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screampied · 6 months ago

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‘GHOSTIN' ?! ★

ᡴꪫ sum. it's midnight and you're bored. bored and horny. everyone knows ghosts aren't real, or are they? you end up summoning a ghost and he's not leaving anytime soon, in fact, he wants to give you a taste of your own medicine for disrupting his slumber. you get a taste, alright.

wc. 5.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghost! toji, unprotected, switch toji, praise, dirty talk, oral (m! receiving), manhandling, spit, impact play, brēeding, biting, size kink, mentions of tummy bulge, nipple play.

an. don't summon ghosts unless their name is toji fushiguro idk

don’t summon ghosts they said—you’ll regret it in the end they said,

but who cares? not you. besides, it’s not like ghosts even exist. you’ve never been one to believe in paranormal activity anyway, although all of that starts to change on a specific night. this night, the clock just struck twelve and you’re bored out of your skull. it was an ordinary sunday night and it was just you and your dead quiet apartment walls. as you’re scrolling on your phone, glancing at your feed a certain link catches your eye. wanna summon a ghost? click here to find out how.

to keep it brief, your curiosity eventually gets the best of you. with a snort, very much not believing the lengthy follow up article that warns you of the possible dangers to come of the spirit, you go into your bathroom, following the steps before your lights flicker. at first nothing happens, oh, see you knew ghosts weren’t real. annoyed a bit that you wasted fifteen minutes of your time—you prepare to leave the restroom when you feel a cold hand on creep on your shoulder.

“tch. the nerve,” a rough voice murmurs behind you. you tense up, craning your neck to indeed see the ghost that was displayed on the picture. yet, he looks more human-like if anything. toji, the name that was said to be his. toji eyes you up and down before a scoff leaves from his reddened slick lips. “why’d you summon me..”

you’re taken aback immediately. with a staggering height of almost six feet, you meet the soulless eyes of a mere attractive spirit. “i— uh,” you sheepishly peer down at your feet, not in a million years thinking it’d actually work. “you’re a real ghost?”

“uh obviously,” he murmurs, mocking your expense. trodding his bare feet across your carpet floor as if he knows the layout, he scratches his chest. “eh, what a mess. you live here?”

ouch, so he was hot and rude. figures,

you take a moment to gawk at the ghost’s attire. nothing really too appealing—just a simple white t-shirt with sweats. it almost could be mistaken as an eerie nightgown if you squint. again, he looks more human than an actual spirit. it was just the paleness of his skin that gave away his non-human features. his clothes weren’t the only thing you were staring at though.

his bulge,

its hard to not notice it, especially with a size like toji’s. you spot the invading print poke through his sweats, the roundness of it, basking in all its dirty glory. you had to restrain yourself from making a fool of yourself — licking your lips and almost allowing your lewd, obscene thoughts to take over. you couldn’t help it though, it was quite literally all in your face. you’re so entrapped in your little phantasm that you don’t even feel the ghost flicking his chilly cold fingers against your forehead.

“girl are you even listening?” he rasps.

“h-huh?” you look up, snapping out of whatever trance had you on such a leash.

toji deadpans, a groan sliding past his lips before he eyes you up and down. his gaze alone makes you nervous. “don’t huh me, i saw what you were looking at,” and he peels up his shirt with a single hand, exposing his curled up washboard abs. god, even as a ghost he was so ripped. your eyes ogle down towards the sable-black boxers he wore, the hem of it peeking from over his pants before he hums, amused. “wanna feel?”

“can i…?” your voice trails off, and it’s so pathetic and soft. you could hardly recognize your own softened tone but you didn’t care.

“knock y’erself out.” he hoarsely shrugs, and you barely give him a chance to finish before your fingers twang against his skin.

immediately, you feel how cold his body was, a shivering temperature that ghosts against your digits as you feel against his body. jade pupils of his burn into you as he watches intently. the hardness of his abs — you feel everywhere, the texture of it was rock hard. his muscles, the way he carried himself, the flexing of his abs. it was all just so attractive. despite how the lower half of his body was freezing, you continued to let your fingers wander on every part of his abdomen.

“you’re cute,” he murmurs, and you don’t realize he’s been staring at you the entire time. toji had to admit, for a human, you were quite easy on the eyes. maybe even his type, if he was a human himself. “are ya always this handsy towards people you first meet or…?”

“not really,” you huff, and your hand trails deeper until it stops near a certain area.

his happy trail,

it was so pretty, jumbles of blackened curly hairs run down near the under part of his v-line. he’s so perfectly sculptured. it was easy to compare his ghostly anatomy to a mere greek god. so perfect, the more your fingers explore down his muscular frame, the colder your fingertips get. “wow, are you sure you’re not a human?”

“wanna find out?”

his words struck right into you like a knife strikes its enemy — you pause, leering up at him with glossy eyes and a slight head tilt. in a coy tone, you rub the back of your neck. “y- yes.”

“c’mere then, girl.”

inching towards him, the ghost then pulls you into a longing kiss. its passionate at first then shifts to sloppy. you moan, feeling him try to pry open your lips with his tongue to allow him access. you do, savoring his freshly minty taste and even his tongue was just as cold. toji tasted like hypothermia—chillingly cold, yet your lips stuck against his like ice. speaking of, his lips stuck against yours like velcro, like glue. your breathing continues to grow heavier by the second before he snakes a hand around your neck, giving it a delicate squeeze. already, you were weak for his touch. toji’s thumb skids against the middle opening of your throat, physically feeling the vibrated sensations pour out from your sweet little esophagus.

a gasp wretches from your throat once you feel the front of his knee go right between your legs. it’s sneaky, the friction you feel from that muscle alone earns a soft noise from you. you whine in his mouth as tongues dance and tangle together in harmony.

where there’s harmony, there’s sync,

he loved the way your tongue curls into his mouth, tasting and savoring his minty flavor. you only wanted more by each dreadfully long second that passes. wobbly arms of yours sling around his neck and the static from his rubbing knee only grows. “f-fuck.” you’d whimper between hot, sultry kisses. suddenly, the air felt thick and heavy. you’re panting, lungs already feeling like they were about to collapse as he gingerly starts to suck on your neck. while he does, you succinctly open your eyes to see him already staring at you. darkened raven eyes, long untrimmed bangs that almost shield his eerie pupils alone, his eyes told a thousand stories.

his eyes told a thousand stories and maybe you wanted to know more about this ghoulish visitor.

after a while, the steamy kiss ends up departing and you gasp for air. “knees, pretty. get down for me.”

with how compliant you were, it was almost amusing to see. you get down on your knees, being face first with his bulge yet again. you just wanted to run your tongue everywhere. so full and well rounded, you already started to feel the saliva trickle into your mouth. mouthwatering. toji’s eyes rove towards the pullover hoodie you wore. with an impish expression, he claws a hand over your head delicately. a free finger of his crooks near your chosen attire.

“this. take it off, wanna see more of your body.” he utters in a low tone.

“for a ghost, you’re pretty pervy.” you tease, hauling the piece of clothing over your head.

“girl please. says the mortal staring at my crotch,” and as your hoodie is suddenly removed, he takes a good peek at your bra. he simpers. “mhm,” he inhales for a second, taking in your frame for a few solid moments. toji’s eyes then glance towards your chest. “bra, take that off too.”

you unclasp the back strap of your bra with one hand and he grunts once he sees your breasts spring free. “fuck, y’er pretty. ‘m gonna ‘hafta take my time with you.”

and he does,

toji’s got you on all fours, cutely struggling to take him fully into your mouth. his ruby-colored tip greets you and you can’t help but skitter your tongue against the frenulum. he groans, raking a hand in your scalp. as he’s standing, he moves a few strands of hair away from your face. “yeah, open that jaw. get it wet, spit on it if you have to, doll.”

“mmf,” a muffled moan comes from you as your knees dig into the ground. his taste was flavorless and still you wanted to savor it. sweet like candy, toji’s scent alone clogs up your nostrils and his darkened pubic hair tickle against the rim of your nose. he’s just so big though, so fucking big . .

as you’re taking him down inch by inch, it’s hard to try not to gag as he continues to gradually shove himself into your throat. toji’s abs clench and tighten as he sees your jaw hang open, giving you a single thrust and you pull away to gasp. already, you’re starting to drool for him. with your mouth left open ajar, it had easy access to the saliva dribble down the sides of your lips and onto your chin.

“heh, ‘s too big for you? that’s my bad.” he purrs.

“shut up,” you grumble, your tongue licking alongside his dick. a throbbing vein of his that runs down his side pulses against your tongue and you hear him hiss. toji’s still got a hand combing into your hair, pulling your head up concisely just so he can see that pretty face one more time. “so f-fuckin’ big.”

“this is just y’er mouth, wait ‘till ya feel me from the inside.”

you roll your eyes at his cockiness, preparing to take him inside of your mouth again. your spit covered lips open up and he coos once he sees that you’re slobbering. you let a few amounts of your sheeny saliva pour onto his shaft, wetting it in the process. “play with y’er tits, use ‘em.”

you grab ahold of your plump mounds, brushing a thumb against your perked nipples before your head starts to bob. as he’s sinking his dick into your tight little throat, he groans.

toji could get used to the warmth of your mouth, your plush lips suffocating all around him — he was addicted, and so were you.

with your head resuming to jolt up and down, bobbing repeatedly from the decent pace, your tongue continues to flick against his leaky tip, relishing in the bitterly sweet pre-cum that resides against the very top. another muffled moan slips past your lips as you’re still playing with your breasts, feeling them bounce against each other in crude tandem.

“such a pretty mouth… ugh,” he tightens his grip against your hair, thrusting his hips into you a bit. you break your hands away from your tits to latch onto his thighs. immensely, your fingers dig into the cottony fabric of his sweatpants. toji starts to pant laboriously. heave after heave, you’ve got him sweating already. peeping down, his dick twitches at the sight of your spit dribbling down the corners of your pretty purses lips.

as it travels — it cascades like a waterfall, landing between the curvature of your chest. “mhm, jus’ like that. good girl. haah, ‘s good.”

as his hands rummage in your hair, it’s still maintaining its strengthening grip—you inhale through your nose as your head bounces in consistency. his fingers were still crispy cold, you’re feeling frosty all the way from the waist down.

not only were you feeling frosty though, you were throbbing..

it was no mistake. the sudden adds of multiplying throbs that pang against your pussy makes you start to whine as a hand of yours reaches between your thighs. your panties protect your slick arousal and a pout contorts against your lips as you’re still having your mouth stuffed full of ghostly cock.

“f-fuuuck, y’er fuckin’ nasty. play with y’erself while ya suck me off, do it.” he groans, it was as if he read right through your mind. toji’s breathing starts to pick up as he’s keeping strict eye contact with you. doe-eyed and all, your lashes suddenly shut close for a few seconds. toji meanly pistons his hips, and you moan as you drag your fingers against your sheathed pussy. peeling your laced panties to the side—you strum two digits against your slick entrance, starting to rut back and forth. toji snickers, ruffling the top of your head. “gonna fill this throat up with so much cum, you want that, sweets?”

abruptly, you pry your mouth away from his fattened dick before breathing in a gasp of fresh air. slyly, you hum, a hand wrapping around his hefty base. “don’t you mean with ectoplasm?”

