself from you but since you're always near his son, he started to see his son less. But one day Xiao approaches him and asks him to spend the afternoon with him.

And low behold you were there and the afternoon was very awkward none of you started a conversation with each other the only noise is you playing with baby xiao.

One day, he asks for your presence, in the throne room with his advisors standing as if you're on trial, he asks why you had changed and what's your objective.

You answer with an honest answer saying you want xiao to have the best childhood, knowing you're unable to undid your previous crimes to the court, royal family and former empress. You promise to change into a new route even if no one forgives you.

This answer stunt the entire court and you immediately made your exit out of the throne room and immediately went to meet up with xiao to play.

That night zhongli visits you to apologize towards you for doubting your actions as well your character. And soon he also started to warm up to you.

One time you and him under disguise as peasants and visit the lantern festival usually he always has to take care of the matter but thanks to you he got his schedule free and have a fun time together in the lantern festival.

You guys walk together hands embracing each other afraid to let each other, and the other of his hand holding a lantern walking thru the peaceful bamboo forest. The moon shines down on you and he stops and gives you a passionate kiss. Time stops and you guys embrace each other's warmth that night

Throughout the years, you and him would walk towards the bamboo forest and spend the night together. Xiao is also getting bigger every year and he started to take lessons on how to be an emperor and he's quite skilled with the pole arm.

Zhongli felt complete again after guizhong left, her presence left a large hole in his heart until you walked in and that hole started to fill up, your presence and your love is something new to him something he never experienced with his first love and felt more completed with you.

The entire kingdom started to have a more stable and more prosperous than ever, with your knowledge of the plot you manage to avoid major plot events making the kingdom more prosperous. You would be invited in zhongli discussion about the kingdom with his advisors, especially advisor xianyun having a daughter and you suggest having a play date

The citizens and servants as well admired you seeing you as a dutiful and kind hearted empress, many citizens started to have better lives thanks to you.

For the nobles couldn't say the same thing some might respect you, but most of them see you as someone that engages with the commoners and see you as filth.

For the past 10 years everything has been going so smoothly, it's almost time for xiao to meet the female lead and it's his 15th birthday.

Gold is displayed everywhere with the color of green, you and zhongli sitting on the throne side by side as well as him holding your hand, you were drinking wine suddenly you fill a painful pang on your stomach and zhongli notices it and asks if you're okay.

You vomit a pile of blood and your body falls on the floor, zhongli quickly holds your body and shaking you and xiao soon shows up and holds your arm asking you what's wrong. The wine was Poison and zhongli immediately yelled for a healer quickly.

The last time you see before your vision fades to black was zhongli yelling your name while tears filled his beautiful golden eyes falling towards your face as well as xiao tears falling from his eyes and it all turned to black....

To be continued...

[takes1]

Hi theree!! If you dont mind, can you write iwa, kuroo, akaashi having a major crush on cool reader who is very good in hiding her feeling

kuroo x hard to get!reader p. 1

hey!! thanks for the request! this was originally meant to be all one part, but had to split it because of word count/pacing. nsfw to follow, reply to be tagged in next part pls!

warnings. lite!nsfw, minors DNI

details. kuroo crushing on reader / player!kuroo / hard to get!reader / kinda fuckboy!kuroo / kuroo pining / cool!reader / karasuno manager!reader / flirty!kuroo / future smut / a dash of whiny kuroo / vague feelings / noncommunicative!reader / failed?courtship / 2.2k words - reply to be tagged in next part

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. part two here. part three here. requests OPEN.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a training camp?"

That was yet another version of a weak line you heard often. Emphasis on weak. The Nekoma captain lost your attention before he could even begin; made plain as day in a quiet sigh and the way you squeezed your clipboard closer to you.

All Kuroo noticed was how it pressed your chest up, real pretty in that tank top. It was the first time in days he felt an ounce of gratitude for the still heat of this summer, the lack of circulation in the gymnasium.

"What's the matter?" He chuckled, puffing his collar to get some air on his warm skin, "You shy?"

Guys that drooled over you, obsessive but ultimately bitter, made it so hard for themselves. There was nothing more attractive to you than a guy who just told you straight up what he wanted, what he liked about you, how it made him feel. But they always found it necessary to add extra steps.

You didn't have the time.

He followed your eyeline for a second, towards your team warming up, and threw a glance at his own. When he first saw you, he thought this would be quicker. The game would start soon and he needed your number, fast.

"That's alright if you are," Kuroo kept at this line of reasoning -surely the only reason you wouldn't look or speak to him- and leaned closer, "I'm into that."

The assumption was a little ridiculous.

You turned your chin away from him as if he wasn't there, then took a step forward, closer to the court, with a resigned hum.

A surprised, breathy laugh at the action. His brow furrowed a moment, not at all used to navigating around this kind of reaction, and finally understood that something was off. Yet, it still didn't occur to him that it was disinterest that motivated your avoidance.

A squeakity-squeak of shoes approaching, quick but heavy, didn't help at thawing your icy demeanor. He did notice that you at least looked at the captain of Karasuno.

Kuroo straightened up to his full height, shoulders squared at his mirrored rival.

"Kuroo."

"Sawamura."

"Is there a problem over here?" The subtle squint in his eyes let Kuroo know that he was suspicious of this bullshit right away.

They were a step away from whipping the measuring tape out. You rolled your eyes but it went vastly ignored.

"Don't know- you should go ask your team." Kuroo tilted his head, eyes low- threatening.

He didn't have the patience here to keep up appearances. Rival school was enough. Now he was cockblocking? There was simply no time to waste when he could already tell you wouldn't be so easy to crack. He liked your challenge, not Daichi's.

"Oh, okay-," Daichi's fake smile fell away to reveal a chilling scowl, "It's like that?"

Kuroo didn't miss a beat.

"Yeah, it's like that."

You cleared your throat, a successful interruption and deterrent: "He was trying to ask for my number."

His jaw almost hit the floor. He couldn't believe how blunt you were.

Daichi, delighted, laughed at Kuroo's shitty, rushed cover-up to hide how surprised he was.

He couldn't stay to keep throwing digs; there was a game to get to and he only had a minute to spare in the first place.

After you waved him goodbye, you turned around and walked towards the side wall for Karasuno's gear, all strewn about and disorganized. You began tidying up before the game.

Kuroo remained.

He stood still, dumbfounded that you walked away from him, at how easily you could speak, and shook his head full of growing doubts. He couldn't believe you didn't want him just yet.

Eyes locked on your pretty figure from behind, bent over while you gathered Karasuno's half-full bottles into the hefty carrier, he ran his fingers through his hair and prepared himself.

He was next to you, squatted down to help you collect every bottle.

For a minute he said nothing. He simply helped you clean up. You appreciated it only to an extent, because you knew it came with conditions.

One of the last bottles sported a message, scribbled in capital letters across some tape, 'DO NOT TOUCH' signed, 'TSUKIshima.'

The corners of your mouth tugged up at how quick he found the means to designate his own bottle. He really did hate it when the other guys drank from 'his' bottle. You sympathized with him, backing him up when he got uppity about the germs.

While they were supposed to share, part of that understanding was that they also shouldn't touch the mouth of the bottle with their lips (and most of them did, anyway).

As you placed it into the upper left corner of the carrier, where he often liked to put it, you smirked again at how the name scrunched up where he couldn't fit all the letters onto the tape.

"So you can smile."

You frowned. He was nothing if not persistent.

Sure, that alone was a turn-on, but it was obvious that he was ill-intentioned and misguided in his thought processes.

You didn't want him to feel like he won you over. You wanted a guy like him to beg a little. Step off the high-horse, get his hands dirty, work for something.

He clearly wasn't used to having to use his brain when it came to women. Guys like him pride themselves on how easy it is; they walk with a certain confidence, a coolness because there's no pressure to make accommodations in their behavior for girls they like. They can spend all their time playing shirtless sand volleyball and wait for girls to get in line.

When you stood, you slid the box of extra rags towards the water case with marked effort. He didn't help you with something so difficult- he was still reeling in the fact that you ignored him again, after he helped you.

If he chose not to chase after you, you could at least be the first time he got turned down so harshly. Both outcomes served in your favor.

He came to his senses a bit late. You both stood, and you had to dodge his unnecessary grab for your team's equipment.

"Let me help you with that, babe--,"

A scoff made him freeze again.

You shouldered the box of rags and balanced the heavy water case on your hip without so much as a word. You made your way outside to go fill the water case and dry out the rags in the sun.

His chest felt... tight.

Why did that hurt so bad? Fuck, what was he doing? Frustrated, he shook his head and walked back towards his team, at the end of their warm-up. He never had to work this hard for some chick's number, or even a laugh. In fact, since he never got turned down, he felt a sense of entitlement to -at the very least- your attention.

The fact that you wouldn't look at him was a unfamiliar mixture of sexy and cruel.

"Having some trouble?" Yaku's suggestive tone grated his nerves like nails on glass.

"Fuck off," Was a defeated sigh rolling off his tongue.

He sounded so gloomy that Yaku found the explicit discourtesy funny.

In your absence, he was able to focus on getting himself and his team ready-- he needed to worry about winning this game. He got the impression you didn't settle for losers.

They were all in position at the start. He took a breath to center himself.

"Let's go!" You shouted. Innocent, encouraging, with two thumbs up towards your team.

It was hardly audible over the constant noise level of the other games going on, but a sharp look still shot over to you.

He was able to dial back that momentary weakness by forcing himself to watch Suga instead, up to serve- literally anything, anyone else, but discovered his own unfortunate reality was that he could not tear his eyes off of you.

It made for a tough time. He had to balance his mind's bias (checking out just how soaked your little white tank top got from filling up the bottles outside) and the objectively greater value of keeping his head in the game.

Yet, his failure to stay focused didn't hinder his team's performance. He was able to translate his desire to an easier task; giving you a good performance.

You didn't have any distraction from it, the way he did.

So, the distance that the game called for made your heart grow fonder of him.

He couldn't keep digging his grave from so far away by opening his mouth, to put it simply. And more importantly, you could recognize how gorgeous he actually was.

