#really feel like a burden. I was getting passed from person to person for meetings and tours and 'baby-sitting' bc I don't technically work

[fraudulent-zodiac]

20/06/24

[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

[ratsummer]

I think Phantom was fending for himself for years in the pit, running the circles from just about the age a ghoul can probably survive on their own. He was born into a small but loving pack, so he learned how to be a good ghoul kit, but once he was on his own, he didn't have anyone to socialize him as a young adult ghoul. Sure, he'd tag along with the odd band of ghouls here and there when the opportunity arose, but those alliances were born out of necessity and always quite brief.

All this to say, between his lack of guidance from adult ghouls, his trauma, and the neurodivergencies he was born with, Phantom has held on to a lot of ghoul kit behaviors.

When he's first summoned and meeting his new pack, everyone is on edge. He's small for a quint, and has a confusing blend of kit and adult behaviors. Once the infirmary ghouls have confirmed he is in fact an adult ghoul who chose of his own volition to respond to the summon, and not in fact a large kit they've accidentally abducted, everyone relaxes a bit.

At first, as they're learning about how Phantom was living for years prior to his summoning, emotions run high. They all hide it well from him, not wanting to frighten or burden him. Even so, there are many late nights in the den spent whispering and weeping as they process the things they learn of Phantom's past.

As time passes though, and Phantom settles in and gets comfier with all of them, the sadness and anger pass. They learn to interpret Phantom's unusual blend of behaviors, and they love him all the more. No one pressures Phantom to change, or tells him that he's doing something wrong. They accept him for who he is, and as long as he's not uncomfortable, embarrassed, or inadvertently harming himself, they're happy.

And oh, how they love their baby bat.

It took a while for Phantom to relax enough around anyone to purr at all, but now it's almost nonstop. Almost anything will set it off, too. Swiss walks into the same room as him? Purring. Mountain puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him still while he reaches over him for something in the kitchen? Purring. Dewdrop says good morning? Purring. When everyone gets together after a long day to cuddle in the den, Phantom's purrs stand out from the rest. He hasn't quite switched from the cooing, nasally purr of a kit into the rumbling, chest purr of an adult. He's slowly working into his chest purr, especially as he spends time cuddling on Mountain, Aether, and Swiss. Their purrs are deepest and most obviously resonating from their chests, making it easier for Phantom to imitate. Regardless of how he sounds, though, a purring Phantom is a happy Phantom is a Phantom getting many kisses.

Phantom is also working on scenting. The first person Phantom ever tried scenting was Dew, and boy was the fire ghoul confused at first. They were cuddled up on the couch, watching Cumulus teach Swiss some new crocheting techniques, when Phantom started headbutting him. To be fair, it was a gentle headbutting, really more bumping his face into Dew's jaw and nuzzling into him each time. Even so, it caught Dew off guard. Luckily, Rain was sitting on the opposite end of the couch and caught Dew's attention before he could react poorly. Dew, unlike Rain, had never really spent much time around ghoul kits, so failed to recognize Phantom's kit-like attempts at scenting. Rain mimed at him frantically until he got the memo and started scenting Phantom back. "Oh, Phantom," Rain chimed in soon after, "You're being such a lovebug for Dew. He likes gentler scenting though, sweetheart, do you want me to show you? Come here, it's my turn!" And of course, Rain instantly had a lapful of cooing, cuddly ghoul to coach, leaving Dew to roll around and be embarrassed over how in love with Phantom he is.

Phantom also kneads a lot more than most adult ghouls. While the others might do a little kneading here and there when they're feeling deeply sleepy and relaxed, Phantom seems to knead whether he's feeling calm or stressed. His most frequent victims are Cumulus, Swiss, Cirrus, and Mountain, and he kneads on whatever body part is closest. Tummies, thighs, arms, Cumulus even lets him get away with kneading on her boobs. He zones out hard when he starts kneading, almost slipping into a trance. They've all had to do a little correcting for Phantom with this behavior, just to show him how to keep his claws from hurting soft skin and to make sure he doesn't squeeze too hard. Sometimes, when he's having trouble being gentle, they'll pass him a stuffie or a pillow to work instead. He seems to knead the most during mass, Papa's chanting and the choral accompaniment relaxing him. Usually it's Mountain who will grab him when he starts getting glassy-eyed, holding him in his lap and letting him knead away at his arm.