“y’er mouth’s getting smart,” he sneers, grabbing ahold of your head before making you go back down.

toji started to get addicted to your frisky tongue. the way it’s so sloppy, slurping up every part of his fervor, he only wanted more.

he’s a ghost and well, it’s been a while..

as his dick perfectly tucks inside of your mouth, you take him even further. a clammy hand of yours starts to fondle with his balls and he groans. with his jaw tightening, he starts to feel his thigh pounce. “fuuuuck me,” he heaves lowly, knowing his finish was about to approach rather sooner than later. he was just so thick in your throat, tap-tapping away at your little uvula. toji stares at your pretty slobbering lips, your hands still crammed all up inside of your cunt before he presents a more thorough thrust into your mouth.

a familiar primal heat pools into the very depths of your tummy before you hear toji suck his teeth.

it’s a long, deep and sexy groan.

it bellows throughout the thin walls of your small apartment — his face turns sour and you start to feel a surprised guest get introduced on your tongue.

his cum tastes more sweet which was peculiar. usually it’s tastelessly bitter, bland and purely insipid.

but with him, it was sugary sweet. as he pours such volumes of satiny ropes into your mouth, your hands continue to cling onto his pants. it’s a lot, with the way the ghost’s cock erupts into your mouth it’s like a volcano. spitting out such gooey sums of seed. its warmth has you wanting more, as it fills the very inside of your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the savory uncanny mixture.

toji yokes your head back, taking his heavyset dick out of your mouth and you gawk at how red it was now. from the very top, a smile stretches against your lips knowing you did that. swollen, fat balls of his were all in your face, neglected and just desperate to be played with a bit more.

“shit,” he sighs, taking a moment to breathe. toji looks down at your dumb expression, more smug than anything. a hand of his cups underneath your chin before he bends down, pulling you into a deep kiss. again, you return the favor, glissading your tongue against his. it tickles and tangos together, enjoying each other’s wet company. he grunts, reveling in the sweetened taste of his own cum that’s just residing inside your mouth. no shame, no shame at all. the kiss was much sloppier this time—toji pulls away to lick near the corner of your lips, capturing a few remnants of his own seed that tries to stream down from your mouth and below toward your chin. breaking away, he grabs your neck softly, giving you an intimating stare. “you,” the ghost murmurs, his eyes flickering towards your bed. “i wanna break you.”

“you’ll have to pay for that you kn-”

“don’t make me drag you, human.”

you let off a soft playful ‘oof’ once you’re faintly tossed on your own bed. his strength was out of this world— quite literally though,

you look at toji and he inches himself closer towards you. as he leans in for another warm kiss, his body presses up against yours. he starts to grind against you, the friction leaves a wave of fuzz in your ears that never seems to go away. cold glacial lips squashing against your own as you flick your tongue against his, moaning for more. as he’s claiming your mouth in such a rough way, you start to paw at his pants. you feel a simper tug against his lips as he makes out with you, feeling the weight of the bed collapse and shriek a bit in ponderous discomfort.

“taste so good,” he grouses, withdrawing his lips to nip chaste kisses near your neck. you moan, feeling him prop between your thighs. he then licks all against the hidden crevices of your collarbone. “ever fucked a ghost before?”

“usually i’m more into humans,” you pant, and he gives you a subtle eye roll. if you knew a ghost such as toji would look this good — perhaps you’d summon him a long time ago on that stupid link.

“really, oh,” he plays along, prying your legs open a bit to take a quick peek at what he was about to destroy. with low hooded eyes, toji grunts as he sees your soaked pussy all open and on display for him. a padded thumb of his runs down your puffy slit and your legs twitch slightly as a greeting response. “mhm, such a pretty cunt. tell me though,” he huffs, enveloping all five digits around his cock to give it two single pumps. he prods his leaky cockhead against your entrance, watching you writhe underneath him. “before you summoned me, were ya playin’ with her?”

her as in between your legs, your pussy,

for some reason, toji addressing your cunt as her made you throb profusely. you felt it. an annoying ring screams through your ears as you slump back against your bed, your ankles making an attempt to lock around him. “n- no.”

“y- yea,” he mimicks your little stutter. your mouth drops as you feel yourself starting to gape open for him the moment he starts delve his dick into your pussy. he was so big, you feel the curve of the head and it’s just voluntarily crooking inside of you. toji gives you a side eye with misty peripherals, watching as you make an attempt to hide your face within the crack of your elbow. “nah, girl. don’t hide that pretty face from me. i wanna see you while i stretch you out.”

you moan, feeling his frigid fingers peel your arm away and he’s got a full face view of you.

already, your toes started to center with feelings of pure numbness. his thick cock splits inside of you so good that it’s already got you whimpering out elongated syllables. your voice was a euphony, “oh my g-goddd,” you whimper out, grabbing ahold of his shoulders. toji falls into your chest, still easing his way into your accepting walls. it’s relatively hot inside, smoldering gummy walls of yours entrap him, holding him hostage. he sibilates out a single hiss as you’re still trying to adjust to his massive size. his sack hangs from the base down and you let off a lusty giggle, already cockdrunk. “s-so the rumor’s true that ghosts have big dicks, f-fuck you’re gonna split me open.”

“heh, oh? that’s a fact, not a rumor,” he playfully flicks your forehead. a hand of his then clasps around your thigh. he spreads it apart, sinking into you further. he’s so deep, halfway in that your stomach’s already seizing. it was his tip that made you feel everything at once. the girth he has, he makes sure you feel every inch, every part. toji’s filling every area of your orifice with his spectral shaft. “ugh, clampin’ around me so good,” and he presses a palm against your tummy. “feel me here, yeah?”

and you do, as his hand gingerly brushes against the outer skirts of your stomach, your lips part into an ‘o’ shape of surprise. “y- yesss, fuck. ‘s deep, toji.”

“fuck,” he groans, and you let off a cute astounded, ‘oh’ once you feel him fully plug you all the way in. it’s a popping noise that you’ll never forget. heavy balls of his creates a single thrust and you jolt all the way back. clawing at the backsides of his skin, you whimper out a sweet melodic hum. “pussy’s gonna get me addicted, girl.”

your legs lock and ensnare around toji’s slim waist as he starts up a pace—he’s slow and steady at first. slow and steady wins the race, but with a dick as big as his, you’re already losing. not so much physically, at least not yet.

just a few fathomless thrusts from the ghost and you were whipped, starving for more. hungry even.

perhaps if this was some sort of dream, you didn’t wanna wake up. it all felt to real to just be your imagination anyway,

his hits against you were just so good that it was brutal. toji’s got you laid against your back so he can stare right into your eyes. he’s panting, gawking openly as he feels you bare down on him. your dense walls squeeze around him before he’s starting up a more salacious tempo. you could barely even keep up. you whine, craning your neck to the left a bit — to the right, then to the left for the umpteenth time. your legs were already shuddering, your cunt feels so stuffed of his shaft that you’re already flumped against the mattress. not even before long, it’s stares to bounce and judder from the clumps of weight on top of it. you dig your teeth into toji’s shoulder, whimpering at how he repeatedly thwacks his tip against that forbidden g-spot. “t- toji, tojiiii,” you hiccup, cross eyed and doe-eyed.

he could listen to your voice all day, a tune he could forever hum.

for the nth time within seven seconds, your pussy squelches from the parching sensations of pleasure. you’re so wet, sopping so much that you put faucets to shame. toji feels your slick trying to snail its way all the way down to his base. “that’s it, mhm. fuck against me, girl. c’mon, yeah,” he shushes up against your ear, licking against your lobe. you shiver, his voice all deep with a slight hint of rasp in it. a raw moan grabs itself from the back of your throat and you feel a hand of his snakes its way towards your jouncing tits. toji groans—leaning in to suck against your neglected nipples, feverish breath ghosting against your sweet skin before you whine. “god, you taste so mmf, good.”

as he’s still jerking his sharp hips into you at full might, his tongue swirls around your pretty nubs, savoring it. another ear splitting ‘pop’ leaves his lips each time he breaks away from your mounds. “could eat you up.”

“f- fuck, ‘s good, toji. harder p-pleaseee,” you mewl out, his weight that hovers over you sends you shivers all throughout your spine and body. strained deep inhales escape from your heavy lungs as you feel his calloused fingertips dance against your skin. a big hand of toji’s caresses alongside the curvilinear juncture of your body, your pretty physique—taking in your humanly beauty. oh, a sight for sore eyes.

toji was almost positive he was addicted to you, he’s fucking you so deep that he makes it so easy for you to jerk away from from your attentions. he even has a scent to him. despite his phantom being, his aurora alone was just enticing. its strong. the musk infiltrates the insides of your flared up nostrils and you whine again. your whine was more of a choke, clinging onto his back, scraping your nails down his tense back muscles.

“f-fuck, squeezin’ around me so good, baby,” he groans, leafy eyes staring into yours the entire time. toji leans in to nip kisses everywhere on your face, near your neck, and right back to your chest again. your body, he could get used to this,

to you.

maybe humans weren’t all that bad,

toji’s hips were rude, the perfect way to describe it. it really knew no bounds, he knew no bounds.

your glossy eyes glance up at him and he’s got nothing but a sly smirk plastered on his face. you study his features as he’s plowing you deeply into your own bed—the bed creeks and creeks that it sounds like it’s hanging onto his final hinges.

as you’re gazing into his features, the first thing you notice was that scar.

he’s got a slanting, slashing scar that runs down near the right side of his mouth. surprisingly, it makes him ten times more attractive than he already was. as you’re trapped in your own thoughts again, he moves his face closer to you to kiss an alluring slope down the side of your neck. just a few minutes with you and he was already memorizing each particular spot of yours.

an adorable lewd expression marinated against your features as your pussy continues to slosh and squeak against his thickened cock. he’s so big inside of you, your tummy ends up extending a bit from his angles he’s hitting. toji never misses a spot though, he’s a precise man, a precise ghost,

you’re left stupid with your tongue visibly lolling out. he can’t help but chuckle.

“look at that tongue, mhm,” and he takes the opportunity to suck against the limp muscle. you whine, hugging his beefy body tightly as you suddenly feel agitated with the pure feeling of your arousal. pretty soon, you were getting close.

he was too—he could feel it, warm bodies against each other, he was gonna lose it.

toji’s mouth goes against your neck, exposing his pearly whites and he bares a single fang. he buries it into the crook of your neck again, adam’s apple bobbing out from each guttural moan that detaches from him.

“f-fuck fuck,” you sob out, your ankles securely locking around his hips as he’s making more haste. you let off a tiny whine, his teeth gently nibbling against your flavorsome flesh. you tasted so sweet, he craved you. crimson lips of his twitch before he pulls you into another kiss. this time, it’s more passionate. as his tongue explores the very depths of your mouth, his tempo was now relentless. flimsy arms of yours continue to flop due to your weak grip against his wide shoulders before he gently bites your bottom lip. “inside,” you huff, licking the edge of his scar. a faint purr comes from toji once you do that and it’s a bit cute. “wanna feel you from the inside.”

“careful,” he groans into your neck, pressing a palm onto your tummy again. “you might get possessed after this.”

you pause, giving him a furrowed eyebrow look and he only sneers at you.

“joking, ghost cum ‘s harmless, baby. i think..”

he was nothing but a mere tease, you roll your eyes before you babble over and over in his ear for him to shoot inside of you. with ease, he’s emitting out all kinds of moans from you. you’re so loud, he’s got sensitive ears so it makes his ears twitch. your voice though, he’s so drawn in to hearing every little whine that departures from the backs of your precious throat.

welts of pleasure surge through your body as your chest recoils against his. gnawing down on your lip, you spasm once it finally approaches.

it’s a wave, pouring into you all at once. the crash was unexpected. expect the unexpected, they say.

your legs felt zealously numb, your eyes dramatically roll back as your high finally comes. it’s so much, you could still feel your cunt gaping. a whiney grunt cuts out of your throat before a squeal shortly follows. waves and waves of pleasure make way for you, pupils twinkling with stars, you were experiencing pure ecstasy.

shortly afterward, toji’s comes and when he cums, it’s a lot. he spurts into you in volumes, it dumps into you so good that you’re left twitching. suddenly, you grow quiet from the way his palm swats over your mouth. “listen to it with me. saved so much for you.”

and his words were slow, his breaths were slow, everything was ploddingly slow.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt more full in your life, your cunt constricts one more time around his length before you let off a dry whimper. “mmm,” you inhale a candied breath, he’s still buried balls deep. his hilt thrashes against your sodden entrance gently before he pulls out, staring at the mess. such goopy amounts of cum pour out of your slit, he brings two fingers to peel back against your sloppy folds. you’re covering him with your slick, viridescent eyes of his peer down to see the head of his cock still oozing out with gluey white masses of seed. “toji..”