Tall, tan, handsome- yeah sure, whatever. That tall, straight nose bridge? His high cheekbones? That dark, messy hair that just kept getting fucked up because he ran his hands through it when he was nervous? The way his jaw flexed, more defined, when the ball went back over the net? How the veins in his forearms grew plumper the longer the time ran? Anytime he touched the ball, really, and the sounds that left his mouth with each impact?

It got hot, pretty fast.

As you scribbled notes for your team's plays, the observations about how an opponent like Nekoma operated became increasingly more impressive. Kuroo wasn't the peacock-superstar you had assumed him to be.

He made room for his little blond friend, and facilitated his team with a kind of responsibility and restraint that you found yourself getting absorbed in. Your clipboard was the only presence grounding you for the last round, usually pulled towards your chest or covering half of your face.

Pearls of hot, dripping sweat made little wet spots on his shirt as he waited for the ball to come to him, completely immersed in the game. God, was he good.

It wasn't the most groundbreaking realization of all time, but it helped your opinion of him shift favorably. Your vendetta against his sly confidence began to chip and crack with every save, every slam, every hasty wipe of perspiration from his face.

The ball once seemed to find its way to you close to the end of the match, in a sneaky curve around the antennae.

You stutter-stepped back as three Nekoma players chased after it. Kuroo dove for it, slamming onto his side-- right where you were standing seconds ago.

He hit the ground with a loud and labored groan.

You watched the ball as it soared through the air, still in play thanks to his sacrifice. He scampered back up and joined the court again all too fast- it made you wish the ball had hit you so he would've stayed for longer.

The final score wasn't even close. Karasuno lost the second round 15 to 25. They were too scattered, trying out too many new things at once.

It didn't even feel like a real win to Kuroo, until he spared his thousandth passing glance to the sidelines.

And there you were. Finally looking at him.

A big grin overtook his face and he had to displace his excitement by running both of his hands through his sweaty hair. It's not like you were obvious, shit you still looked at him like he was the dirt beneath your shoe, but at least you noticed him.

It was brief, but it was enough.

You understood your slip-up just as much and broke away, growing warm at how one tiny moment could be so telling. You moved towards your team.

It took your knowledge of where Karasuno came from to understand that it wasn't a genuine loss, it was only an investment; getting the chance to work out these kinks with real competitors would serve them in the future. That's why you weren't upset with any of your guys when they jogged off-court. You held out their bottles and spoke only to the seniors when they looked like they wanted your commentary.

"You're all getting better. Hang in there," You patted Asahi on the back, who needed the extra reassurance, and nodded to Suga, who barely needed it at all.

Daichi clapped and rounded up the rest of the guys with a motivational shout, the third-years leading the way for their drills, but he made a brief stop to skim your notes.

"Keep your head up," You muttered, focused on the trouble you found in his expression.

He quickly grinned and thanked you- as he faced the exit, the concern was back almost right away. It didn't help having to move past Nekoma's huddle on the way out.

"Oooh, shocker!" Kuroo snickered, still giddy with pride, as Daichi walked by.

He wiggled his fingers at him with a jovial smile. They were almost nose-to-nose for a moment.

Your keen eyes caught Kuroo mouth a sweet and saccharine 'Bye-bye.'

Evil, silly sounding giggles under a bitten lip amused you, but you didn't make it known.

He was funny, quick-witted, and so pretty. You wanted to see how long you could drag this out. Ideally you'd string a guy like him along for the whole camp, if possible. Or break him. Whatever came first- all you knew at the moment was that you were down to entertain this.

☆VIP☆

@integers @yuchacco

please send: requests!

*i'm bout to crash out if i don't get something new in my inbox (aka; pack up and move to my ao3)

*reply to be added for next part

my masterlist

[sserpente]

After

Synopsis: You help Astarion wash off the blood after he kills Cazador. He doesn’t say much—but you can tell he needs you now more than ever.

A/N: I thought of this the other day and I almost cried. So I wrote it so that you can almost cry as well.

Words: 897

Warnings: trauma responses, fluff

Astarion was being unusually quiet, his movements robotic and too automatic as if he was somewhere else entirely in his mind. And he was. You couldn’t blame him. He had his own demons to deal with after what you had just witnessed.

His hand was still clutching the dagger so tightly his knuckles turned white. But not even the blood stains on his bare skin could manage to disfigure him. He was as beautiful as ever despite the streams of tears drying on his cheeks.

You’d wrapped your cloak around him after he announced he wanted to get out of there, eager to respect his wish. There was nothing left for him here. It was over. Now all he had to do was to heal, slowly, from the trauma the past two hundred years had caused him.

Both Shadowheart and Gale had offered to help calm him down with magic but Astarion had been quick to decline. It was dark outside by the time you left the palace—a welcome circumstance. Though it was not uncommon for citizens to roam the city drenched in blood every now and then, you were certain Astarion was grateful for the absence of curious and suspicious looks as you made your way back to the Elfsong Tavern.

It wasn’t just Cazador’s death of course. He’d turned it all down. The ability to walk in the sun, the powers Ascension would have granted him… Now he’d return to the shadows. But he wouldn’t do it alone, that you were going to make sure of. He had you.

He was still silent by the time you returned to your room upstairs. Whoever had decided to stay behind today—Lae’zel, Wyll, Jaheira, Halsin and Minsc—their eyes all went wide the moment they laid their eyes on the blood-drenched vampire spawn.

The questions were burning on their tongues, you could tell. But they held back. You cleared your throat.

“Would you guys mind… leaving us for a bit? Join the others downstairs for a drink maybe?”

“Understood,” Jaheira said. She waved her hand and nodded, compassion glistening in her wise eyes. “Take your time.”

“Astarion…” Minsc pushed Jaheira out of the way, earning him a groan. “Is… is Cazador dead?”

“Yes, he’s dead, Minsc,” you answered for him. Jaheira grabbed his arm and dragged him along with her before he could say something else. Wyll, Lae’zel and Halsin followed suit.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the latter announced. A few heartbeats later, you were alone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love.” Your voice was barely a whisper but Astarion heard you nonetheless. He nodded and finally allowed you to peel the dagger from his grasp. You set it aside on a table and lead him to the washtub in the corner of the room.

The cloak slipped from his shoulders, sailing to the wooden floor. He made no move to pick it up, no move to help you as you filled the tub with warm water. In fact, you weren’t sure he even saw you do it. But when you moved away to get him a fresh towel for later, you heard him.

“Don’t leave,” he said softly. Your eyes darted back to him, taking in the vulnerability and helplessness surrounding him like cold mist.

“I won’t. Ever. I was just gonna get you a towel.”

“Don’t leave,” he repeated.

The chest with your things was just around the corner, still, you opted against it. You forced the corners of your lips up and nodded, returning back to his side.

He didn’t protest when you removed his bloodied trousers and had him step out of them, didn’t resist when you made him climb into the tub and eventually, undressed yourself and reached for a sponge and soap before joining him.

Silence filled the room, water dripping as you dunked the sponge in. His sigh the moment it touched his cool skin was heartbreaking.

Inch by inch, you washed off the blood, pressing feather-light kisses to his chest and his face every now and then. Once you were done and the very last traces of Cazador had vanished, you cupped his cheeks, gently forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Astarion nodded. “I just need…time.” To process. To decompress, to let everything that happened today sink in.

You nodded. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, Astarion. I am so proud of you. What you did today…that was the bravest thing I have ever witnessed. You didn’t have to do it and it wouldn’t have made you any less brave if you hadn’t faced him. But you did. I love you. And I will do anything in my power to help you through this, whatever you might need.”

The vampire smiled—it was a weak smile, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. But it was sincere nonetheless.

“Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You remained in the bath until the water was cold. After tiptoeing over to the clothing chest naked to finally retrieve the towels to dry off, you cuddled up in bed together, your limbs entangled and his face pressed against your neck. His breath evened surprisingly fast as he slipped into trance and you too closed your eyes, holding on to him tightly until you were certain he had found peace for tonight.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Monsoon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

10.1k wc

Synopsis: Four years after Toji Fushiguro died, Satoru decided to give his widow a visit

(Warnings: age difference (nothing underaged), dark content, AFAB reader, pregnancy kink, non con, overstimulation, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough sex)

It was raining when Gojo Satoru entered your flat. 

Not particularly harshly, but more than enough for a scare. You weren't in the mood for visitors; the rain made you drowsy, and it was coincidentally your one day off. You wanted to lean against the window and watch the droplets fall against the pavement with a warm blanket. You did not want to exchange pleasantries with some kid. 

The only reason you didn't slam the door in his face was because he said your husband's name. 

It was why you were bringing tea to someone who clearly couldn't care less about it as he lounged on the sofa. You sat on the other end, staring at the scuffed coffee table. Out of anxiety, you play with the ring wrapped around your finger. 

"...He's dead?" 

It's a question, but you already know the answer. Gojo doesn't even bother to reply, humming, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid. You still stare at the coffee table. It's slightly crooked. One of the legs was broken. Toji promised he'd fix it. 

That was four years ago. You hadn't seen him since. 

You should have expected this. You knew the kind of man Toji was even before he stuck that flimsy ring on your finger. The kinds of people he hung out with. The suspicious amounts of money he would shower you with. There would have never been a happy end for the two of you. 

You can still feel your throat close up, bile rise from your belly. You can't do anything but watch the old table you never threw out because he promised he'd come back and fix it. 

The only reason you close your eyes, sucked in a tight breath, was because you still had a guest over. One that clearly wouldn't care about your crocodile tears. 

You've never seen someone his age so apathetic before. That temperament was associated with the people of your generation. The people who've already been in the workforce, who carried stress on their backs and hips. You can't see his eyes, but the slouch in his posture is indicative enough. Maybe all kids his age were like this. Uncaring, indifferent, subtly disrespectful. 

Because he was a kid. It didn't matter how tall he was, how much bigger than you he was. A single look was all you needed to know that this boy was at least a decade younger than you. Unkept white hair, sunglasses despite the weather, a cocky smile, a voice oozing with misplaced confidence.