Aether and Cirrus have spent a lot of time helping Phantom with his emotional regulation. Once he's feeling safe and secure with his new pack, that no one is going to hurt him if they notice him, he gets a bit too reactive when his emotions run high. When he messes up the same section of a song for the sixth time, he starts yelling and crying. When he slept poorly, he hisses and growls. When he trips down the last couple stairs in front of some siblings, he hides and mopes for hours, crying and skipping meals. Aether and Cirrus help him learn to identify how is body is reacting in a situation, and what emotion goes with it. They help him respond more calmly, so he doesn't hurt or frighten anyone. They teach him coping skills, like deep breathing, or leaving a room, or asking someone for a hug. It's not always easy, but Phantom is diligent and attentive, and with guidance he quickly finds techniques that work for him.

Yeah, idk. Just. I could go on and on. Phantom being a little different from what his new pack is used to and it's okay. It's not his fault. He's so full of love, and he finally gets to share it. He's so full of love, and his pack is thrilled that he shows them in his own way. Ugh. Nobody look at me.

[arminsumi]

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[cinnamoneve]

𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚.

atelophobia \ əˌtɛləˈfəʊbɪə \ (n.) - the fear of imperfection of not being good enough.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x gn!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru's been valued only what he could offer others, until he met you. ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.3k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: more of a self indulgent character study to get back into the swing of writing !!! pls enjoy <3 ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none :3

satoru gojo held many roles and titles in his life. he was a son, a sorcerer, teacher, role model, a special grade, the honored one, the strongest. the strongest. whatever that was supposed to mean.

he knew what it meant, sure, but the lines were blurred a bit around the parameters of what exactly his role was. he was satoru, gojo-san, gojo-sensei, and whatever sweet term of endearment you thought up for him. between that, satoru’s identity and purpose got muddled as the titles and meaning were ever-changing.

he didn’t feel a certain way about any of it, really. or so he thought. the one accolade satoru couldn't claim was being totally indifferent.

you almost admired that aspect of him. how his nose scrunched up when something he eats tastes off, how he played with his blindfold when he needed to get something off his chest. or maybe, it was the way his eyebrow twitched ever-so-slightly if you pronounce a word in a funny way. there is no subtle, subdued, or nonchalant bone in your boyfriend’s body. everything on his mind was said before his mouth even opened.

because of that, you knew satoru was happy to be home by the way he refused to leave your side. it’s rare he gets a decent break like this; his students had a week-long retreat in kyoto that he’d meet them at eventually. for now, he had some small ends to tie up on the homefront that he was dragging out so he could stay a bit longer with you.

satoru sat on the edge of the empty bath, admiring you as you did your skincare at the vanity. if his legs weren’t long enough to touch the ground, you imagined he’d be swinging them back and forth as he gushed about his students.

“...and maki beat mai in a one-on-one. again.”

you rolled your eyes as you clipped hair away from your forehead, “even i could’ve predicted that.”

“i don’t know why those two always find each other if they’ve got such a grudge,” 

you patted your face dry.

“it must be a sister thing,” you chuckled.

“something like that, i guess,”

“you’re not upset you’re missing it?”

satoru studied you in silence as he let the question linger a bit more. part of him was. maybe more than just part of him. he let out a hum as he thought about it.

“not really,” he concluded, “i want to be here,”

you smiled at him through the mirror as you caught his eyes. 