“atta girl,” he whispers, hearing the little falter in your voice.

so cute,

he’s filled you up to the brim and that was only just the beginning. “i know. i kn—” and he pauses, being cut off as he feels you bedaub his sensitive tip against your greedy cunt. you move it against your opening slit, watching as it tries to swallow it hole before you pull it back outs you’re still oozing and his eyes flicker to white for a second. “fuuuck, ‘m still sensitive girl.” and he’s the one to let off a whine this time. toji’s weight still hangs against you before you drag him into a kiss while hearing his deprived whimpers feed into your mouth. jet black strands of his tickle against your forehead as he grinds his hips against you, already weak for you. the epitome of pussy drunk. whatever spell you had, he wanted to know what it was. perhaps your pussy was a curse he wasn’t aware of.

your taste was just too tasteful. with the way you linger on his tongue like a treat, he only wanted more. toji pulls away after a while, shaft still halfway into you—idle, not moving a single inch. he’s buried but remains still. a shimmery concoction of spit leaves each lips and toji pants as your lips stray away from his. toji’s lungs feel like they were on fire, each breath he takes feels like it’s being snatched away.

“you,” he exhales, a thumb curling underneath your chin. with a needy look, the ghost’s confidence throws itself out the window and his bottom lip quavers a bit. he pants, making you switch positions and he pats his lap, pouting. “you, on top of me. i- i want more of you. please.”

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fvsm4x · 1 year ago

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#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru]

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , dark themes , slightly geto suguru x female reader , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

„I think we should break up.“

Gojo’s words hung in the air, as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. You desperately tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to show Gojo just how deeply his words had wounded you.

“Why? What happened?“ You managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Gojo’s gaze softened, but his eyes held a distant look, as if his mind was already elsewhere. “I’ve found someone else,” he admitted, his words like a dagger to your fragile heart.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed your thoughts. Insecurity, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal washed over you. You had always known Gojo was popular, surrounded by women who seemed to possess an otherworldly beauty that you could only dream of. But you had hoped that your connection would be strong enough to withstand any external temptations.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t help but question your own worth. Gojo had been your beacon of light, the one who had brought joy and stability into your chaotic world. You had believed that your love was strong enough to overcome any obstacles.

But now, faced with the harsh reality of Gojo’s confession, your insecurities resurfaced with a vengeance.

How could Gojo have led you on, making you believe that your love was real, only to discard you so easily for someone else?

But despite the storm of emotions raging within you, you knew that you had to find the strength to let Gojo go. You couldn’t force someone to love you, no matter how much you wanted to.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “If that’s what you truly want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You wiped away your tears and caught Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were filled with regret and sadness, and you could see the pain he felt in his expression. It was as if he realized the gravity of his decision and the hurt he had caused you.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you. It’s not about your worth or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about me and my own shortcomings.”

You looked at him, surprised by his words.

“I understand,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “I know I can’t change your feelings or make you stay. I’ll start packing my things so you can have your apartment back.”

As you rose from the plush couch, your footsteps echoed through the spacious apartment, the sound muffled by the thick carpet beneath your feet. With a heavy heart, you made your way to the bedroom you had once shared with Gojo. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the impending change that would soon occur.

You opened the grand closet, its ornate doors revealing a collection of clothes and personal belongings. The air was filled with a bittersweet nostalgia as you carefully selected each item, their presence a testament to the love and happiness you had once shared. The room seemed to whisper your name, its walls bearing witness to the countless moments of joy and intimacy that had unfolded within its confines.

As you held each cherished possession in your hands, memories flooded your mind like a river. The soft touch of Gojo's hand, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the room. Each item carried a weight of emotions, a reminder of the love you had believed to be unbreakable.

Gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed, watched you with a pained expression. The reality of the situation seemed to settle in, and he realized the depth of the connection he was severing. The room felt colder, emotions hanging thick in the air.

As you folded your clothes and placed them in a suitcase, Gojo finally spoke again, his voice carrying a tinge of regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Y/n. You deserve happiness, and I hope you find it even if it's without me."

His words lingered, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the end. The room, once filled with shared laughter and intimate moments, now felt like a haunting memory. The pain was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever subside.

As you zipped up your suitcase, Gojo approached, his hand hesitating in the air as if unsure whether to touch you.

He gently brushed away a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"I'm truly sorry," he murmured,

With your suitcase in hand, you stood near the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been your shared sanctuary. It was a goodbye to not only Gojo but also to the dreams you had woven together.

As you walked out, Gojo remained in the room, the emptiness echoing the void left by the shattered relationship. The door closed behind you, sealing the end of a chapter that had once promised forever.

In the days that followed, the task of finding a new place to call home became increasingly overwhelming. The once vibrant city, which had once been a source of shared dreams and promises, now seemed indifferent to your struggles. Each apartment viewing brought with it a fresh wave of emotions, serving as a painful reminder of the life you had envisioned with Gojo.

In the midst of this turmoil, old habits resurfaced. You found yourself reaching for cigarettes and turning to alcohol as a means of coping.

It was disheartening, as you had believed that these vices were behind you after Gojo entered your life and seemingly fixed all your problems. But now, they have reappeared, threatening to consume you once again.

What made matters worse was the lack of support you had. There were no parents to lean on, no friends to turn to for help. You were left to navigate this challenging situation all on your own, starting from scratch.

Before meeting Gojo, you had worked countless jobs to pay your bills and support your studies, scraping by with whatever little money you had.

The weight of it all was taking its toll on you. You felt yourself falling apart, the stress and uncertainty chipping away at your resolve.

But then, Gojo appeared, and your life took an unexpected turn. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together. The first time you laid eyes on him was when you were working as a waitress at a cozy bakery. As he walked in, time seemed to stand still. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his striking features.

His vibrant blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear summer sky, held a depth that drew you in. His snow-white hair and lashes added an ethereal touch to his already captivating appearance. And when he smiled, it was as if the whole room lit up with warmth and charm. You were instantly captivated by his presence, unable to tear your gaze away.

To your surprise, Gojo noticed your lingering glances and, with a confident stride, approached the counter where you were working. He invited you to join him, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with this enigmatic man. As you sat together, indulging in delectable desserts, the hours seemed to melt away in a blur of laughter and shared stories.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo became a regular at the bakery, always seeking your company. The two of you would engage in deep conversations that spanned a wide range of topics, from the trivial to the profound. Each interaction only deepened your connection, and before you knew it, you found yourself falling for him.

However, amidst the blossoming romance, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but notice the parade of women that seemed to surround Gojo. He would visit the bakery at least twice a week, each time accompanied by a different woman. They would engage in affectionate displays, acting as if they were a couple.

As you observed these interactions, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Comparisons became inevitable, and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate in comparison to these stunning women. Their flawless skin, plump breasts, and alluring curves seemed to highlight your own perceived shortcomings. Their beauty was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever measure up.

But despite these doubts, Gojo continued to seek your company, showing genuine interest in your thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. His actions spoke louder than words, and you began to question your own self-doubt. Perhaps there was more to this connection than meets the eye.

Maybe, just maybe, Gojo saw something in you that went beyond physical appearances.

Motivated by this newfound hope, you made a conscious effort to break free from your bad habits. Weeks turned into months, and Gojo continued to visit the bakery every day just to see you.

However, one day, something special happened. Gojo waited patiently for you to finish your shift and then walked you back to the motel where you were staying. It was during this walk that he truly realized how difficult your life actually was.

Seeing you work tirelessly, with dark circles under your eyes and wearing the same clothes day after day, Gojo couldn’t bear to see you living in such difficult conditions. He noticed the presence of alcohol and cigarettes in your room and insisted that you stay with him instead. He wanted to provide you with a better life, free from the struggles you had been facing.

And so, you took up Gojo’s offer and moved in with him.

And that's when you became a couple.

But after two years of being in a relationship with Gojo, he found someone else. The person who used to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet words of love, and make you feel like the most important person in his life was now directing those affectionate gestures towards someone else.

You didn’t want to let him go. The thought of losing him was devastating. However, you also understood that you couldn’t force him to stay with you if his heart was no longer fully committed. Questions swirled in your mind. Did you do something wrong? Were you not exciting enough for him anymore? Was there something else that led him to find someone new?

Despite the heartache, one thing remained certain- your love for Gojo would never fade. The pain of knowing that he loved someone else, someone who wasn’t you, was excruciating. No one could ever replace the way Gojo had changed you, the way he had touched your heart and made you feel alive.

You sat alone in the dimly lit motel room, a bottle of liquor in hand, you sought solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. The pain in your heart seemed unbearable, and you hoped that drowning your sorrows would provide temporary relief.

The room felt suffocating. Each sip of the bitter liquid seemed to momentarily wash away the ache, but deep down, you knew it was only a temporary escape. The truth remained that Gojo had moved on, and you were left grappling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the half-empty bottle on the grimy nightstand and slowly rose from the disheveled bed. Your footsteps carried you towards the suitcase, which stood dutifully beside a small table, as you rummaged through its contents in search of something comfortable to wear for the night. The weight of your emotions bore down on you, causing you to push up your hoodie, removing it with a forceful toss onto the nearby chair, as you attempted to regain control over your tears.

The question echoed in your mind once again, piercing through the haze of confusion and hurt. How could he do this to you? The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in your heart, leaving you gasping for air amidst the waves of anguish.

You made your way towards the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a vulnerable and exposed version of yourself. The longer you gazed upon your topless form, the deeper the sadness seeped into your being. Your hand instinctively reached out, fingers grazing the surface of your bare stomach, as if trying to grasp the weight.

Could it be that your weight gain was the reason behind his abandonment? Did he no longer desire to be with you because of the changes in your body? The thought gnawed at your self-esteem, fueling the belief that the girl he now chose to be with possessed a flat stomach, a flawless figure, and enviable curves. Qualities that you, in your own eyes, did not possess.

Feeling the ache in your stomach intensify, you released your grip and turned your attention back to the task at hand. Pulling out a set of comfortable pajamas from your suitcase, you quickly changed into them, hoping that the soft fabric would provide some comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay down on the bed, the worn-out mattress offering little respite, your mind raced with thoughts of the uncertain future that lay before you. The realization hit hard – you would have to find a job, and fast. The fear of being kicked out of the motel, with nowhere else to go, loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind began to form a plan. You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally settling upon you.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days as you tirelessly searched for a job. The motel room became a temporary refuge, a place where you could rest your weary body and gather your thoughts before facing the world again. And then, finally, your efforts paid off.

You received a call from the bakery where you had once worked, offering you a position. Excitement and relief flooded through you as you accepted the job. It was a familiar place,

The first day back at the bakery was filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. As you stepped through the familiar doors, the scent of freshly baked bread enveloped you. The warm smiles and greetings from your former colleagues made you feel instantly welcome, as if you had never left.