You don't acknowledge it; it's clear he didn't come here just to tell you your husband is dead. 

"How old's your kid? Eight?" Gojo tilts his head. "You gotta' know what that means, right?" 

You do. Even if you weren't steeped into the world your husband willfully left, you know enough. You know how important your son is. 

It's why you stop Gojo before he can make his offer. You've already heard this before, a week ago when men with Zenin as their last names knocked on your door. 

"Thank you for your concern," you tell him as calmly and respectfully as you can. For the first time, the man straightens up, as if your answer wasn't what he expected. You can sense he isn't used to being told no. 

 You keep your smile neutral, pleasant, final. 

"But we're fine as we are."

Moments later, when he's about to leave, you offer an umbrella, insistent on him taking it. It was raining after all. He takes it with him without any protest. 

You don't notice that, despite the downpour, he was perfectly dry when he stepped into your home.

☔︎︎

Megumi was always special. 

Every mother thinks that for their child. You're no exception. As soon as he was born, tiny in your arms, swaddled in blankets, something shifted within you. You'd always wanted children, but the concrete feeling of your child in your arms when he's so vulnerable. You'd never felt anything more right. 

To you, Megumi was always special. But when Megumi turned 5, he became special to the entire world. 

Toji was never tight-lipped about the world he came from. Shamans, sorcerers, shikigami, curses. You weren't an expert, but you certainly knew more than the average person. He'd often tell you things, when he was drunk, pulling you against his bare chest, underneath cheap blankets. You always heard the bitterness in his voice. That world had rejected him. It would reject anyone who wasn't special enough. Special people were rare. 

It's why you were convinced Megumi would never have to deal with any of that. His father wasn't a sorcerer, neither were you. He'd live a normal life and would only be special to you. 

"It's on your other shoulder." 

You switched hands, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. Like always, you couldn't feel anything. There was no weight on your skin, nothing tangible that you could grab and toss. There was just this small feeling of dread. A small ache in your bones. 

He waves a tiny hand. Instantly, the feeling of dread is gone. The ache lifts and you roll your shoulders. 

"Thank you," you tell him with a strained, but grateful smile. He nods, turning back to his food. 

"You're getting more, now," he simply says. 

"Haha, sorry," you reply instinctively because even though he's eight, you feel like you've burdened him. 

"It's okay," he mutters, quiet as always. His gaze flicks back up at you, before glancing back down. He takes a second to gnaw on his lip. 

"Are...are you okay?" 

You're being so obvious even your own son could see it. 

Your smile feels more forced as you placate him with the usual lie of 'Mommy's just tired, long day at work'. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't say anything back. He's so much like his father in these moments. Truthfully, you didn't think Megumi got a single thing from you. His black hair is Toji's, his blue eyes are Toji's, his pale skin is Toji's, and even his forever-present scowl is your late husband's. You supposed that should have been the first sign: Megumi would be anything but normal. 

You hadn't told him about the visits. You're his parent, you had justified to yourself. He's a child. He doesn't need to know about the visits. Especially, considering you decided for him. Megumi would be raised out of the jujutsu world, away from curses, and sorcerers. 

You can't have your son taken away from you like his father was.

('Special Grade', Gojo had told you. A powerful cursed spirit. You hadn't gotten closure until you let him in. No body was ever recovered.)

You can't let your son end up like that. 

But was this the right life for him? You watch as Megumi's gaze trails up, like he's tracing the movement of a fly or something bigger that you would never see. 

You can't relate to Megumi. You don't have cursed energy. You can't see the things he can. As much as you loved him, you'd never be able to understand what he is. None of his classmates can. None of his teachers. It sounds lonely. Isolating. 

Only a handful of people that could ever give Megumi that connection exist. And they're willing to accept him with open arms. 

He had been an older man, flanked by another. They eyed your home with relative disgust; you, with mild derision. It'd been their words that echo in your head today. How much happier Megumi would be surrounded by his own kind. How the clan would welcome him and teach him to hone his technique. 

They were words that would sate the parent of a lonely boy, but you couldn't help but remember the disregard in his voice. Their words made Megumi sound like a tool, instead of a child. 

The offer of payment for your son was enough to turn them away. 

Was Gojo Satoru any better? From your brief encounter, you couldn't tell. There was always a smile on his lips whenever he talked about Megumi's future and Jujutsu Tech. The lilt of his voice felt fake, artificial. But at least he didn't ask to outright buy your son. 

When Megumi's tucked into bed, you pace around the living room. You glance at the slip of paper he'd left behind. The scrawl of numbers in neat handwriting. The thing he slipped into your unsuspecting hand. You've had a glass of wine before, maybe that's why your hands are a little more steady when you punch in the numbers. 

He picks up after the second ring. It oddly feels like he was waiting for your call. 

"Can jujutsu sorcerers live normal lives?"

There's a laugh on the other end. Light. Amused. 

"No," his response is cold, even when his tone isn't, "Even if they leave the jujutsu world, they will never have normal lives." 

The answer you were afraid of, but you weren't surprised. Special people rarely live normal lives. You knew what this meant: trying to protect Megumi from his father's fate would be pointless. No matter how far you run, no matter how far you take him, it will never be enough. 

"Does it really matter, then?" you ask, "who Megumi goes with." 

"In that sense, no, not really," his voice crackles back, "But I think you've already made your decision." 

You had days ago. You were just wasting time, picking up the phone only to drop it just as quickly. As much as you'd wanted to keep your son away from the jujutsu world, you knew, even before they knocked on your door, it was a failed endeavor. Megumi was special. Megumi was too special for you to hide. He shone too brightly. 

The Zenin clan would extinguish that. You knew it. Toji knew it too. It's why he took on your name. 

It's silent again. You bite your lip. You've been doing that a lot lately. 

"Gojo, may I ask a favor?" He gives a hum. 

"Please, don't tell him about Toji." 

There's a beat of silence. The line clicks. 

Two days later, Megumi meets the strongest sorcerer of the modern era. 

☔︎

There was always something clinical about Megumi's and Gojo's relationship. 

You wouldn't call them father-son, let alone brotherly. It was strictly student and teacher. From the start, it was clear Megumi wasn't impressed with the sorcerer. His scowl would somehow get deeper whenever the young man was around. 

Gojo didn't seem all that impressed either. He wasn't as blatant, but you could sense that it was a chore for him, rather than anything else. You don't think you can blame him. He's barely twenty. He should be doing other things. Living his youth, and continuing his education. 

Gojo grew up too fast. You can see it in his face. He's never not smiling, but it's never truly sincere. It's not clinical either. It looks exhausted. You wonder-if he wasn't wearing those glasses all the time-if you'd see dark circles. 

He's too young to be running around this much. He's too young to carry the entire world of jujutsu sorcery on his back. He's too young to be an educator. A mentor. 

Yet he is. Yet he does. All with a smile on his face. 

You're less intense nowadays to him. When Megumi comes home, clearly a bit more roughed up than when he left, you criticize Gojo less harshly. When you make lunch for Megumi, you ask if he'd like anything as well. Gojo has a bigger sweet tooth than your eight-year-old son does. You never nag him for it. 

The change doesn't fully happen until that fateful conversation. It's an offhanded remark he makes about him not being there to train Megumi for a few weeks because of a mission. 

"A curse?" you ask, as if they aren't all around you. 

Gojo grins because you've discovered he likes talking. "Reports are coming down from Sendai. The running bet currently is special grade." 

You frown. "Oh. Well, be careful." 

He freezes at that. You think he's staring at you, but you're not too sure. His glasses give away nothing. Your fingers dance with nerves. Had you said something wrong?

"What?" 

You tilt your head. "Oh! Uh, 'be careful'. Stay safe." You end your sentence awkwardly. 

Eventually, Gojo recovers. "Yeah. Well, obviously." He smiles. 

You watch him leave, keeping your eye on him until he disappears into the sleek black car. 

It doesn't occur to you until much later that Gojo probably hasn't had someone worry about him before. 

☔︎︎

Whenever Megumi's training continues much later in the evenings, you go to the Gojo estate to pick him up yourself. 

It's a grand house. Practically a mansion. You've never felt so embarrassed about your humble apartment until you saw the lavishness Satoru lived in. A part of you is now even more impressed by Megumi's stubbornness. Children are the first to fall for the affluent. 

It's big, but you've never quite gotten over how empty it looks. Every time you visit, there's always just Satoru. You haven't seen his mom, his dad, any siblings. It looks like a family home, but he's the only one who's ever there. 

He's never mentioned any family. You wonder what happened to them. Where they are now. 

Somedays, you arrive a bit earlier than needed. During that time, you tend to stroll through the gardens. They're so beautiful. Large and expansive. They're empty, however, just like that grand house. No flowers. Not even weeds. It's just a bunch of dirt and stones, plainly stacked on top of each other. It disappoints you a bit. The grounds had so much potential. 

"Whatcha' got for me this time?" You jump, whirling around. Satoru is right behind you, a teasing grin on his face. 

You give him a disapproving look, though it lacks any real heat. "I told you to stop doing that." 

"Doing what?" Though he may be twenty, he acts like he's younger than your son. Speaking of your child:

"Where's Megumi?" You prod, glancing behind Satoru, as though your grumpy child would pop up behind him. No such thing happens. Satoru's incriminating smile grows wider. 

"Homework," he cryptically replies, "also, he didn't want to disturb us adults having our grown-up conversations." 

"Of course he did," is all you say, but you acquiesce regardless, digging through your bag. 

You've always been taught to bring something when visiting another person's home. You found it rude not to, despite how casual Satoru acts around you. You discovered he liked sweets the most, so you have tried your best to satisfy his sweet tooth. He seems happy with whatever you give him. One thing you like about Satoru is how he cherishes all the gifts he's received from you without any complaint. You spotted the umbrella you'd given him all those weeks ago, sitting right by the door. He'd never given it back. You'd never asked for it. 

You try to ignore the feeling that the only reason he gets excited about your gifts is that it's rare for him to receive anything at all. Satoru doesn't need to be pitied. 