“it’s okay to be both, babe. be as selfish as you want,”

was it really okay for him to be selfish? nobody had ever told him before that the choice was his. even if it always was.

satoru had spent a lot of time being what other people said he should be. unfortunately, most aspects of his personality and day-to-day life were not decided by him. maybe it was atonement for the way he acts. could it be his fault? is it punishment for the gift he didn’t ask for? it’d be rich to still call it a gift. it was more like a plague, or a curse. something he had to bear and live with, master and hone. 

it was admired, it was hated. it controlled him, he controlled it.

everything he was, fundamentally, came from what he could provide.

satoru didn’t realize how exhausting it was until you came along and shared the burden with him. silently, lovingly, and effortlessly. maybe he was a little selfish. was it selfish to miss his kids in kyoto while having the love of his life in front of him? or maybe it was selfish to relish in the time at home and drag it out for one more minute with you.

being in between is lonely. 

but the loneliness will pass, just like time always does anyway. and being lonely with you is still being with you in the first place.

satoru sank into the empty bath, letting his body fold as he lay across the width of it. he sighs heavily and smiles, closing his eyes. his drama was unsurprising–all you can do is shake your head and take his place on the edge of the bath.

he peers up at you.

“selfish, huh?” 

you place your hand on his knee, thumbing over where it bends as a way to soothe him.

“mhm, why not?”

satoru tilted his head back, just barely, looking up at the bathroom fan as he tried to think about what to say next.

“i’d like to stay like this for a bit longer,”

you smile warmly at him.

“in the bath? clothed like this?”

it wasn’t about the empty bath. or the clothes he was wearing. just like how it wasn’t about him learning about your skincare routine. it was never about the stories of his students, or the way you always checked in on megumi. nor was it about how you took all of his clothes when you were cold, knew how he liked his coffee in the morning, or the way he made sure the bed was nice and warm before you joined him there.

it was so much more in so much less. in his worst moments, he was in a warm bed with you, hearing you talk about your refreshingly mundane day as you drew a nonsensical pattern on his chest.

everything he was came from what he could provide, right? that’s how it always was.

what he inherited preceded his name, his personality, and everything nuanced about him. nearly everyone in his life cared more about his ability than anything else about him. he’s convinced people knew his technique more than they knew his favorite color. the music he liked. his favorite food. trivial things overshadowed by what he could provide. 

but the only thing he had to provide to you was love.

to you, who he was came from what he could provide. and that was pure, warm love.

he was matching pajamas, two cups of coffee waiting to be filled, two toothbrushes sitting together on the counter. he was the seat warmer that he always turned on for you when you rode in the passenger seat, along with the playlist he made with songs you listened to together.

it was refreshing. 

with you, he wasn’t satoru gojo. not the strongest, not gojo-sensei, not a special grade sorcerer. 

he was him. and it was always enough for you. 

satoru when you were doubled over from another lame joke he told, begging him to stop making you laugh so hard.

baby when he had a particularly hard day at work, holding onto your body on the couch like detaching from it would kill him.

sweetie when he was being ridiculous, dramatic, and over-the-top, watching a smile tug at your lips as he intentionally got on your nerves when you tried to hide it.

honey when you didn’t feel well, and he got to spoil you more than you’d ever let him before.

among a million other things. but never what you expected of him. 

most importantly, and his favorite, was when you called him love. is that what you really saw him as? it made him melt. the jujutsu world hardened him, but you turned a blind eye to that. it was enough to make him fall in love every day all over again.

what a privilege, he thought, to be so calloused and still love.

“yeah, in the bath like this,” he muttered.

you slid in next to him, folding your body too so the two of you were sitting in the cold, empty bath with your legs sticking out of the side.

“well, i’ll join you then, love”

there it was. he hummed contently. 

satoru felt like for a majority of his life, he felt like he had to search for his other half. seemingly, he was whole all along.

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[veroniquesboutique]

A Good First Impression - Atsushi Murasakibara x AFAB!Reader

I am feral over Atsushi Murasakibara. Worms using my brain for food type of feral. Foaming at the mouth type of feral.