You returned to your old position as a waitress and memories of Gojo lingered in the back of your mind. It had been a while since you had seen him, and you had made peace with the fact that he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

You let out a sigh as you walked over to the table where some guests were seated. Taking their orders, you jotted them down on a small notepad and headed towards the counter to place it.

As you turned around, the door opened, and there stood Gojo Satoru, looking as charming as ever. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a smile instantly spread across his face. He waved at you, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Beside Gojo stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, exuding confidence and radiating charm. It was clear why Gojo was drawn to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

With a polite smile, you excused yourself and walked away, seeking solace in the different side of the bakery. Your heart raced as you tried to process the unexpected encounter. The memories of your past relationship flooded back, bringing with them a whirlwind of emotions.

In the safety of the different side, away from prying eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

As you continued your work, serving customers and attending to their needs, you found solace in the routine. The hustle and bustle of the bakery provided a distraction, allowing you to momentarily forget the turmoil that Gojo’s presence had stirred within you.

But deep down, you knew that healing would take time. The wounds were still fresh, and seeing Gojo with someone new had reopened them. Yet, you refused to let it define you.

As you stood behind the counter, your eyes scanned the room, searching for any customer in need of your assistance. However, it seemed that everyone was content, engrossed in their conversations and meals. Your gaze involuntarily shifted towards the table where Gojo sat with his new girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but observe the way Gojo’s eyes sparkled with adoration as he looked at her. The way his face lit up with a blush whenever she smiled at him was a sight you had never witnessed before. It was as if he saw her as a goddess, someone worthy of his utmost devotion and affection.

A pang of jealousy washed over you as you compared Gojo’s current demeanor with how he had looked at you in the past. His eyes had never held that same lovesick gaze when he was with you. It was a bitter realization that he had never regarded you in the same way he now regarded this new woman.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that captivated Gojo so completely. Was it her radiant smile, her confident aura, or perhaps something deeper that you couldn’t comprehend? Whatever it was, it was clear that Gojo had found someone who made his heart race and his eyes shine with love.

As you continued to observe them from a distance, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Part of you longed for Gojo to look at you with the same intensity, to make you feel like the center of his universe. But another part of you knew that it was time to let go, to accept that Gojo had moved on and found happiness elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention back to your duties, reminding yourself that your worth was not defined by Gojo’s affections.

You carefully balanced the two deserts and the cup of hot chocolate on your tray, making sure everything was secure. Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly glanced at the table number where this order was meant to be served. Without looking up, you started walking towards the designated table, unaware of the impending collision.

Just as you were about to lift your gaze, your body collided with someone, causing your grip on the tray to loosen. The board slipped from your hands, and the cup of hot chocolate tumbled through the air, its contents splattering onto the person you had unintentionally crashed into.

Your eyes widened in shock, and panic surged through your veins as you realized the gravity of the situation. You quickly raised your gaze, meeting the eyes of the person you had accidentally drenched with hot chocolate. And in that moment, your whole world seemed to crumble around you.

It was her. The woman for whom Gojo had left you. The same woman who had stolen his heart and shattered yours in the process. The sight of her standing before you, her face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks, was like a knife to your heart.

She hissed in pain as the scalding hot chocolate made contact with her skin, desperately trying to wipe away the sticky liquid that clung to her. Your hands trembled as you reached for tissues from a nearby table, desperately attempting to alleviate the discomfort you had caused.

But just as you were about to wipe away the hot chocolate, a forceful hand slapped yours away, taking over the task of cleaning the girl's skin. Startled, you looked up and saw Gojo, his face contorted with fury. His eyebrows knitted together as he witnessed the tears streaming down the girl's face, his protective instincts kicking in.

You stood there, next to Gojo, your voice barely audible as you muttered apologies, trying to explain that it was an accident. But Gojo's anger seemed to drown out your words. He finished wiping away the hot chocolate from the girl's skin and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from any further harm. His gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and rage.

"Why would you do that?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the air. His words pierced through your heart, intensifying the guilt that already weighed heavily upon you. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the pain of betrayal mingling with the anger. But you couldn't find the words to defend yourself, knowing deep down that there was no justification for your actions.

„It was an accident-“

He took a deep breath,"Save it, I know why you did it.“

„Just because I found someone else and that I’m happy with them doesn’t mean that you’ll get to hurt them out of jealousy!“ he spoke

„I thought you were better than that," he said. The girl, still in his arms, chimed in, her voice filled with anger. "Call your manager, you need to be fired!"

Gojo's gaze shifted back to you, his eyes searching for an explanation. The weight of his disappointment and the girl's demand for your termination bore down on you. Panic set in as you realized the implications of losing your job. You couldn't afford to be fired; you needed the money to support yourself.

Desperation filled your voice as you pleaded with Gojo, "Please, don't ask for my manager. It was just an accident. I need this job, I can't afford to lose it." Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to convey the sincerity of your plea. You knew you had made a mistake, but it was one born out of carelessness, not malice.

You instinctively grabbed Gojos' hand,“Please-!“ you begged, but your hand only got slapped away by the woman in his arms.

„And now you go touching someone’s boyfriend? What‘s wrong with you!“ the girl shouted as she slapped you.

Your head turned to the side from the force of the slap, a surge of pain radiated through your cheek. The impact left your skin hot and flushed, a visible mark of the humiliation you felt. You fought back tears, determined not to let them see your vulnerability.

With trembling hands, you gently placed your palm against your reddened cheek, trying to soothe the pain. Your eyes flickered towards the girl, searching for any sign of remorse or understanding, but all you saw was a cold, dismissive gaze. Her arms crossed defiantly, she demanded that you call for the manager, her voice dripping with disdain.

„Call the manager.“

Desperation welled up within you, and you mustered the courage to speak, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and desperation. "Wait, please! I... I really need this job," you pleaded, hoping that she would see reason, that she would understand the dire circumstances that led you to this moment.

She cut you off, her words sharp and dismissive. "I don't care, call for your manager," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation or empathy.

Your gaze shifted towards Gojo, silently pleading for his intervention, for him to vouch for you or at least offer some support. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a furrowed brow and a hint of disappointment. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight of disbelief and disapproval. "Can't believe you would pull something like that," he murmured, his words landing like a heavy blow to your already wounded heart.

Your hand, still trembling, fell from your cheek as you straighten your posture. With a deep breath, you mustered the strength to bow,

"I'll get t-the manager right away," you said,

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Gojo and the girl, making your way towards the counter to call for the manager.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the phone, dialing the number with shaky fingers. Each ring felt like an eternity, amplifying the anxiety that coursed through your veins. Finally, a voice answered on the other end, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Hello- this is Y/n L/n from [Bakery]. I... I need to speak with the manager, please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The person on the other end assured you that they would connect you, and you waited anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you waited, your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences that awaited you. Losing this job would mean losing your only source of income, and the financial strain it would bring was overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of disappointing your loved ones or struggling to make ends meet.

Finally, the manager's voice came through the line, and you mustered up the courage to explain the situation. You recounted the accident, your sincere apologies, and the girl's demand for your termination. The manager listened attentively, their voice calm and composed as they absorbed the details.

After a brief pause, the manager spoke, their tone firm yet compassionate. "I will come over to assess the situation and speak with all parties involved. Please remain calm and await my arrival."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you hung up the phone.

As you turned around, you noticed Gojo and the girl engaged in a hushed conversation. Their expressions were still filled with anger and disappointment, but there was also a hint of uncertainty. You approached them cautiously, your eyes downcast.

"I've c-called the manager," you said softly,"They will be here soon to address the situation. I... I'm truly sorry for what happened. It was never my intention to cause any harm or distress."

„Sure“ the girl replied.

Months had passed since that fateful encounter at the café. You had lost your job, the incident with Gojo and the girl tarnishing your reputation and leading to your dismissal. Now, you found yourself standing by the reception desk of another run-down motel, desperately seeking a place to stay for the night because you got kicked out of the last one.

As you approached the receptionist, a tired-looking man with a permanent scowl on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “I was wondering if you have any available rooms for tonight?”

The receptionist glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowing as he took in your disheveled appearance. His tone was curt as he replied, “We do have a few rooms left, but I’ll need payment upfront.”

Your heart sank. You had been scraping by, barely making ends meet, and the little money you had left was barely enough to cover your basic necessities.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have enough money to pay for a room.”

The receptionist’s scowl deepened, his impatience evident. “Look, we can’t just give away rooms for free. If you can’t pay, then I suggest you find somewhere else to go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to rely on. The weight of your mistakes and the consequences they had brought upon you felt suffocating.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the reception desk, feeling the eyes of the other guests in the lobby on you, judging and pitying your predicament. As you walked towards the exit, a mix of shame and desperation washed over you, threatening to consume your spirit.

Outside, the cold night air greeted you, a stark reminder of your current reality. You stood on the sidewalk, feeling lost and defeated. The world seemed to blur around you as you pondered your next move, wondering how you had ended up in this dire situation.

Suddenly, a voice chimed in from behind, jolting you out of your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to find yourself face to face with Geto, your ex's best friend. His black eyes bore into yours, his raised eyebrows conveying curiosity and surprise. His gaze drifted to the suitcase clutched tightly in your hand, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Geto?" you questioned, your voice tinged with confusion.

A puff of smoke escaped his lips as he exhaled the cigarette between his fingers,"How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Suguru," he replied,

“Why are you here?” he asked, standing before you and peering into your eyes. But before you could answer, another question slipped from his lips, catching you off guard. “Where is Satoru?”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know. How could he not know? Wasn’t he Satoru’s best friend? Shouldn’t he have been informed about the breakup that had occurred just last month? Did Gojo, your ex, not bother to share the news with him?

“Didn’t Satoru tell you?” you asked, breaking eye contact with him, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“Tell me what?” he questioned. He removed the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his shoe.

“That we broke up,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you watched his reaction, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he regained his composure.

“You two broke up..?” he questioned,“Since when did you-”

“Last month we broke up,” you interrupted,

“Is there any reason why you two broke up? Everything was good, wasn’t it?” As he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He…” you hesitated, your gaze shifting to the side. “He found someone else,” you admitted, your lips trembling slightly.

“Oh,” he responded, his hand retracting from your shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes turned towards the night sky, lost in his own thoughts, before refocusing on you. “And why are you here in the middle of the night?” he asked, his gaze scanning you from head to toe, taking in your worn-out clothes. His eyes returned to your face.

“I got kicked out of the motel because I couldn’t pay for it anymore,” you replied,

His brows furrowed,"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said softly,"You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Without hesitation, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I have an idea," he said,"Why don't you come stay with me until you find a job and get back on your feet?"

Surprised by his offer, you looked at him,"I- I can‘t do that-!" you spoke.

A warm smile spread across his face. "Of course you can," he replied. "I have a spare room and it would be my pleasure to help you out. Sometimes, all we need is a little support to get back on track."

„But-!“

„No buts.“

"Thank you," you whispered, "I don't know what to say..."

He smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling,"No need to thank me," he insisted. "We all go through tough times, and sometimes we just need a helping hand. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

He took the suitcase from your hand and turned around, walking towards his house. "Let's go," he said, looking back at you.

You nodded and followed after him.

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goldenstring6123 · 4 months ago

Note

hello ! wanted to say i really love your writing style and your stories for the characters ! I wanted to know if you’d write one for Love and deep space Sylus? A scenario where you’re both sleeping but you sneak away quietly to get something from the kitchen or for whatever reason but he stops you with his powers (the handcuffs etc) to bring you back to bed. I’m not sure if i’m making sense but something along those lines! please and thank you!

Sylus: Kitchen Sneaker

Warning: No warning. Fem!reader, domestic fluff (?)