It's nothing too big, just a bag of saltwater taffy from an Americanized store. He's already ripping the package open, pulling one out of the wrapper to stick it in his mouth. 

You blink when he extends his hand, another piece of candy between his fingers. 

"Say 'ah'!" 

"Oh no, I'm fine. They're for you—" Satoru interrupts you by popping the piece right in your mouth. Your lips instinctively close. 

"Oh." You say after you taste the sweet. "Peppermint." 

He laughs, taking another one out for himself. You follow him through the abandoned gardens. 

"So, how's Megumi's-"

"Nuh-uh," Satoru immediately stops you, "enough about work. Let's talk about something else!" 

You roll your eyes, but your smile is too affectionate. You ask him about his latest trip overseas. He tells you about the country he visited, the curse he exorcised, practically giddy from excitement. Conversation starts there before moving onto other things, small talk, your job. 

"It's a shame the gardens are so empty," you say when the conversation reaches a lull. 

He stares at the bare patches of dirt with you. "When I was younger, the gardeners would take care of 'em for us. Flowers would bloom every spring." 

You feel him recoil. Satoru does that sometimes. Say something too intimate, hissing when it's too late to take them back. For his sake, you don't comment on it. 

"It must have looked beautiful." Is all you respond. Understanding, but closed enough to give him relief. 

You stand there in silence for a couple of seconds. In the dirt, you can see a tiny ant carrying a grain of sand. 

"Roleplay time!" Satoru suddenly exclaims. You whirl your head to look at him. "Imagine you become the great Gojo Satoru." You stifle a laugh at that. His grin only gets wider. "What kind of flowers would you choose?" 

Toji always thought bouquets were stupid. 'There's no point' he'd always say 'the weeds will just die anyway, why you somethin' like that?'. But sometimes, he'd bring home these tiny, golden flowers. Simple. Pretty. He'd tuck it behind your ear, grinning at his work. You'd kiss him in return. 

"Marigolds," you say at last. 

Satoru only hums in response. A few seconds later, he's leading you out of the garden, rambling about how expensive sushi was overseas. 

A few days later, you see men with barrels of soil, combing through the garden. 

A week after, tiny golden flowers start poking through the dirt. Simple. Pretty. 

☔︎︎

You had that same dream again. The day Toji left. 

It's rare to have these dreams. They wouldn't leave you alone the first year he'd disappeared. Back when you thought he'd gotten bored of you and your son, like he'd finally decided he was sick of the family life. 

They come back sporadically, nowadays. You can't sleep after you have them, so you often find yourself curled up in the living room, looking at the window. It was raining. Heavy droplets thud on the glass. The violence seems desperate somehow. Like the weather is begging to be let in, to snuggle underneath the warm blankets too. 

On nights like this, it's a habit to stare at the tiny golden band on your finger. You slip it off, holding it in your palm. It's nothing extravagant—tiny with a simple design—but it's the last thing you have of him. Toji was never that sentimental. 

It's not really a dream. Dreams are more whimsical, cloudy. You can remember everything, down to the outfit he'd been wearing, the fly that had been buzzing around your door. It was like you were there all over again, begging him not to go. 

"You promised you'd stop." 

"This is different," Toji said and you flinched when he tucks away his gun. You thought he'd gotten rid of it. 

"The money?" You're pressing, "we have enough money, you-" 

"This isn't about fuckin' cash," his voice cuts through you, sharper than any blade he carried. 

"It's somethin' else. Somethin' you wouldn't understand. It goes beyond money." 

Your gaze lowers, curling your fists on the table. You can't understand, not when he refuses to tell you. Not when he barely explains why he's going back to his old ways in the first place. 

Sensing he's upset you, Toji sighs. You can hear him place something down on the dining table, metallic and clanky. Calloused, rough fingers brush your cheek, your jaw, coaxing you to look at him. You don't, forcing him to lean forward, giving a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are rough, cracked, but overwhelmingly gentle on your skin. 

"I love you," Toji mutters into your skin. 

You don't respond. You wish you had, you wish you'd gotten over your pride and told him because maybe then he'd still be here with you. He's giving another sigh, tucking your hair into place before he's leaving. He closes the door behind him. 

That day, you told yourself you wouldn't forgive him. Whenever he came back, you'd tell him you were done. You'd take Megumi and you'd leave. 

Now, you think you would have forgiven him. Eventually. It would have taken a while, a lot more than measly flowers and apologies. But, if he had come back, you would have let him back into your heart.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask. 

Megumi blinks his eyes. It's past his bedtime, but you aren't going to nag him for it. You place the cup of steaming tea down on the coffee table, clicking your tongue when it wobbles. Right, four years later and you still hadn't fixed it,

"The rain was too loud." He gives. 

Wordlessly, you invite him into the cocoon you'd nestled yourself into. The sofa sinks under his weight as he settles next to you, leaning against your side. You tuck the warm blanket around his tiny body. He's still small enough to fully wrap your arm around him, bringing him even closer. You take advantage of it. You don't know how much time you have until he's too big to cuddle with anymore. 

His breaths are even and slow. He's a boy of few words, but even you think he's asleep until he's mumbling something into your ear. 

"I hate him." 

You give a confused hum, leaning down, resting your head on top of his. The coffee table looks even more uneven at this angle. It burns to even look at, these days.

"He makes you cry, even when he's not around anymore." 

You laugh at that. It's a quiet huff. When you glance down, you think you spot a faint smile on the boy's lips. He’s so much like his fathers, in the little things. You don’t think you will ever tell Megumi that. You don’t think he’ll take that observation well.

"I wasn't crying.” You tell him. “I was just thinking.”

He doesn't give a response after that. A few minutes later when you look down again, his eyes are closed, and he's drooling against your shoulder. You laugh again before gently gathering your son in your arms and settling him down to bed. 

The next day, you notice the monstrous amount of duct tape wrapped around the leg of the coffee table. When you ask Megumi about it, he just shrugs, his ears twinging a bright red. 

You throw the coffee table away. It's replaced by a new one the following week. 

☔︎︎

Satoru didn't like talking about Toji. 

You only tried prying once or twice. He was tight-lipped about it. Not quite cold, but he'd shut the conversation down quickly, more than eager to talk about something else. You missed it the first few times, but it became clear that Satoru disdained even the mention of your late husband. You can't tell if it's whether Satoru admired Toji enough that the mere mention of his name sends him into grief, or if it's something a lot more complicated. 

Now that you think of it, you barely even knew the relationship Gojo had with Toji. Had they been close? Was he just an acquaintance? Satoru had always been so cryptic about it. 

Toji hadn't. 

"He's called the strongest man?" you ask, amusement twinged in your voice, "I thought he was 12." 

"They don't care about age when giving titles," Toji replied.

You were leaning onto his shoulder, watching your son sleep in his crib. Only three months old and he had this permanent frown on his face, as if he was already sick of the world. 'He already acts like you' you once told your husband. He'd scoffed, but he didn't disagree. 

"That's a little funny," you find yourself saying. "What, can he lift a car? Does he benchpress 200?" 

Toji doesn't find the image of a child casually lifting 150lb weights as funny. He only grunts, drawing you closer. 

"I met him once," he says after a beat of silence, "back when he was barely older than a toddler." 

"Hm?" you prodded, still mesmerized by a sleeping Megumi, "what'd you think?" 

"Power," Toji responds, "more power than I'd ever have." 

You tear your gaze away from your son, glancing at your husband. Toji's eyes were looking somewhere, farther than you could see. It's the envy in his voice that you can't help but keep. A mere child already has everything Toji could ever want. Strength, a name, honor. 

You should have realized then that Toji would never belong to you. Not truly. His heart, whether or not he swore up and down otherwise, would always belong to the Jujujtsu world. It's a tragedy. Someplace that he always longed for acceptance, will never truly see him. Even when he died for it. 

Satoru will probably never answer your questions about Toji, but perhaps you could get close. 

"Why did you do it?" 

It was after dinner. Satoru had dropped your son off, and you had practically dragged the white-haired man inside with you, sitting him down on the dining table. He'd complained, but you know he secretly liked being coddled. He didn't deny the second helpings, nor the thirds. Sometimes you wondered if he was a man or a black hole. 

Megumi had already gone to bed, and you supposed he had enough of Satoru for one day. It left you and him in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Rather, you put away the dishes, and Satoru watched. Not that you minded. It was nice to have company. 

"Hm?" He was typing away at his phone, blearily turning back to look at you. You couldn't get why he didn't just go home if he was so uninterested. 

"Why did you interfere when the Zenin came?" You repeat your question, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher. 

Looking back, things could have gone much differently for you. For your son. You didn't realize how much power the Zenin clan had back then. Had Satoru not stepped in, had you kept rejecting them, you honestly wonder what sorts of drastic measures men like them would take for the sake of power. 

"Are you upset?" He asks, tilting his head. 

"Of course not." You smile. You were grateful for Satoru, you always have been. He's helped your family out in more ways than you could imagine. After all he's helped Megumi with, there was nothing Satoru could do to get you mad at him, hate him, not truly. 

"I was just wondering. It's not like you had an obligation to." 

You close the dishwasher with a soft click. The machine starts with a soft hum. He doesn't reply, not for a long while, when you look up, you see him staring back at you. His sunglasses were off, folded, tucked under his collar. 

"Clans are bullshit." You're surprised by the venom in his voice. There's a cinch in his jaw. You wonder how many years his hatred has been festering like this. 

"The entire Jujujstu world is, honestly. But clans are the worst of all. The hierarchy. Traditions. All dogshit. They'd gobble the kid and spit him back out. I-I didn't want him-" He stops with a hiss, like he'd said too much.

This time, you don't let him run away. 

"...you didn't want him to end up like you." You finish. 

It clicks, fits together like a jigsaw piece. The Gojo name had ruined Satoru, turned him into something he was too young to be. The name forced him to grow up faster, stronger. The name forced him to be isolated, lonely.

That conversation with Toji curls up inside of you. Back then, you'd only empathized with Toji's pain, but what about Satoru's pain? What about the amount of expectations that had been piled on top of a 12-year-old boy? What about the responsibilities he's forced to carry, each weight growing heavier and heavier but he can't break because he is Gojo? 