Author's note: This is a fun domestic-ish prompt to write! I hope you like it my dear pookies <3

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Sylus was fast asleep beside you.

The man was a light sleeper for the sake of his own safety. According to him, even if the building was as secure as it could be, there were some instances where he woke up with a knife to his throat. However, ever since you began sharing the same bed, he had been sleeping like a log, which was good for him and the twins because they no longer had to deal with his hot head so early in the evening.

But it was bad for you. Simply because Sylus likes to hold you in his sleep. Sometimes his hand would be over your chest, groping your breast or squeezing in between your boobs, but most times, he would be holding your wrist, checking your pulse. How was this bad for you? Well, living alone for most of your adult life, you liked to indulge yourself in a midnight snack or two. With him holding you captive to the bed, his iron grip holding on to you, it was like you had a ball and chain around your body.

You've indulged Sylus for over a week now, but the intense midnight craving is overwhelming.

Tonight, it's food over Sylus. The man can wait. Food cannot.

You scooted his hand very, very, very gently away from your body. This man's hand is heavy and large. Sylus didn't move and continued to sleep peacefully, his exposed chest rising and falling calmly. The room was very cold, and you could even hear the blowing of the AC; it was at that moment that you realized how such small sounds seemed to be so loud at night.

With every step you take, you are holding your breath even more. Even against the carpet, the rustling of your feet seemed like it could stir Sylus awake at any second. Thankfully, you managed to traverse across the room like a spy. You even had to carefully close the door shut.

You used the stairs to get down to the kitchen, and while you were walking in the hallway, the chef was just about to leave, his satchel bag on his shoulder.

He and you made eye contact. You gestured to him to 'shush,' and he laughed.

"There's some leftover dessert and pasta in the fridge—feel free to eat it," he whispered, and you grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Greg is the best chef ever. You tiptoed to the kitchen, waving him goodbye. Your eyes landed on that double-door fridge that was whirring loudly.

Finally! You could taste that delicious panna cotta and aglio olio in your mouth. Your hands wrapped around the handle of the fridge, and as you tugged, the bright blue light of the fridge lit up your face.

You took the plate and settled it on the stainless steel counter. The next one was the small glass filled with chocolate and cream. You marveled at its delicate, savory look. You took a spoon from the nearby utensil holder and dug it into the soft texture, eager to get a taste.

Before it could land between your lips—

A cold whirlwind of black, scentless smoke wrapped around the fork. It flung out of your grasp, and before you could let out a peep, you, too, were flung away from the kitchen counter.

The man let out a grunt, his eyes low-lidded and foggy, clearly just woken up from his slumber.

"Pray tell," he gruffed, his voice an octave lower. "What are you doing in the kitchen? You're supposed to be in bed." Sylus let out a sigh while he brought you closer to him. He glanced behind you and saw the unopened plate of pasta and panna cotta.

"Never mind. You don't need to speak."

"I'm hungry! Don't you know you shouldn't get between a woman and her food?" you exclaimed while tugging at the thing around your exposed waist. You thrashed and thrashed, the straps of your nightshirt sliding down your shoulders. "Put me down and go back to bed! I'll be with you in five—no, fifteen minutes!"

His head was aching from all the noise you were making, and combined with the fact that you were out of bed by the time he woke up—to Sylus, it seemed like you were testing his patience. "Did you not eat enough during dinner time? You know you could've asked for second servings."

"I get midnight cravings on occasion, but when I'm sleeping over, you tend to weigh me down in bed," you explained, flailing your legs, which were a few feet off the ground.

"So, you're blaming me now?" Sylus raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Of course, you were. It wasn't your fault you couldn't get out of bed, and it wasn't your fault that the chef made great food and desserts. He didn't like the look on your face but, regardless, put you down to the floor, his hand tugging your strap over your shoulders. His red eyes glazed over your bare chest, but he turned away, walking to that lonely plate of pasta.

"We're going back to sleep after you have your fill." Sylus unwrapped the plate and took a fork, twirling it and taking a bite. The oily, mild tinge of spiciness and Parmesan helped push him awake. He won't deny that the chef was good at his job—it was even enough for you to sneak out of his bed.

You mounted yourself onto the kitchen island, the cold marble surface cooling the bottom of your thigh. You took the panna cotta, and finally, the creamy and sweet flavor of chocolate and cream exploded in your mouth. Unconsciously, you nodded in approval of the taste.

Quietly, you ate in each other's company, occasionally making small talk. Sylus left the dish in the sink along with the fork, but when he turned to you, your nose was inside the refrigerator again. "Cake roll slice…" you uttered. The strawberry cake roll looked delicious inside the glass container.

Before you could even reach out to it, the smoke appeared at the very same spot, dragging you away from the fridge. Sylus closed the double-door refrigerator and crossed his arms right in front of you. A clear 'no' was plastered all over his face.

You let out a groan as he dragged you away with the smoky black and red rope around your waist.

When you got back to the bedroom, you expected Sylus to go right back to sleep. But instead, the man pulled a handcuff from underneath his pillow. How and why it was, there was a question you didn't want to ask him. Without another word coming out of his mouth, he chained it to himself and took hold of your wrist.

"No. You're not going to—"

He latched the real handcuff around your wrists and laid down on the bed, dragging you with him.

"Sleep."

The lights dimmed and flickered off at his word, and you just lay there, staring up at the canopy.

"I guess this is our bedtime routine now," you sighed.

"Sleep," he reiterated.

You seriously have no idea how you put up with this man.

Author footnotes: I also like to sneak out to the kitchen and eat but instead of sylus, It's my mom who sees me and then i get the clothes hanger beat up for staying up late at night lol.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

#lnds #lnds sylus #lads xavier #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds #sylus lnd #SYLUS #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus x y/n

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guiltyasdave · 2 months ago

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one of me is cute, but two though?

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant!f!reader

word count: ~2.5k

summary: Your cat-like mutation gives your life some cat-like qualities... like going through heats.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair but no visual descriptions beyond that, cat-like mannerisms, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, alternating pov, established relationship, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, talk of a potential pregnancy, a smidge of angst because of who i am as a person

a/n: i wrote this as a sequel to help me hold onto you, but it can be read as a standalone. i'm just in love with cat!reader, what can i say.

huge shoutout to @sizzlingcloudmentality who doesn't even like logan like that, but still patiently listens to me ramble about him nonstop. you're an angel <3

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates :)

Usually, on your days alone, you lounge around in the living room. Sun spills through the large windows, illuminating the space and drawing patterns of light and shadow over the hardwood floor.

More often than not, Logan comes home to find you curled up on the carpet, dozing in the sun’s warmth, barely awake and slowly moving with its shine as it travels across the room. Your skin glowing, soft breaths purring from your chest.

He likes to sit down next to you, watching you twitch with the sound of his footsteps. Sleep tends to pull you back under when he reaches out to gently ruffle your hair. He likes to wait until you roll over, bumping into the solid mass of his body.

Tries to stifle a laugh when you blink your eyes slowly, cocking your head in confusion at the unexpected obstacle in your way. Watches the recognition sinking in and a smile slowly spreading across your face as you sit up. Catches you when you nestle into his waiting arms, a Hey, baby murmured against your lips before they connect with his.

Nothing is more peaceful than the feeling of your body against him, to be able to run his fingertips over your soft skin while you bury your head in the crook of his neck. It settles in his chest like a weight, an anchor of warmth. The security that you’re his, that you’re safe, right there with him.

He loves these late afternoons, soaking up the last rays of sunlight with you. Relishing in your slow, unhurried movements, in the way you press yourself against him, in your bright smile between kisses.

Today is not a usual day. You had been restless as soon as you woke up, your whole body yearning for Logan in a way that is bordering on painful. Your skin is burning, a faintly feverish sensation simmering inside of you, steadily growing as the hours tick by.

By the time you hear Logan’s car pull up out front, your whole core is aflame with need. The air is thick with the scent of you, so much of you and so little of him. You’ve spent most of the day pacing the cabin, burying your nose in his clothes, curling up on his side of the bed, letting the scent that’s permeating his pillow cloud your senses. It had brought you a brief sense of relief, only for the aching need inside of you to come back with renewed force mere seconds later.

His nostrils flare when he opens the door, a growl emitting from his chest. You lunge yourself at him without a second thought, legs wrapping around his midst and holding on tight. The steady, blissfully warm embrace of his arms soothes the worst ache instantly. His eyes find yours, pools of darkness reflecting between you. Your breath is going fast, small pants fanning against his lips as you grind on him, desperate for more, more, more.

Logan holds you with ease, the thought of his biceps bulging sending another wave of arousal through you.

“Is it time again?” he asks, the deep rumble of his voice traveling straight to your core, stoking the flames.

You nod, breathlessly, a small mewl escaping when he teasingly bucks his hips into you.

“Poor kitten.” One hand soothingly scratches the soft skin behind your ears, drinking in the blissful expression on your face that you respond with. “Let’s go take care of you.”

“Please.” It comes out in a whiny plea, one that pulls at his heartstrings. One that fills him with the instinctual urge to protect you, to give you whatever you need to ban that desperation from your voice. It mixes with his own arousal that’s clawing up his chest, a beast that he can barely contain with how eagerly you welcome it, how you ask for it.

He keeps you in his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom in long strides. Every time you get jostled by his steps and your core bumps into the growing bulge underneath his jeans, you whine against his neck. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, ripping holes through the flannel and sending delicious pinpricks of pain through him.

He shushes you gently, tipping your head back up to kiss you again. You respond with hunger, your teeth catching on his bottom lip, demanding more.

“I’ve waited all day,” you complain, pouting at him between kisses. “Wanted you so badly.”

He hums, heart clenching at your expression while his cock twitches at the desperate need dripping from your every movement. “I know, baby. I’m here now, don’t worry.”

Kicking the bedroom door shut without looking, he turns around and pushes you against the dark wood. Trapped between the door and the press of his hips, you whine, hands working almost frantically to take off his flannel. Logan leans back a fraction, letting you push the fabric down his arms. The scratch of your nails against his bare skin has goosebumps following in its wake. You’re not drawing blood, yet. He can’t wait for when you do.

The heat of him is all engulfing, wrapping you up like a blanket. Finally he’s here, close enough to taste, to smell, his skin burning almost as hot as your own under your fingertips. You need him, not satisfied until it feels like your bodies are molding into one.

Urgent fingers drag over fabric, frantically tugging at hems, only disturbed by hungry kisses and panting into each other’s mouths. Ultimately, his bare torso is pressed against yours, muscles rippling under his skin and your fingertips. You lick a generous stripe from his shoulder over his neck, affectionately nipping at his skin, before you find his mouth once more.

Another groan erupts from his chest, vibrating against your tongue, before he moves you once more. Effortlessly carrying you over to the bed and dropping you onto the sheets, shamelessly staring as your tits bounce with the movement.

His hands toy with his obnoxiously large belt buckle, your eyes zeroing in on the action as you’re kicking your own pants off. A moan escapes you when he finally pushes his jeans down, taking his underwear in the same motion, his cock springing free before your hungry eyes. It’s a sight that you’ll never get used to. Huge, just like the rest of him.

He’s back onto you in the blink of an eye, so fast and yet not fast enough with how desperately you need him. He captures your lips once more while his fingers slide down your body. Stopping briefly to toy with your nipples, but quickly moving on until he’s right at your entrance, collecting your slick and rubbing a fingertip over your clit. It’s featherlight, so good and yet not nearly enough. You need all of him, full force, not holding back, smothering every atom of you the way only he’s able to.

“Logan, don’t tease.”

Your voice breaks over the last syllable, desperation painting your tone.

He chuckles out a sorry, so clearly not sorry at all, loving you like this, all needy and pliant for him. Just waiting for the wild, animalistic side of you to emerge, the side that doesn’t plead and just takes.

“What do you need, kitten?”

Still rubbing soft circles into your clit and greedily drinking in the sight of your writhing, Logan’s other hand possessively curls around your chin, his thumb caressing the corner of your mouth. Tipping your face up, he meets your eyes, your pupils blown so wide that they seem entirely black.

“Need you to fill me up, it hurts so bad, please.” You’re grinding against him, desperate to be closer, to feel every inch of his skin, to finally get him inside of you.

He allows himself a cheeky grin, one that you’re not sure if you want to kiss or slap off his face. “Yeah?” He’s so close, his voice a quiet rasp against your lips. “Want me to pump you full, huh? Give you a whole litter?”

A violent shiver runs through your whole body at his words, your eyes rolling back into your head and your hips bucking up from the mattress. Mewls of please fall from your lips as you reach for him, your grip digging into his waist so forcefully that this time, your fingernails leave deep, red scratches on his skin.

The pain of it surges through him, flaring up and dying back down as his skin stitches itself back together. He can’t help bucking into you, mirroring your movement. He loves when you turn into this version of yourself, all wild animal, feral to get what you want.

He can’t deny you a moment longer, not when you bare your teeth at him in a snarl, lost in the haze of your heat. He flips you over like a doll, husks a laugh at your surprised squeal that morphs into a moan when he pulls your hips up harshly, putting you on all fours. A loud hiss escapes him when his cock rubs against your folds. You’re incredibly wet, your slick already sticking to your upper thighs and coating him within seconds.

“My poor baby,” he coos, a hand soothingly rubbing over the feverishly hot skin of your backside. It turns into a groan when you only arch your back further, your thighs splaying wider apart. You’re putting yourself on full display for him, all needy, all his for the taking. All his.

Sinking in slowly, finally, he grits his teeth to keep from thrusting too harshly into your tight heat. He knows how sensitive you are in your current state, wants to give you time to adjust, to get used to the stretch. It’s not what you want, obviously, as you push your hips back against him, fucking yourself open on his cock. You’re gasping, breaths punching from your lungs, but your movements don’t falter. He meets you with a tentative thrust, chest swelling at the high moan it elicits from you.

“You still want more, huh kitten?”

You’d scoff at his teasing, at the ridiculous nickname, if he didn’t make you feel so fucking good right now. The tension, the emptiness that had been aching deep inside of you all day, finally subsides. A different kind of warmth is building inside your body, slowly spreading through you. Not the burning need that had been eating you up, but deep bliss that is blossoming from your core, now that your body finally gets what it’s been craving.

Reaching back blindly, your fingers wrap around one of his wrists where his hand is gripping your flesh. You don’t have to tell him what you want, he lets go to intertwine his fingers with yours instantly. You feel so safe, so connected to him like this. He bends down, presses kisses into your neck, nips at the skin playfully.

“Logan… Please,” you whine, desperate for him to hit that spot inside of you that only he seems to be able to reach. “Please, just—”

“I know.” It’s whispered into your skin, sealed with another kiss, before he straightens back up.

One hand finds your neck in an iron grip and pushes your upper body down into the mattress. His thrusts become deeper, slowing down each time he bottoms out and grinding into you, until you can feel him against your cervix. It’s exactly what you wanted, exactly what your body is asking for. You’re gushing, soaking the both of you with your wetness, your pussy clenching around him in an attempt to pull him in even deeper.

He growls above you, his other hand wrapping around your hip to steady you. To hold you right where he wants you, as he speeds up, and makes you take it. You’re trying to push back against him, to meet his movements, but he’s heavy against you, each thrust pushing you forward before his bruising grip pulls you back into him.

You cry out his name again and again, the only word on your mind right now, your whole world reduced to this moment, to him and you. The only other sounds are the wet slap of his skin against yours, and his growls behind you, growing louder with every thrust. Evidence of how the line between man and beast is blurring, how his need is becoming just as animalistic as your own.

He’s filling you so perfectly, your slick walls stretched around his length, like they were made to take him. Heat, pulsing inside of you, igniting you, blazing through your veins. It has never been like this with anyone else. You’re tightening around him, the fire brightening further, until it’s about to consume you.

“Logan,” you whimper, knuckles tightening with your grip on the bed sheets. “I’m gonna—”

He pulls you up instantly, one arm wrapping around you, holding you against his sweat-slicked chest. Nuzzling into your neck, the scratch of his beard almost too much for your already overwhelmed senses, while his hand’s snaking down to your clit, swiping through the mess of your arousal.

“Give it to me, kitten, come on.” You feel it reverberating where his chest is pressed into your back, feel his breath hot against your skin.

He’s everywhere, all-encompassing, as the tension in your core pulls impossibly tighter. One more thrust, the angle different than before, and it snaps. You shatter with a scream, your nails sinking into his arm, your whole body trembling while your walls pulse around him, pulling him over the edge with you.

His own roar is dampened by the skin of your neck against his mouth as he grinds himself deeper, coating your insides with his release. Your hormones spike in reaction, pushing your own orgasm to new heights, until you’re nothing but pure bliss, almost boneless in his arms.

He holds you tightly, lets the aftershocks slowly subside while he whispers praises in your ear. How good you feel, how well you take him, how you were made for him. How much he loves you.

Never letting go of his hold on you, he slowly starts moving. Gently maneuvers you until you’re wrapped in blankets and his arms. A kiss on your forehead, another whisper of I love you.

“Do you think it’s gonna work this time?”

Your voice is quiet, muffled against his chest where your head rests. He traces your face gently with a fingertip, watches you lean into the touch.

“I don’t know, baby. Maybe.”

It’s bittersweet, imagining a family with you. You age slower, but not as slowly as him. God only knows how things would be for a child of yours.

“Picture it, though.” You beam up at him, your eyes shining so brightly that he has no choice but to smile back. “A tiny version of me. Or you.”

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a reblog or a comment. it absolutely makes my day every time and i'd love to know your thoughts!

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett smut #janas fics #wolverine fanfiction

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theetherealbloom · 7 days ago

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The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.

The reply came faster than you expected.

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning.

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.

He missed you.

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.

AFTER THE PREMIERE

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”

“What?”

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”

AT THE AIRPORT

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.

The response was almost immediate:

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x ofc #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #wicked #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal masterlist #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut

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areislol · 3 months ago

Text

being transported into their world 2

►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. nothing really, proofread 🙅🏻‍♀️, caelus is the trailblazer, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! boothill lore, slight angst sahau (self aware honkai au)

►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they've been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?

►— a/n. so many ideas but so little time to write it all down!!

►— wordcount. 6.2k

The last thing you remember is the image of Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya standing before you, the smokey, dark and ominous fog surrounding you.

Next thing you know, you're waking up in the middle of an unfamiliar weight of silk sheets pressing against your skin. Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on the ornate ceiling above, its intricate patterns swirling in the soft morning light.

This wasn’t your room.

Confusion gripped you as you sat up quickly, only to be greeted by a pounding headache. Wincing, you pressed your hand against your forehead, trying to make sense of the disjointed memories in your mind.

The room around you was lavish, decorated with rich tapestries and elegant furniture. Everything seemed meticulously placed as if the room belonged to royalty.

The air smelled faintly of lavender and something else you couldn’t quite place. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

Just how did you end up here?

Closing your eyes, you tried to recall the events that led to this moment. It all came back in fragments, like pieces of a shattered mirror.

You were standing up, shrouded in a dark, smokey fog. The air had been thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. Before you, Caelus, Dan Heng, Gepard, and Bronya stood with expressions of worry and determination. Their faces flashed in your mind, each one etched with concern.

Were you in a dream?

The fog, the faces—it all seemed so surreal. You opened your eyes again, scanning the room for any clues. The furniture was heavy and ornate.

A grand mirror stood in one corner, reflecting the dishevelled state of your appearance. Your clothes were the same as before but seemed out of place in this opulent setting.

Pushing the covers aside, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cool marble floor beneath your feet. The pounding in your head persisted, but you forced yourself to stand, determined to get out of this unknown place.

Each step felt like a struggle, your body weighed down by an invisible force. You approached the window, drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal a breathtaking view of a cityscape blanketed in snow.

Tall, imposing buildings of grand architecture stretched out before you, their intricate designs dusted with white. The streets below were covered in a moderate layer of snow, and the occasional figure bundled in winter attire moved through the frosty landscape.

Your mind raced with possibilities. Had you been transported here by some unknown force? Was this just a particularly long dream? Shaking your head you cleared your mind, yes... it was a dream, it had to be a dream.

Besides suddenly waking up from an unfamiliar room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched since the moment you awoke. Turning away from the window, you noticed a door on the far side of the room. It was slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of the hallway beyond.

Cautiously, you approached the door, your senses on high alert. Peeking through the crack, you saw a long corridor lined with more doors, each one identical to the next. The silence was eerie, broken only by the faint sound of your breathing.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open wider and stepped into the hallway. You wished that the floor was covered in carpet, it was extremely cold. You had no idea where you were going, but you couldn’t stay in that room any longer.

Turning a corner, you nearly bumped into a figure standing in the shadows. Startled, you took a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. The figure stepped forward, revealing a familiar face.

Grey hair, a pretty face, tall... the Astral Express golden ticket... wait...

“Caelus?” you whispered, barely daring to believe it.

Caelus’s eyes widened as he registered your voice. His surprise quickly turned into awe, and he stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance. Without a moment's hesitation, he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold, hard floor.

"Your Gracefulness," he murmured, his voice trembling with reverence. "I am honoured to be in your presence."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his reaction. It wasn’t the response you expected. To them, you were not just a friend or a fellow traveller; you were the creator, the one who shaped their very existence. The weight of his words made you feel uneasy.

"Uh, please, get up," you urged, feeling a mix of discomfort and compassion. "You don’t have to kneel."

He hesitated for a moment before slowly rising to his feet, his eyes still filled with awe, oh his dear creator, what a kind soul they are! "Forgive me, Your Gracefulness. It’s just... we’ve been searching for you, and to find you here..."

Caelus was sure that he would get a scolding for talking to his Holy Grace for too long, he was sure of it. But he just couldn't stop the words pouring out of his mouth, all the years of yearning to meet you... and now you were here, right in front of him, before his eyes.

You offered a small nervous, reassuring smile despite the uncertainty gnawing at you. "I—I see." You bit your bottom lip, completely uncertain of what to do now as you stand there awkwardly with a curious Caelus.

"What... happened? I don't recall being here from the start," You asked, taking a moment to observe the ornaments around you. Caelus straightens his back, clearing his throat before speaking.

"You fainted a few minutes after coming out of the meteoroid. Thankfully Dan Heng caught you just in time, and then Bronya decided to keep you here, we were unsure when you would wake up."

"How long was I unconscious for?"

"Four days, your Grace."

"FOUR DAYS?!" The word came out in a disbelieving whisper, your mind reeling.

"Yes, your Grace." He nodded, a bit taken aback by your raised voice. You stood there, trying to process the information, feeling awkward and out of place.

Caelus's expression softened slightly before giving you a nod. "I'll take you to them." He guided you down the hall to another room, while you both walked you looked around once again, everything was different, not just your surroundings but the atmosphere was heavy.

You took in a deep breath, trying your best to calm yourself down. You knew that you were safe (although this place was still new to you), you knew these people, what they were like, everything.

They were famous video game characters. The very video game characters that you spend weeks on trying to find the right and perfect relic for them.