Satoru stands before you, but you can easily picture him as Megumi. Tiny, small Megumi who didn't speak much but whose heart was bigger than anyone you knew. He could end up like Satoru. Standing at the top of the mountain. All powerful. All alone. 

You don't want Megumi to be alone. 

You don't want Satoru to be alone. 

"Satoru." You step forward. "Could...could I give you a hug?" 

He doesn't respond. You step closer. No barrier. 

When you wrap your arms around him, you think you can feel him tremble. It takes a moment for him to catch up, for his arms to drape across your back. You clutch onto him tighter, silently promising not to let go until he does. 

He doesn't, not for a long while. 

☔︎︎

Satoru had a mission on his twenty-second birthday. So, you celebrate five days after he turns twenty-two. 

"Again," you say for the nth time, "If-if you have other plans, or anything else, I don't have to stay-" 

"Will you stop it, already," Satoru interrupts, "You're gonna make me depressed. I already told you, I got no other plans." 

 "Well," you frown, "if you change your mind, and you'd rather spend time with your friends..." 

"What other friends? You're the only one I got." 

You frown at that. He smiles, barely lingering on his loneliness. He does that a lot lately, brush it off. Perhaps it's become easier to. Perhaps it's because you're here now. 

The sun had already set on the Gojo estate. The stars were already out. Typically, you would have been antsy staying too late over, especially when Megumi was still home, but your son was a few cities over. He was training with another sorcerer, his new mentor stating that your son wouldn't be back for a couple more days. 

Wait, now that you think of it. 

"Satoru," you say, your voice heavy with disapproval, "Did you send Megumi off purely because it was your birthday?”

He grins wider, showing off his pearly whites. "No idea what you’re talking about." 

You frown harder. He clicks his tongue in distaste.

"It's not like the kid would wanna come celebrate anyway, and now you can focus on me! Two birds one stone." He flops on the couch.

"Satoru." 

"Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!" Satoru chants, as if that'll distract you. 

Unfortunately, it does. You roll your eyes, but you lean down, pulling out the pastry out of the bag. It's nothing special, and you do not consider yourself an expert in baking. It certainly isn't fancy, but you were still a little proud. Simple, a small chocolate cake, perfect for two.

Satoru stares. 

"I know it isn't much-" 

"I love it," he says and you can't tell if he's joking or not, "I'm gonna make it a family heirloom." 

You laugh at that. It shakes your shoulders. 

"I don't think cakes are built to last that long. How about you just eat it, instead." 

"Much better plan," Satoru responds, grabbing a fork, eager to dig in. 

He yelps when you slap his hand away as you give him a stern look. You touched his skin. You try not to linger at that, at the fact that he let you touch him. 

"Not now," you say, but you still smile, "you need to blow out the candles first." 

He huffs but doesn't protest when you stick two candles into the soft frosting. It takes a while to work the old lighter; you have to shoo him away when he tries to snatch it from you. You force Satoru to sit there for at least a minute as you sing the dreadful happy birthday song. He doesn't seem to mind, a mean grin growing on his face, letting you finish up the lyrics. 

Toji was mortified every time you managed to stick a birthday hat onto him, dragging him to the living room for his cake. He'd hold his infant son in his arms, his frown even less amused. Even then, he never interrupted the stupid tradition you put him through. He'd sit through the entire ceremony, Megumi asleep on his chest. A scowl would twitch on his lips whenever you managed to smear a dab of frosting on his nose.

You clap when Satoru blows out the candles. 

"What did you wish for?" You ask minutes later, swallowing down a bite of frosting. He was already on his third piece. You know you should tell him to slow down but you don't think it will do much. 

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Satoru responds, his tone light.

"That's a myth," you point out, "but keep your secrets if you must." 

You set your plate down when Satoru speaks the next time. 

"I wished for us to do this again." 

His voice is shallow, echoing throughout the empty house. You look at him, his white hair, his pink lips, his blue eyes. Everything that encompasses Gojo Satoru is focused entirely on you.

"That next year, we'll celebrate the exact same way." 

He sounded so small, as though he were younger than 22. Perhaps, a part of him was. A gentle smile spreads on your face. 

"Of course we will," you assure, before your voice gets teasing, "the next year, the year after that, and the next year until you get sick of me." You laugh. He doesn't laugh back. It's silent again, the kind of quiet that's full and meaningful. Distantly, you hear a clock ticking somewhere. It's a nice night. Peaceful. God, you were so tired from all the stressing you did for the cake. Satoru wanted to watch a movie after the cake cutting, but you wonder if he'll forgive you if you fell asleep during the film. You were exhausted. 

That's why it takes you a second to register his lips are on yours. 

The kiss is soft, and patient. His mouth moves slowly against yours. You can taste the chocolate. It takes a second to understand what Satoru was doing that he wasn't Toji before your hands are moving, reaching up to his shoulders, keeping him there as you shy away, breaking the kiss. You two stay like that for a few more moments, still touching. You can hear your breath, feel your heartbeat. A little while later, he moves closer, intent on following your mouth, before your brain kicks in and you're shutting him down, standing up. 

Satoru blinks up at you, the realization of rejection sinking into his eyes before you stumble over yourself to apologize because, dear god, you should have seen this coming. 

"I'm so sorry, Satoru," your voice is coming out in clumps, "I never meant to... I always thought...I'm a decade older than you." 

The ocean eyes crystalize, turning into cold tanzanite. You're too muddled with guilt and self-hatred to notice. Of course, Satoru would take things the wrong way. Of course, he'd misunderstand. You always thought he was wise for his age, but he's still in his early twenties. You should have been better and made your boundaries known. God, you were so stupid. 

"So?" he asks, but his voice lacks the usual snark. "Who cares how old you are?" 

You resist the urge to say something accidentally condescending. 'You'll understand when you're older' stings in the back of your tongue, and you wonder if it's fair to say considering how you acted when you were younger than Satoru­­-- when Toji was an older man who found you amusing enough for dinner and a warm bed. 

It's different now. You were older, wiser. Toji had been a mistake. A mistake you miss every day. 

"Of course, you don't," you say, and despite it all, a laugh fumbles out your throat. Shaky, delirious. "Again, I'm so sorry. It's entirely my fault-I-I should have communicated things better."  

"Why does any of that matter?." It's his turn to stand up, and it makes everything so much worse because Satoru's taller than you. "It doesn't, not to me. I lo-" 

"Stop."

It's not a yell, but it's the harshest tone you've ever used on him. Still, it's enough for his breath to falter, to give you a moment of reprieve because the only other person who said that to you and meant it died six years ago. You touch the cold metal of your ring. You twist it around your finger. When Satoru's eyes gaze down, following your movements, you force yourself to stop self-soothing. 

The ticking of the clock starts back up again. You want to smash it. 

"I should go."

You already know it's a bad idea. You shouldn't leave Satoru alone. You should stay, sort things out, mend his heart, but you're human. You want to run, sort yourself out first. You want to take the cowards' way out. Satoru doesn't stop you. You can't bear to look at him, not when it's so much to even be here. Your mind is already being thrown into disarray and you're barely remembering to grab your purse. 

Your hands rest on the door when you pause. You don't bother turning around. You know he's already looking at you. 

"Happy birthday, Satoru." 

For some reason, you cry the entire ride home. 

☔︎︎

Surprisingly, it's Megumi who asks about it. 

It'd been a week since you'd last spoken to Satoru. Communication stills, and stops completely. It goes both ways, he doesn't randomly pop by anymore, scaring the daylights out of you. You no longer buy strange-sounding sweets because you know you won't be seeing him later. One week ago, Satoru was there. The next, he wasn't. 

"Has he said sorry yet?" 

You jolt up, staring at your son. Megumi is still glowering at the vegetables you'd put on his plate. At this point, you know he doesn't hate the food. He just always looks like that. 

"What?" 

"He obviously did something to you." He mutters. "Did he at least say sorry?" 

No matter how uninterested your son always portrayed himself as, he was very observant. Of course, he would. As much as you loved Megumi, you wish he'd be just 10 percent less attentive. 

You force yourself to laugh anyway. "Satoru didn't do anything." You assure. "What makes you say that?" 

"The idiot's been sulking all week," Megumi responds, "everyone's been wondering what's up with him." 

You give him a disapproving look, but you doubt it did anything. Instead, you glance down, mindlessly poking at your plate. 

"Don't call him that," you say softly.

Megumi only shrugs. Despite everything, you still have this strange urge to defend Satoru, if only to save your own dignity of fighting with someone 10 years younger than you.

"Nothing happened. It-it was a misunderstanding, that's all." You hope your smile doesn't look uncertain. He's only ten, but he's already so perceptive. You don't think it's enough to convince him. Your smile drops. You roll your shoulders. 

Another thing you should have seen coming. Of course, Megumi would notice. Despite how annoyed Megumi acts around him, there's still a sort of bond between the two boys. A connection between two sorcerers, something you will never have with your son. You were wrong about your initial assessment about their relationship. They were much closer than you thought. Satoru cared about Megumi, as did Megumi about Satoru. Your souring relationship with Satoru might break that. . 

Your actions have consequences. To everyone, not just yourself. 

"I'll talk to him soon about it, I promise." As if to placate him further, you reach over, patting his hair. He frowns deeper but doesn't make a move to shove you off. 

To your chagrin, soon comes later that evening. Satoru breaks the ice first with a single text. 

you free tomorrow

It's nothing like him. No emoticons. No exclamation marks. You say yes, regardless. The next evening, you step out of the taxi, thanking the driver before stepping onto the Gojo property. 

It was raining, barely a drizzle, not enough to make you want to bring an umbrella. Still, the air was chilly, just enough so that you clutched the coat covering your body tighter. You carefully avoid the puddles adorning the sidewalk. 

You agreed to come here, but it's hard to keep that in mind as you climb the patio steps. You stand in front of the door for an entire minute, counting each second, before you knock. 

"Finally! Took you long enough." 