Honkai Star Rail drained your pockets, the lore and story were addictive, the play-style was addictive, and the pulling animation was addictive. Unsurprisingly, after a week of downloading the game, you were hooked.

It was a surprise that you weren't in debt... You shook your head, clearing your clouded mind. It was tough to digest the fact that you were walking right beside the Caelus!!

It was a silent walk with only the sounds of his shoes squeaking every there and then, it was clear how polished the floors were.

Caelus dared not to speak up in your holy presence. Was he even worthy of speaking to you let alone bask in your presence?

As you continued down the hallway, Caelus remained close by, his protective instincts heightened by your presence. The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, each one identical to the last.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, and the oppressive silence only added to your unease.

Calm down, you thought. No one's going to jump you..

Not long after Caelus stopped in his tracks, moving to the side as his hand rested on the door handle. The door was huge and elaborate, probably three times your size, and you finally heard faint voices.

Caelus signalled for you to stay back as he approached the source of the sound. Moments later, he beckoned you forward. You hurried to his side, peering into a large room filled with familiar faces.

As you entered, Dan Heng, Bronya, and Gepard looked up from their conversation. Relief, admiration and shock washed over their faces when they saw you.

"Your Gracefulness," Dan Heng said, bowing his head slightly. "I—It's a pleasure to meet you."

Everyone in the room had stood up from the seats, immediately bowing down with one knee, their eyes set downcast, refusing to even look at you. They remained solemn and reverent, their gestures filled with respect and devotion—an act that left you utterly speechless.

The room was silent, barely even a breath could be heard. You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, a deep discomfort settling into your bones.

This wasn’t something you were used to.

Back home, you were just another person, another face in the crowd. But here… here you were something else entirely apparently.

The realization struck you again, hard and jarring: you’d been "isekai’d" into the world of Honkai: Star Rail, a place where the characters you once guided and watched from behind a screen now saw you as their Creator, their Gracefulness.

But that didn’t make this any less strange.

"Please," you said, your voice shaky, betraying the unease you felt. "You don't need to do that. I'm just… I mean, I’m not—" You trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

How do you tell them that you didn’t see yourself as anything more than a normal person? That this whole situation felt surreal, like a dream you hadn’t quite woken up from yet?

Dan Heng, still kneeling, glanced up at you, his eyes calm and steady. "Your Gracefulness," he began, his tone soft but firm, "It is only right that we show you the respect you deserve. You are our creator, the one who has guided us through countless battles and decisions."

Bronya nodded, her gaze filled with a mixture of awe and dedication. "Without you, we wouldn’t be who we are today. This is the least we can do to honour your presence."

Gepard remained silent but his expression was resolute, as if nothing you said could change his mind about bowing before you. Caelus, however, looked a bit hesitant, perhaps sensing your discomfort more than the others. Yet, even he remained in place, waiting for your acknowledgment.

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. It was overwhelming, this level of devotion and reverence. It wasn’t something you ever imagined experiencing, and certainly not something you knew how to handle.

You’d come here, to this world, not out of a desire to rule or be worshipped, but by some strange twist of fate. The weight of their expectations, their respect—it felt heavy, almost suffocating.

"I appreciate… everything you’re saying," you began slowly, trying to find the right balance between acknowledging their feelings and setting boundaries. "But really, you don’t have to bow to me. I’m still… me. Just a person. I’m not used to this, and it makes me feel… awkward."

The room fell into a brief silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. You could see the conflict in their eyes—caught between their ingrained sense of duty and their desire to respect your wishes.

Finally, Caelus was the first to move, rising to his feet with a small, understanding smile. "If it makes you uncomfortable," he said, "then we’ll try to find another way to show our respect. But know that our loyalty for you remains unchanged."

One by one, the others followed suit, standing slowly. Gepard gave you a respectful nod, while Bronya offered a gentle smile, her previous intensity softening. Dan Heng lingered the longest, his gaze searching your face as if trying to understand you better, before finally standing as well.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, a small wave of relief washing over you. This was all so new, so overwhelming, but at least now, with them standing, you felt like you could breathe a little easier.

Even if you were their creator, you didn’t want to be put on a pedestal. You just wanted to go home.

"Thank you," you said quietly, your voice sincere. "I really appreciate it."

And with that, the tension in the room eased, the atmosphere shifting back to something more comfortable, more manageable. You were still trying to wrap your head around everything, but at least now, you didn’t feel so alone in it.

"We were worried about you." Bronya stepped forward, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need a doctor? I can get them right away—"

You shook your head, trying to maintain your composure despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. "I'm alright," you said, but even as the words left your lips, you could feel the weight of them.

Your head was pounding, a relentless reminder of everything you had just been through. The disorientation, the headaches—symptoms of something far greater than mere confusion.

You were trying to grasp the reality that had been thrust upon you, the fact that you were no longer in your world, that you had died, and now… now you were here.

Dan Heng’s eyes softened as he watched you, his usually calm demeanour laced with a subtle concern. "It’s understandable that you’re disoriented," he said, his voice steady but filled with empathy.

"You’ve been through something unimaginable. Arriving here so suddenly… it’s not something anyone could easily adjust to."

You looked down, your mind flashing back to that moment—the car crash. The impact, the pain, the sudden darkness. You remembered the sensation of being pulled away, as if your very soul had been yanked from your body, only to be confined within something cold and unforgiving.

The next thing you knew, you were hurtling through the sky, encased in what felt like a stuffy coffin, and then… Belobog.

You winced, the memory of it all almost too much to bear. "What… what did you see when I arrived?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with the fear of hearing the answer.

Gepard, who had been standing a little behind the others, stepped forward, his expression sombre. "When you appeared… you were in some sort of meteorite. It was like nothing we’d ever seen before. It came crashing down from the sky, landing just outside the city walls of Belobog."

"There was news that this month, the creator would return. Everyone was on high alert and once one of my guards spotted a mysterious crater, everyone knew that it had to be you."

Caelus nodded, his tone still filled with concern. "It was like a shooting star, only… darker. And when we approached, we saw you inside, unconscious. We had no idea what to do, but we knew we had to get you out of there, to help you."

Bronya’s gaze softened as she watched you struggle to process their words. "You were in a state of complete stasis, almost as if you were… suspended between worlds. We’ve never encountered anything like it."

The room seemed to close in around you as you tried to reconcile what they were telling you with what you knew—or thought you knew. You had died. You felt it. And yet, here you were, standing in a world you had only ever seen on a screen, surrounded by people who weren’t supposed to exist.

A headache pulsed at your temples, and you pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady yourself. The world felt like it was spinning, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

Caelus immediately stood by your side, his hands hesitating to hold you before shaking his head ever so slightly, holding your arm and waist to keep you from falling.

"I… I don’t understand," you murmured, more to yourself than to them. "I died. I remember the crash. I remember everything going dark, how on Earth did I..."

Dan Heng took a step closer, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. "It must have been a traumatic experience," he said softly, his voice gentle as if he were trying not to overwhelm you further.

"But you’re here now. Whatever happened, whatever brought you here, I think it was fate, just like how the legends had stated."

You wanted to believe him, wanted to find comfort in his words, but the reality of it all was still too much.

How could you be here, alive, in a place that shouldn’t even exist? And what did it mean that they were treating you like this—as if you were someone of immense importance, someone with power, someone they called their "Gracefulness"?

"I’m sorry," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I just… I need a moment to process all of this."

Bronya stepped forward, her expression filled with understanding. "Take all the time you need. We’re here for you."

Gepard nodded in agreement, his voice steady and reassuring. "We’ll be by your side, your wish is our command."

You stood there, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, everything that was happening now. The room felt both too large and too small at the same time as if the walls were closing in on you while the ceiling stretched out into infinity.

——

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity as you found yourself surrounded by a level of attention and care that was both overwhelming and humbling. Bronya, ever the efficient leader, took charge of organizing a grand celebration in honour of your return.

It was to be the most elaborate, grand and magnificent, parade ever. Only the best for their beloved creator.

The news of your arrival spread quickly, with messages sent across Belobog and even beyond, reaching the farthest corners of the world. Shops began to close in your honour, and preparations were set in motion to ensure that everything was perfect for the festivities that would last for months.

Caelus returned back to the Astral Express to spread the news to his friends who soon sent the message worldwide, especially to their alliances.

As the day wore on, you were never alone. Dan Heng and Gepard remained by your side, they would be your guards, though you couldn’t shake the feeling of being slightly out of place.

They escorted you through the grand halls of the Supreme Guardian’s residence, offering you a glimpse into the grandeur and history of Belobog.

The building itself was massive, with high ceilings, intricate carvings, and large windows that let in streams of light, casting everything in a golden glow.

Despite the opulence around you, your mind was still trying to adjust to the reality that had been put upon you. The remnants of your previous life, the memory of your death, the inexplicable warp that had brought you here—it all lingered in the back of your thoughts, creating an undercurrent of unease that you couldn’t quite shake.

But for now, you have to focus on the present. Gepard and Dan Heng took their roles seriously, ensuring that you were comfortable, well-fed, and taken care of in every possible way. When it was time to eat, you were treated to a feast of the finest foods Belobog had to offer, dishes prepared with such care and precision that you could taste the love in every bite.

They made sure you didn’t lift a finger, encouraging you to rest when you looked tired, and when the day began to take its toll on you, they arranged for a bath to be drawn in one of the grand, marble-floored bathrooms.

The bath was a welcome respite. The water was warm, and scented with calming herbs, and as you sank into it, you could feel the tension slowly melting away.

Maids attended to you, offering you soft towels and luxurious oils, treating you with a level of care that you had never experienced before. It was almost too much—this pampering, this constant attention—but you reminded yourself that this was how they showed their respect, their gratitude for your presence in their world.

After the bath, you were led to the room that had been prepared for you, its large windows offering a view of the snow-covered city below.

The bed was soft, the sheets made of the finest silk, and as you lay down, you couldn’t help but marvel at the turn your life had taken.

Just days ago, you had been living an ordinary life, unaware of what was to come, and now… now you were here, in a world that wasn’t supposed to exist, treated as a deity by those you had only known as characters.

Sure, today would have been amazing if it weren't for the fact of constant unease nagging you in the back, it was nice to be pampered and shown love, but at the same time, you wanted to go home, back to the place that you grew up in.

As you drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the luxury and comfort that had been arranged for you, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last.

How long you would be able to maintain this facade, to accept the adoration and devotion of those around you when deep down, you still felt like the same person you had always been—just a regular human, trying to make sense of a world that didn’t make sense at all.

But for now, you had no choice but to go along with it, to embrace the role that had been thrust upon you, even if it felt like you were living in a dream.

A dream that, for better or worse, you couldn’t wake up from.

——

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of soft knocking on your door. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a pale light across the snow-covered city of Belobog.

You could see your breath in the cool air as you stretched, still disoriented from the events of the previous day. For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a strange, vivid dream—but the grand room around you, the luxurious sheets beneath your fingers, and the echo of voices beyond the door reminded you that this was indeed your reality now.

You called for whoever was outside to enter, and the door opened to reveal Dan Heng and Gepard, both standing tall and composed. Their expressions softened when they saw you, and you noticed the subtle way their shoulders relaxed, as if simply seeing you reassured them.

"Good morning," Dan Heng said quietly, his tone respectful yet warm. "I hope you slept well."

You nodded, managing a small smile. "I did, thank you."

Gepard stepped forward, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of concern and deference. "If there's anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. We've arranged for breakfast to be brought to you, and after that, if you're feeling up to it, Bronya would like to discuss the plans for the upcoming celebrations with you."

Celebrations. The word lingered in your mind, bringing with it a mix of emotions. You still weren’t sure how to feel about all of this—the way everyone seemed to look at you as if you were something divine.