It's hard to look at him. Already, your gaze threatens to waver. You force yourself not to wrap your arms around your sides. For once, you're glad he wears those sunglasses of his. 

Satoru, on the other hand, barely looks affected by the encounter. He's dressed well, in a white collared shirt and black pants. He smiles cheerily, widening the door so you can step inside. You thank him when he wordlessly mentions for your coat. 

Your eyes catch the living room, along with the coffee table. There'd been a half-eaten birthday cake the last time you'd been here. Now the table is completely clean. You wonder what Satoru had done with it. You hoped he threw it away because the thought of him sitting there, alone, finishing the pastry filled you with so much guilt you could almost feel sick. 

"Did you see the weather just an hour ago?" He asks offhandedly, "thought the rain would smash through my windows, from how loud it was." 

"Oh?" You ask genuinely because you honestly hadn't noticed anything regarding the weather. You'd been stressing about the reunion, mind too preoccupied to care about the skies. 

"'hope the violets survived. I just planted 'em yesterday." He glances out the window as though he could see through the sheets of rain. You hum, already feeling out of place. The silence is only accompanied by the rain lightly patting on the windows. 

"You still love him." When you don't answer right away, Satoru turns back. "That Zenin guy. You love him." 

It catches you so off guard that you can't help but tell the truth. You nod once. 

He's still smiling, but the air feels off somehow. Like you're passing unmarked territory. It's a silly thought, and you brush it off immediately. Despite how strained your relationship is currently, Satoru isn't dangerous. He never will be. 

"Yeah," he responds, "I just don't get why, y'know?" 

You try to smile, but it's like pulling teeth. "I-I don't see how-" 

"It just doesn't make sense. You and him, I mean. You two are so different." 

You couldn't argue with that. Toji and you were on opposite ends. He was from a world that you would never be able to reach, let alone touch. You were a regular woman. He was a man who fought curses on a regular basis. A man who died from it. 

Satoru's laughing; it takes you a moment to realize you might have said some of that out loud. 

"Right. Fuck I keep forgetting that's what I told you." Satoru leans against the counter. "A special grade killed Zenin." 

"I mean, technically, I didn't lie, right? A special grade did kill him. A special grade sorcerer." 

Your brain stops. You can only stare. Satoru reaches up, taking off his glasses, folding them before neatly placing them on the counter. His eyes were always so breathtaking; now they look empty. Soulness. 

You laugh. It sounds delirious. "But-but you said you were one of the only special grade sorcerers around." 

"Yeah." Satoru nods along. 

"Satoru...you're not making any sense..." 

"Really?" Satoru tilts his head. "What part of 'I killed your husband' is confusing for you?" 

He continues at your silence. "I mean, it wasn't like it wasn't for a good reason. The guy shot a junior high girl for cash. Knowing him, he's probably done worse. If you're asking me, I did a good thing by killing him--oh." Satoru pauses at your expression: horrified, broken.

He's smiling. You think that's the worst part. It's the same smile he's always worn. Playful and mischievous. 

"C'mon, you seriously didn't know what he was up to. I can't tell whether you're that stupid or if he was that good at hiding it." 

You should have denied it. You should have said Toji would never do the heinous act Satoru just accused him off, but can you? Could you honestly say that? You knew Toji was in bad shit. You'd always known that. He told you about the gambling, the drugs, the money. After he married you, he promised he walked away from that life, he was walking away with you. One last job, he'd said. Just one last job and he was done forever. 

Something that goes beyond money, Toji had said, something you would never understand. 

You can hardly breathe, sinking against the wall behind you as you collapse onto the floor. Your hands are pressed against your mouth, muffling your sobs as your eyes are filled with tears. Every interaction you've ever had with Toji is flitting through your mind. You can feel the bile in your stomach, threatening to leave your lips, splatter across the floor. 

Your husband was a murderer. 

Your husband was a monster. 

His fingers are cold as he firmly pushes your hands away from your face. You glance up. Satoru stares right back. His smile is gone, replaced by a frown. He squats before you, idly tracing his pointer figure around your cheeks, catching your falling tears. 

"He took everything from me, y'know," he says, quiet, low enough that the rain almost drowns his voice, "in just a day, my entire life changed. Someone died. A person I thought would be by my side my entire life disappeared." 

"But, I gotta' thank him. Without his help, I wouldn't have become stronger, and I wouldn't have you." 

You suck in a breath at that, but Satoru isn't paying attention. His hand traces down to your neck, feeling the skin. 

"I like to think that he gave me you as an apology of sorts. It's nice to think of it that way, right?" 

You look at him, absolutely horrified at how casual he was being. 

Your husband was a monster. 

And he’d left you with another one. 

Immediately, you slap his hands away. 

"Stop." You say, a weak hiss, "don't-don't touch me. Never ever touch me-" 

"Yeah," he interrupts, ignoring your wavering voice, "I didn't think you would jump into my arms after what I said, either. But, hey, a guy can dream, right?" 

What? And before you can think, he's pressing his lips against yours. 

It's not like his first kiss. Before, when it was soft and sweet and he barely pushed, like he was savoring you. This kiss was harsh. Filled with teeth and lust and endless greed. You can taste the inexperience, and the thought that this might be the second time Satoru’s ever kissed someone fills your head. The fight is almost pathetic as you sink into his hold, helpless to do anything but wilt until he's had enough of his fill. You push against his chest, but he only leaves on his terms.

You're both panting, but you're more frazzled. His lips are blushing pink, and there's a string of saliva that stretches before snapping apart. You can feel the way his hands are positioned on your hips. Disgust and self-hatred wells up within you.

"I meant what I said that day: I love you." You squeeze your eyes at his confession. "I mean, what's there not to love? You're sweet; you're hot."

His hands play with the hem of your shirt. You stiffen as you try to claw them off of you, but it doesn't help. You don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. It's morbid curiosity. Looking at a car crash. Your eyes open and you stare at Satoru. 

"But I think the thing I love about you the most is that you'll never hate me." 

Two glowing blue eyes stare back at you. He looks ethereal like this. Even when he's kneeling, he's still taller than you. He's always been above you. Not just in height, you're slowly starting to realize. 

You always thought Satoru hated his last name. You always thought he blamed his lineage for his loneliness, his isolation. He grew up too fast, forced to become something for the sake of others. It's why you tried so hard to treat him like an equal, as though he were another human. 

When he leans in to kiss you again, you finally understand that Gojo never wanted to part from his last name. Why would he? It was always a part of him. It was your fault for trying to humanize and connect with him. You fought for years to see him as an equal that you neglected to ask if he even wanted to be on the same plane as you. 

Perhaps, once he did. Back when candlelight illuminated his face. When chocolate was the only thing you could taste.

"You can't hate me." He smiles against your lips. "You feel too sorry for me." 

"No matter what I do to you, you'll never hate me." 

You start crying again. Satoru hushes you, wiping away your tears in a way that suggests he's not used to being soft and delicate. Yet, he's trying to be. Soon, his gentleness fades, and his impatience seeps in again. It's all too easy for Satoru to haul you to your feet. He was the strongest, after all. You struggle anyway because you're human and your heart is filled with foolish hope. He laughs at your meager attempts to push him away, and you feel that this is all a game for him. Maybe it always was. 

"Satoru-Satoru," you're begging as he pulls you through his empty house, "you don't have to do this. Please just-" 

"See? You still aren't getting it." Satoru sighs, like he's disappointed before he's tossing you in a room. You flail against the bed, your chest pressed against the cushions before he's flipping you onto your back. It's worse when he's hovering over you, both hands on either side of your head, caging you in. 

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. I never have." 

You expect Satoru to kiss you again, that disgusting display where he rips you apart with his teeth, consuming you whole. Instead his pretty blue eyes flit to your clenched hand. He snatches up your wrist, easily unfurling your hand.

You react too late, only reaching up to stop him when he’s done pulling the ring off your finger. Satoru barely gives it an unimpressed look before he’s tossing it aside. You can only stare in the direction of it, watching as the last thing you had of him drops into the darkness. There’s two metallic clinks before it’s rolling to a stop. And then, you hear nothing.

He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I was so sick of looking at that.” He mumbles into your skin, giving it a playful nip. “Parading that thing around in front of another man like that. It’s kinda’ rude, y'know?”

You give another sob when his hands dig underneath your shirt. He presses on the softness of your belly, burying his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans into your neck. You can feel something press against your thigh.

You know what he was planning on doing, he made it clear ever since he dug himself into your skin with fangs. But the evidence. The hands twitching up your shirt, groping and feeling. The bulge grinding against your thigh

You can’t fight him, you stopped trying. Instead, you clench your fists again, letting the last of your tears drip down your face, praying and praying that what Satoru said wasn’t true.

Satoru isn’t nice to your clothes. You don’t know why you thought he ever would be. When he’s done with feeling and not looking, he pushes your shirt up, letting it catch just over the swell of your chest. He’s pushing your bra down, leaning down to trace your skin with his hot, wet tongue.

You jolt at the contact. It’d been so long since you’ve last been touched. He’s barely done anything and yet you’re already so sensitive. Something between a gasp and a moan is pulled out of your lips when Satoru swirls his tongue around your nipple, before he takes it fully in his mouth.

He’s tasting you, savoring you in a way you’d only seen him do for his cherished candy. He’s messy with it too, drool and spit spilling onto your skin, making you feel even colder than you already were.

Satoru has never stopped with just one candy, has he? He’s greedy, popping another and another in his mouth until the bag is all empty. It’s his natural essence to take until there’s nothing left. That’s why his hand trails down to your skirt, pushing it down before you can even decipher what he wants next from you.

You gasp when his hand presses against your panties, pushing them between your folds. The fabric lightly brushes against your clit, not enough for you to have any kind of relief. Still, a tingle jolts up your back.

“You’re soaked!” Satoru’s exclaiming. His voice comes out in the form of a laugh, light and innocent. It hurts to hear him sound like that. You have no more tears to cry again.

You want to tell him that it wasn’t you, that you don’t want him, that it’s just your body, but you doubt he cares about any of that. He pushes your panties down, letting them sit against your thighs before he’s pushing a finger deep into your wet pussy.

You can’t stop the noises this time. It’s more of a yelp than a moan, but Satoru takes it in stride as he continues to finger fuck you. When he digs a second finger into your hole, there’s a wet squelch of a sound. You have to turn away, but you can feel his smile against your skin. Victorious.

His other hands comes, pushing in between your breasts to keep you on the bed as he plants butterfly kisses down your ribs, your stomach, your hips, all the way down until he’s practically on his knees.

You were right to assume his inexperience. He’s sloppy, spreading his saliva and your wetness all over your pussy. There’s no rhythm, no clear pattern as he’s trying everything at once--swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit before licking his way into your hole.

And yet, it’s working. Your battered cunt responds to his enthusiasm, and your walls squeeze his fingers.

You can’t stop your noises. You don’t think he’s trying to stop his. His voice is muffled by your pussy, but he’s moaning and groaning so loudly. You think he’s saying something, but you can hear anything over the wet sounds of your cunt, the throbbing between your ears.

Your orgasm was inevitable, but you’re still surprised when it hits. Ramming into you like a train. Your back arches, and your thighs are involuntarily squeezing Satoru’s head. Keeping him there.

There’s a hum of satisfaction coming from him, but he doesn’t pull away. He folds your thighs, pushing them up into your chest so he can get more access to your pussy, sucking even harder on your clit. You were so far out of it that you can barely remember that this isn’t for you. It’s all for him. Satoru is greedy. It’s his natural essence to take and take until you’re nothing more than an empty bag, once filled with something sweet.

He doesn’t stop until you’ve come around his fingers and tongue a second time, when your cries are on the brink of overstimulation. When Satoru finally pulls away, the bottom half of his face is shiny. He keeps his eyes on you, messily wiping the remnants of you off his face before his leaning forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

Unlike you, he doesn’t bother undressing himself. He’s unraveling his belt from his waist, pushing his pants down enough that he’s able to untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s already hard, giving his dick two cursory pumps before he’s settling his on either side of your body, keeping you there.

He’s big. Big enough that you worry he might actually succeed in breaking you. A semblance of rebellion, motivated by fear than anything else, stirs inside you. You push yourself up, elbows pressing against the mattress before he’s ending it.

There’s a grin, a flash of teeth, before he’s roughly pushing you down again.

“Satoru-“You start, you beg.

“Shut it,” he says, his smile too dangerous to be friendly, “if it isn’t begging me to fuck you, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

As though he’s taking the sight in himself, he hovers over you. The light from the window gently caresses his face in an angel kiss. His white hair is almost like halo, swathing him in an innocent shade of beauty.

When Satoru sinks his cock deep inside of you, you wonder if he’s defiling you or himself.

Just like before, he doesn’t bother letting you acclimate. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t hold off. You can’t expect him too. Your pussy is squeezing him, edging him on. How could you expect him to not take it as a challenge and fuck you the way he’s dying to?

It’s exactly what he does as he bullies his cock deep inside your walls again and again. He whimpers, high and pitchy before he’s leaning down to bite and lick at your neck, your chest, leaving your skin with marks and bruises that will last for days.

Satoru loses his sharpness the more he’s inside of you. You cry when he leans down, circling his thumb across your clit.

“So good,” he’s mumbling into your sweaty skin, like a mantra, “so good so good. You’re so good. I love you I love you I love you-“

It’s torture to hear him say that over and over again and a part of you tries to force yourself to think of someone else to give you comfort. Scarred lips. Thick black hair.

You can’t.

Satoru has taken away everything, even your dreams.

There’s another gasp before he’s harshly gripping on your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are blown open, wide and manic.

“Say my name,” he’s begging but his grip is too tight to be anything but an order, “I-I need you to-fuck-say my name.”

“Sa-Satoru.” He lurches at that, almost collapsing into your chest.

“Again.”

“Satoru,” and then you say it again and again and again because your brain’s too muddled to do anything but listen to him.

His thumb is moving faster and faster on you clit, his thrusts are getting sloppier.

“Gonna-gonna fill you up,” An alarm of panic ring as he’s blabbering, words stilted and strained, “I gotta’—I just gotta’, can’t think of ‘nothing else—fuck fuck.” He adjusts your legs, folding your body in half so he can push that much deeper inside of you.

He smiles again. Wild. Unhinged. The monsoon that is Gojo Satoru. If you won’t wash away with him, then he is more than happy to drown you in his rain.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his voice a mix of a laugh and a groan, “think the kid would like a younger sibling?”

You can barely process his words. You don’t think Satoru could process his either. His orgasm triggers your own, and you’re both tipping over the edge together. His cum fills your pulsing cunt, searing your insides with white heat.

Satoru collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress of expensive sheets. You two stay like that, just the sounds of your harsh breathing fills the room. Satoru gives a shaky kiss on your lips, just as sweet and chaste as the first time.

He stays there for another minute, before he’s pushing himself up again. You can’t understand what he’s doing until you realize he’s still hard inside of you.

“Satoru—” it’s a plea, your voice overwrought with exhaustion, “Don’t—"

“One more, ‘kay?” he slurs, pushing his cock as deep as it could get inside of you, “Just—Just one more.”

You wake up hours later. It's pitch-black, the lights are gone. Distantly, you can feel Satoru's hand curled around your waist. He'd fallen asleep with his head buried in your neck. You can feel his rhythmic breathing against your skin. Outside, the rain beats on the windows, and thunder rattles in the sky. 

You wait for it—the anger, the hatred—for yourself to hate Gojo Satoru. 

He was right. Nothing came. 

[zhongrin]

caution: these toys aren’t kids-friendly

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, wriothesley, al haitham, kaeya

◇ tags ◇ minors dni, afab!reader, fem!reader, toys (duh), improper use of geo (thanks crys), dragon!li (because..... are you even surprised?), edging (zhongli, wriothesley), 'little one' used (zhongli), handcuffs & collar (wriothesley), 'puppy' and 'slut' used (wriothesley), shibari (al haitham), sex machine (kaeya)

◇ a/n ◇ an offering before wrio's banner drops. was debating on releasing this today or the end of this week, but..... wrio come home please i am begging

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

the addition of toys in your bedroom was something you both had discussed beforehand. typical of zhongli, to draft a contract detailing all the things you were both comfortable and not comfortable doing in the bedroom, right after you mentioned that you were ready to be physically intimate with him.

you really should have read the fine print in that contract carefully.

“- my love?”

“h-huh?”

you dazedly looked up at your husband, feeling your already-warm cheeks getting warmer at the expectant look that he and another man were giving you.

was he talking to you? what was the question? where the hell were you again?

“hm, my apologies, it seems like my wife isn’t feeling well. perhaps we will revisit your establishment at a later date, mr. curator. i truly do apologize for the inconvenience.”

you were not even sure what the other party said. all you could hear was the smooth baritone of your husband’s voice. all you could think was how good he could make you feel with that eloquently speaking mouth and lithe tongue of his, those long slender fingers, the two girthy, veiny, deliciously ridged shape of his-

that same voice was now whispering just slightly above your ears, and to others it must have looked like you were both a very loving couple; a husband hunched over his wife, supporting her and bringing her to the nearest shade in this hot weather while lovingly murmuring sweet nothings into her ears - because what else would the gentlemanly mr. zhongli whisper into his dearest spouse?

literal filth, that’s what.

“my my, the amount of slick running down your thighs, darling,” he chuckled as he let you rest against the cooling shades by the side of a building, his gloved fingers trailing up your inner thigh behind your skirt to gather the essence of your drooling cunt, “how scandalous. had i were just a second too late, people would have noticed the suspicious trail of wetness on your leg despite the lack of rain or anything of sort-”

“want you,” you babbled, brain stuffed full of cotton as you tried to press yourself against him, “n-not enough, want more!!”

“was the toy i personally created just for you not enough, hmm? how greedy,” he was fully taunting you now, amused by the sparks of arousal in your voice and in the short bursts of your breathing, “didn’t you say you could wait until we get home, dear? i’m afraid our abode isn’t some decrepit back alley, now, is it?”

“no, no, now, now,” you whimpered like a saddened puppy, trying to grind on his thigh, the soft vibration of the little geo construct within your walls providing pleasure which made your insides clench, but they fell short of pushing you over that precipice.

“you’re so impatient.”

you gasped as the object inside you suddenly whirred into life, pressing against the right spots and pulsing with a powerful energy you couldn't describe. your cunt clamped around it, more slick pouring down and dripping onto zhongli’s slacks, your cries muffled by your lover who had locked his lips onto yours, tongue inviting you to a sensual dance as your senses were drowning in mind-bending pleasure. his scent engulfed you and the tender fondles of his hand on your thigh contrasted with the passionate kiss you shared, and all you could think was how much better it would feel to have him inside you - oh, even just one of his cocks would do at this point. anything that could fill you up so nicely and bully onto your sweetest spots as your husband’s growls echo right beside your ear - as he marked, mated, and bred you full of his-

and then suddenly he pulled away, shattering your daydream completely. the vibrations returned into an annoying hum, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes as zhongli fixed his tie and your rumpled clothes, his touch sending electric jolts whenever it brushed against your heated bare skin. he gave you a deceivingly kind and patient smile, amber eyes drooping in dark lust yet his movements were as refined as ever.

“come on then, little one. let us go home so i can take care of you properly, yes?”

wriothesley hummed as the metals clicked into place. the view before him was making his cock twitch and throb; the way your face was smushed against the pillow, the dip of your bare back and the roundness of your rear, the way your legs spread open and wrists cuffed with his signature handcuffs… and most of all, your bare cunt in all its drooling mess, completely exposed to him as he rubbed his leaking tip on the sodden slit.

whines and pleas and begs escaped your lips but he paid them no mind. you gave him full control when you agreed to be restrained in this position with the new cuffs he had gotten you. the leather looked ethereal against your wrists, and the way it matched so well with the collar on your neck, embellished with his insignia? truly the most divine sight.

the pleased noise escaping his throat was akin to a growl as he slowly pushed into your heat, his smirk widening as he felt you tighten and tremble. the slow drag of his girth against your walls was driving you insane, but the man refused to acknowledge your desperate ‘more’s. instead, his hand crawled down your stomach from behind, and you felt a cold finger press onto your swollen, burning-hot clit, ripping a surprised and needy squeal from you.

the appendage circled slowly, the cold of cryo making his action feel even more pronounced, as the blunt tip of his shaft slowly kissed the deepest part of you with sensual and rough snaps of his hips. the wet sounds coming from the minimal movements were a testament to how aroused and desperate you were for release.