It was overwhelming, and part of you wanted nothing more than to retreat, to find a quiet corner where you could process everything on your own. But you knew that wasn’t an option. You had a role to play, and even if you didn’t fully understand it, you were determined to do your best.

"I… appreciate that," you replied, your voice softer than you intended. "I’ll be ready soon."

As the two men left to give you privacy, you dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for you—a simple yet elegant outfit that, while comfortable, still bore the intricate designs and rich fabrics that seemed to be a hallmark of Belobog's fashion.

You took a moment to steady yourself, taking deep breaths as you reminded yourself that you were in control, even if it didn’t always feel like it.

When you were ready, Dan Heng and Gepard led you to a grand dining room where a lavish breakfast had been prepared. The table was set with an array of dishes—freshly baked bread, fruits, pastries, and steaming bowls of porridge.

The sight of it all made your stomach twist, not from hunger but from the sheer extravagance of it. You took a seat, and though the food was delicious, each bite felt heavy for some odd reason.

As you ate, Bronya arrived, her usual stoic demeanour softened by a hint of nervousness. She greeted you with a respectful nod before taking a seat across from you. You noticed the way her eyes flickered to Dan Heng and Gepard, almost as if she were seeking their reassurance before she spoke.

"I’m glad to see you’re well," she began, her voice calm but measured. "The people of Belobog are eager to welcome you and show their gratitude for your return. We’ve begun preparations for a series of celebrations in your honour, and I wanted to discuss the details with you, to ensure everything meets your approval."

The idea of the entire city celebrating you—parades, feasts, and gatherings in your name—felt surreal. You weren’t sure how to respond, unsure if you could live up to the expectations they had of you.

"I don’t want to disrupt anyone’s life," you said cautiously, trying to find the right words. "It’s all very overwhelming. I’m not used to being treated like this."

Bronya’s expression softened, and she exchanged a glance with Dan Heng and Gepard, who stood behind you like silent sentinels. "Your presence alone is a gift to us," she replied gently. "We don’t see it as a disruption, but rather as an honour. The people are eager to show their gratitude and to celebrate this momentous occasion."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of unease and responsibility settle in your chest. "Alright. I’ll do my best to be what you need me to be."

Bronya smiled a rare and genuine expression that made you feel a little less out of place. "Thank you," she said simply. "We’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry."

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of preparations and introductions. Bronya led you through the city, introducing you to key figures and showing you the various places where the celebrations would take place.

Everywhere you went, people bowed deeply, their eyes wide with star-struck in awe. It was both humbling and unnerving, and you found yourself struggling to find the balance between accepting their respect and trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

Dan Heng and Gepard never left your side, their presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone in this strange new world. They were vigilant, ensuring that you were comfortable, that no one overwhelmed you, and that you had moments of rest whenever you needed them.

By the time evening fell, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. You had been paraded through the city, introduced to so many people, and shown the elaborate plans for the days and weeks to come.

All of it felt like a dream, and as you finally returned to your room, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all pressing down on you.

While you lay in bed, twiddling with the fine silk blanket, the other regions were preparing to finally gaze upon their divine creator.

——

In the Xianzhou Luofu, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation as the news of the Creator’s return spread. Within the grand halls of the Divine Foresight, Fu Xuan stood before the Council of Elders, delivering the monumental announcement that had just arrived from the Trailblazer.

"The Creator has returned," Fu Xuan declared with a calm but resolute voice. "They have descended in Belobog, and it is our duty to honour them with the highest respect and homage."

The Council of Elders, seasoned in both wisdom and combat, exchanged glances of disbelief and awe. The Creator, the one who had shaped their world and guided their destinies, was now walking among them once more. The gravity of this revelation weighed heavily on their minds, knowing that their response to this event would define their legacy.

Jing Yuan, the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu, stood quietly at the back of the chamber, his usual calm demeanour betraying a hint of solemnity. The Creator’s return was a momentous occasion, and Jing Yuan felt the significance of this event.

"We must ensure that our tribute is worthy of their grace," he murmured, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

Nearby, Loucha listened intently. His thoughts were more introspective, contemplating the deeper implications of the Creator’s return. Loucha, ever the observer, recognized the immense pressure that this event placed upon them all.

But unlike the others, his focus was not on the material offerings but on the spiritual and existential implications of meeting their Creator. He quietly resolved to find a way to honour the Creator not just through gifts but through his actions and service.

A casket would simply not do, although he was sure that you'd grow fond of it.

Hm, what else could he possibly give you...

Blade, as usual, remained silent throughout the meeting with the Stellaron Hunters. His mind, however, was not at ease. Blade’s relationship with the concept of the Creator is complex and filled with conflicting emotions.

Blade knew he had to play his part in honouring the Creator, even if it meant confronting the very things he had spent so long trying to suppress.

Preparations across the Xianzhou Luofu began immediately. Gifts were gathered from the most skilled artisans—finely crafted weapons, ancient scrolls, and traditional garments.

The best chefs prepared exquisite dishes that would showcase the rich culture of the Xianzhou. In every corner of the realm, citizens participated in rituals, prayers, and meditations, focusing their energies on the Creator.

Jing Yuan oversaw the strategic aspects of the journey, ensuring that their voyage to Belobog would be flawless. Loucha offered his medical expertise to make sure that everyone on board the vessels was in perfect health, while Blade had already begun making his way to Belobog along with Firefly and Kafka.

As the time for departure approached, the air was thick with reverence and anticipation. The Xianzhou Luofu were not just travelling to meet their Creator; they were about to present themselves as a testament to the Creator’s guidance.

Their journey to Belobog would be marked by the same dedication and honour that had defined their civilization for centuries.

Far away in Penacony, the city of innovation and creativity, the news of the Creator’s return was met with an explosion of activity. Penacony, renowned for its technological marvels and artistic achievements, reacted to the news with excitement.

Aventurine was among the first to receive the message. As soon as he got the text, he froze, eyes furiously scanning the text over and over again.

Was this real? Has the creator really come back? The one who he worshipped so obsessively?

He immediately rang Jade, his voice frantic as he spoke to her over the phone. "We cannot afford to delay," Aventurine stated.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and we must honour the Creator with everything Penacony has to offer."

Sunday, the head of the family, took charge of organizing the preparations. He ordered all renowned artists, engineers, and musicians all come together to create a tribute that would embody the spirit of their city.

Everything had to be perfect.

Sunday was enthusiastic for the Creator's return, it was not just a reflection of his usual cheerfulness—it was something far deeper, almost lovesick.

The moment he received word that the Creator had returned to their world, something in him ignited. It was as if all his life had been leading up to this moment, and now, he could finally fulfil his purpose.

“The Creator has returned,” he whispered to himself after first hearing the news, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and anticipation. His eyes, usually bright with optimism, now gleamed with a fervour that bordered on the intense.

To Sunday, this wasn’t just an event to celebrate—it was a divine calling, a chance to prove his unwavering devotion.

From that moment on, Sunday threw himself into the preparations with a single-mindedness that was almost unsettling. He didn’t just organize the celebrations—he orchestrated them with an obsession that left little room for error.

Every detail had to be perfect, and every gesture had to reflect the utmost reverence for the Creator. He wasn’t just leading the preparations; he was living them, breathing them, as though his very existence depended on it.

When rallying the artists and performers, Sunday’s usual encouragement took on a more insistent edge. “This isn’t just for any celebration,” he’d remind them, his eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s for the Creator. We must give them everything—our best and beyond.”

He’d hover over rehearsals, his smile still present but his tone sharper, more demanding. Mistakes weren’t just errors; they were almost blasphemous in his eyes.

In the kitchens, his involvement was even more intense. He tasted every dish, scrutinizing each one with a level of scrutiny that made even the most seasoned chefs nervous. “This dish needs something... more,” he’d say, his brows furrowing in concentration.

“It needs to be worthy of the Creator. Start again.” And they would, because Sunday’s passion was as contagious as it was overwhelming. Many chefs and assistants often gossiped with one another about Sunday's behaviour, he was far too obsessed.

They, of course, understood the importance of perfecting everything as well, it would be served under the gaze of their Almighty Creator, but Sunday was too overbearing, pushy and stubborn.

Everything has to be perfect.

His interactions with the other citizens of Penacony took on a different tone as well. While still encouraging, there was an underlying pressure in his words. “The Creator deserves only the best from us. Do you understand? This is our moment to show our love, and our loyalty. We can’t afford to disappoint them.”

As the days passed, Sunday’s obsession grew. He spent nights alone, surrounded by plans and lists, going over every detail until his eyes were red and his hands shook from exhaustion.

But he didn’t care. Sleep was secondary; his devotion to the Creator was all that mattered.

Boothill, unlike the others found himself in an unfamiliar situation. Normally at ease with a revolver in hand, Boothill was now tasked with selecting gifts that would impress the Creator.

He knew the importance of your arrival, but there was something that lingered at the back of his head. The memories would override his brain, successfully clouding his thoughts, all he could think about was revenge.

His home.

His daughter.

His family.

His beloved memories.

Gone. They were all gone, all because of one man: Oswaldo Schneider.

Perhaps... If he impressed you with his devotion and adoration, would you help get revenge for him? As the Creator, wouldn't you be so kind as to lend your devoted worshipper some help?

(He decided to contribute something personal—a custom-made weapon, intricately designed and crafted with precision.)

Once the word spread to Gallagher that you were finally home, Gallagher’s response was deeply rooted in a sense of duty and respect.

Like Sunday, he wanted everything to be perfect, not because of an obsessive need to impress, but because he believed it was the right thing to do.

In meetings, Gallagher was a voice of calm amidst the excitement, offering practical solutions to any challenges that arose. “Let’s focus on what’s important,” he would say, steering conversations away from extravagance and towards meaningful gestures.

He believed that the Creator would value sincerity and thoughtfulness over grand displays, and he ensured that Penacony’s contributions reflected that belief.

In his heart, Gallagher held a deep respect for you. His admiration was sincere, but it wasn’t showy. He didn’t need to prove his devotion through grand gestures or dramatic displays; his actions spoke for themselves.

He believed that true reverence was shown through quiet, consistent effort—through doing what was right, even when no one was watching.

He could just taste your happiness at the tip of his tongue, it was delicious. He began to think about your responses, what would you say? Would you accept his gift happily? Toss it away in digust?

“We’ve prepared these offerings with great care and respect, Your Grace. We hope they meet your expectations.” He would say.

"Oh, Gallagher! You shouldn't have!" You would reply.

Or...

"How bold of you to assume that I would accept such a gift from a low-life dog like you!"

Even a small smile would do.

No matter your response, he would still devote his entire being to you.

He had always been confident in his abilities, but now, faced with the Creator themselves, he wondered if his efforts would be enough. It wasn’t a question of worthiness, but of connection—he wanted the Creator to understand that Penacony’s gifts came from a place of genuine respect and loyalty.

Yet, even in this moment of uncertainty, Gallagher remained composed. He knew that whatever the Creator’s response, he had done his best.

And that, for Gallagher, was what truly mattered. He would continue to serve and protect, quietly dedicated to the Creator’s well-being, just as he had always done.

——

As the day of departure approached, Penacony and the Xianzhou Luofu were abuzz with activity. Airships were loaded with gifts, including traditional dishes, intricately designed artifacts, and artistic performances that would honour the Creator.

The entire city was involved in the preparations, each citizen contributing in their own way.

When the airships finally took flight, they carried not just the hopes of Penacony but also the dreams and creativity of its people.

This journey was more than just a trip; it was a pilgrimage to honour the Creator who had shaped their being.

note: so many wips..

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