“look at you, puppy… so wet you’re leaking. how dirty,” he drawled as he continued to stimulate both of your sensitivity, watching intently as your ass and thighs rippled with how your body shook and from his hard but short thrusts, “you feel so good, though… i can fuck this tight pussy for hours on end. would you like that, puppy? will that finally satiate my needy little slut? will you finally learn to behave when you’re so overstimulated, all you can do is cry for my cock and beg for my cum?”

the duke smirked when your cunt clenched at his words. even without seeing how you were nodding frantically, it was enough of an answer to him.

“guess we’ll have to find out… but don’t worry - i don’t expect you to learn your lesson in one session.”

‘it’s not like you’re losing anything by doing this’ he said. ‘shouldn’t take that long’ he said. ‘just enough to sate my curiosity’ he said.

well, firstly, al haitham was, as always, correct. but apparently he was also a liar, and you had severely underestimated the curiosity of an esteemed scholar of one of the akademiya’s bests. maybe you should start paying attention to the books he read. how in the world had you failed to notice that your boyfriend had been reading books upon books regarding the art of shibari?

and of course, like the scholar that he was, he wished to do some 'hands-on practice' now that he had committed the theory to heart. and who would be a better partner than you? a personal curiosity should be sated by personally trusted individuals, and you were perfect for the job.

“you said- you said it’s not gonna take l-long…”

he blinked up at your tied form through those pretty lashes with a hungry gaze which was far from being satiated. intricate knots and green ropes pressed against your skin, some digging insistently as you consciously struggled against the bindings. predatory eyes gazed upon you - a delicious prey willingly caught in a trap.

“time is a construct. it seems like our definitions of ‘long’ are vastly different. an unfortunate miscalculation i should have foresighted; my mistake.”

if the monotonous words weren’t enough indication of how he was clearly not feeling bad about his actions, his next action showed it. fingers lightly brushed against your chest, rubbing against the pebbled nipples as he admired the way your breasts looked against the bindings. your beloved raised his eyebrows when the slightest touch made you shiver and moan in anticipation, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

“ah, i see. i suppose it’s quite boring on your part to just stay there and be restrained like this. my apologies, it seems i have neglected to put myself in your shoes,” al haitham’s eyes soften and he presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead, his bare hands slowly inching towards the section of the rope which was particularly drenched with your arousal.

“let me make it up to you.”

“ready?”

“mm…”

“oh, snowflake,” kaeya chuckled and placed a reassuring kiss on your jawline, thumb caressing your chin comfortingly, “don’t you worry, it’s going to feel really good, and we can stop anytime. you know i would never do anything you wouldn’t like.”

“i know,” you mumbled and replied to your lover’s reassurance with a peck on his lips.

with an approving hum, the cavalry captain fiddled with the remote in his hand. the resounding beep was followed by a soft whirr of the engine turning on, and you gasped as the lubricated toy slowly entered you, before it retracted at the same speed and repeated the motion. a warm hand that contrasted against the cold mechanical motion reached under you to continue his ministrations from before, caressing your inner thigh sensually before feathering across your lower lips.

“mmhm- f-feels good…!”

“yeah?” your boyfriend chuckled as he continues to circle your clit with his experienced fingers, “think you can take more?”

you shivered and nodded. kaeya rewarded you with a kiss to your temple and soon enough you felt the machine speeding up a notch, thrusting into you moderately fast now, the sound of your wet arousal vivid in your ears and resonating within your shared bedroom, causing more warmth to explode on your face.

“ooh, look at that, you’re taking it so well. feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

with an agreeing whimper, you slumped against kaeya’s body, surrendering to his flighty touches which added warmth to the pleasurable but coldly mechanical toy.

“archons, you look so pretty like this…,” he crooned against your heated skin, eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief, “now, let’s see how long you’ll last before you start begging for my cock.”

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[goldfades]

gender reveal! | JOE BURROW⁹ [006]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.2k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe's gender reveal! what will it be, a boy or a girl? regardless, joe is gonna spoil the hell out of it and his beautiful, glowing wife.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SO FREAKING FLUFFYYYY!! like so sweet, might give you diabetes! mentions of pregnancy and pretty sure nothing else

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, the kind that buzzes under your skin and makes every second stretch a little longer. You and Joe stand side by side in your backyard, the quiet hum of cicadas and the soft glow of string lights overhead creating a cocoon of intimacy. It’s just the two of you—no big party, no social media announcements, just you, him, and the tiny new life growing inside you. Exactly how you both wanted it.

On the patio table between you rests a modest cake, its white frosting smooth and unassuming. Inside, though, lies the answer to the question that’s been playing on a loop in your minds for weeks. A boy or a girl? Joe’s hand is warm and steady against the small of your back, his thumb drawing lazy circles that do little to calm the nervous flutter in your chest.

“You ready?” he asks, his voice low and familiar, the kind of tone that feels like home no matter where you are.

You nod, biting your lip. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Joe grins, reaching for the knife. “Alright, here we go.” But before he can make the first cut, he pauses, looking at you with that playful sparkle in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to do it?”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “No way. You’ve been more impatient than me, and I didn’t even think that was possible.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” With a deep breath, he steadies the knife over the cake. Time feels like it’s moving in slow motion as he presses down, the blade slicing through the soft layers with a satisfying shhhk. The moment of truth is just a breath away, and yet it feels like the air has been knocked out of you.

“Okay, okay,” you whisper, your hand gripping his arm as he lifts the first slice.

And there it is. The blue inside is unmistakable—bright, bold, and bursting with meaning. You clap a hand over your mouth, your eyes immediately welling up as the reality of it sinks in. Joe’s reaction is instant; his face splits into the kind of smile that could rival the sun.

“It’s a boy,” His voice cracks slightly, and he stops, laughing at himself as he turns to you, his own eyes suspiciously glossy.

You nod, unable to form words through the tightness in your throat. You let out a shaky laugh, and that’s all it takes for the tears to spill over.

“A boy,” Joe says softly, as if the words themselves might float away if he isn’t careful. His grin grows impossibly wider, eyes shimmering in the warm light. “We’re having a boy.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, the sound bubbling up from a place of pure joy and disbelief. “Maisie called it,” you manage, wiping at your cheeks. “She’s been saying ‘boy’ since the moment we told her. And Mom, too—she said she just knew.”

Joe lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Remind me to never bet against either of them.”

You lean into his chest, your arms looping around his waist as you take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean linen and a hint of cedar. His heartbeat thrums steadily under your ear, grounding you in the moment.

“Our boy,” you whisper, the words tasting sweet on your tongue. “Can you believe it?”

Joe tilts his head down, his chin brushing the top of your head. “I can now,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “And I can already see him—running around the yard, throwing a football, stubborn as hell.”

You laugh, picturing it so clearly you almost feel the warmth of the sun on your face. “If he’s anything like you, we’re in for a wild ride.”

“Oh, he’ll be worse,” Joe says with a playful smirk. “He’ll have your sass and my competitive streak. We’re doomed.”

You swat at his chest, but the playful banter quickly dissolves into another wave of happy tears. Joe tightens his hold on you, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both stand in silence, soaking in the enormity of the moment.

The cake sits forgotten on the table, a simple slice revealing the bright blue inside, as if the whole universe conspired to mark this occasion. Above you, the stars are just starting to peek through the twilight, tiny pinpricks of light against a deepening sky.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Joe says softly, breaking the silence. His voice is filled with a quiet reverence, the kind reserved for life’s biggest, most beautiful moments.

You pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Me neither,” you say, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “But I already know one thing.”

“What’s that?” he asks, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smile, your gaze unwavering. “He’s going to have the best dad in the world.”

Joe’s face softens, his eyes shining with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And the best mom,” he whispers, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls you back into his arms.

The world feels quiet, still, and full of promise. In this moment, under the string lights and a canopy of stars, you know that you’re ready for whatever comes next. Together.

Over the next few weeks, your home begins to transform. Boxes start arriving at your doorstep daily, each one containing something more extravagant than the last. A designer stroller with gold accents, a baby-sized leather jacket that looks like it belongs on a runway, and tiny sneakers in every color and style imaginable.

One afternoon, Joe bursts through the front door carrying a box nearly as big as he is. “Baby! Check this out!” he calls, setting it down in the living room.

You follow the sound of his voice, curious. “What now?”

He opens the box with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning, pulling out a baby swing that looks like it was designed for royalty. It’s covered in plush fabric, with a built-in sound system and a gentle rocking mechanism that mimics a mother’s heartbeat.

“It’s top-of-the-line,” Joe says, his eyes sparkling. “Supposed to be the next best thing to being in your arms.”

You shake your head, laughing. “Joe, he’s going to be sleeping in our room for the first few months. Are you planning to keep all this in there too?”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Why not? I want him to have options.”

It doesn’t stop there. Every time you turn around, Joe has another surprise—whether it’s a thoughtful gift for you, like a new pair of comfy maternity jeans or a stack of your favorite books, or something for the baby, like a custom onesie with “Daddy’s MVP” printed on it.

But what touches you the most are the little things he does without fanfare. The nights he spends assembling furniture, carefully following instructions even when they don’t make sense. The way he starts humming lullabies under his breath while doing the dishes.

One evening, as you’re curled up together on the couch, you rest your hand on your belly, feeling the baby kick. Joe places his hand over yours, his face lighting up when he feels it too.

“He’s already got a strong leg,” Joe says, his voice filled with pride. “Might be a future quarterback.”

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Or maybe a doctor. Or an artist. Whatever he wants to be.”

Joe nods, his expression softening. “As long as he’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

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