He is unironically my phone background type of feral.

So, uh....here's this. Personally, I feel real great about it, so I hope you enjoy it as well.

Title: A Good First Impression

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, f-receiving oral, fingering, it is genuinely only him eating you out, mention of m-receiving handjob, super intense orgasm, squirting, reluctance/hesitation about the squirting but not quite dubcon/noncon, baby used regularly as pet name, college au, fear of getting caught, getting caught after the fact, home for the holidays, parent mention

Characters & ships: boyfriend!Murasakibara Atsushi x AFAB!Reader

Word count: 2.6k words

Summary: Your long-term boyfriend is nervous about staying at your childhood home and meeting your parents for the first time for four reasons:

1 - He's tall, and people tend to comment on it. Too much. 2 - First impressions are a big deal, and what if he fucks it up with his future in-laws? 3 - He met you in college and is terrified of learning something about the you from before (spoiler: you pass the test!) 4 - He can't keep his hands off of you, and he doesn't want the embarrassment of getting caught.

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

Atsushi Murasakibara was nervous to meet your parents for many reasons.

First, his height. This was the first time he was meeting your family, and your parents weren’t exactly short per se, but he was a towering 6’10”. He hated new people having to crane their neck up to look at him, he hated the same three questions and two jokes that every person tells when they meet someone as tall as him, and he hated that he was going to have to learn the careful layout of your childhood home since it was likely not designed with someone of his towering stature in mind. It was always so embarrassing when he’d bump his head on too-low ceiling fans or when he had to bend too far to reach the sink. No one really realizes how weirdly isolating it feels to be at least a head taller than everyone around you, and that’s if he’s lucky. It definitely makes the first impression game much harder.

Second, the holidays. For some reason, instead of meeting your parents for the first time at a low-stakes dinner or briefly in public, he agreed to stay for a week for the holidays at your house. It wasn’t ideal, but they lived in the countryside, and a hotel would have been so inconvenient, so you two decided to stay with your parents. He even sat through the awkward conversation where you all had to figure out if he was sleeping in your room or on the couch. Your parents weren’t exactly the most conservative people in the world - they knew you lived with him now for God’s sake, so it’s not like they had no idea what you two got up to - but everyone was deeply uncomfortable with the suggestion of anything happening under their roof. That being said, none of their couches could handle him - re: the aforementioned height problem - so they made the disgruntled decision to let you two room together. Just no locking the door.

On top of it all, he wanted to bring them gifts, but he had no idea where to even start with holiday gifts for future in-laws he’d never met. You insisted that he didn’t really have to get them anything and that they’d be thankful for anything he put thought into, but that didn’t ease the burden of deciding if your dad was a beer guy or if he was a tool guy or if he was a sports guy or a grill guy or a music guy. The options made his head spin, and that’s not even touching all the possible gifts he could get your mother. This was it - THE first impression - and if he didn’t get it right, he was afraid of a rocky relationship with them forever.

Third, your childhood. He didn’t know you before you two met in college, so everything about you before you moved to the city is a complete mystery to him. His worst nightmare was discovering something about you that he would never be able to unsee. He had always hated the vulnerability in this moment in all of his previous relationships, and it had soured more than one relationship well before its expiry date.

The night you arrived, you showed him to your room, and he held his breath as you swung the door open for him. He walked in, looking around, waiting for the weird childhood shoe to drop, but…it didn’t. The room was fairly normal. It looked like it could be a teenage room in a movie. It seemed stale, set in time, but it didn’t give him the same feeling of ick throughout his body. Carefully, shelf by shelf, he investigated your knickknacks and decorations and memories, and everything he saw made him love the small piece of you that he knew more than the last. By the time he had overturned every stone in your room, his heart was beating harshly in the rhythm of your name.

“You look like you were expecting something crazy,” You laughed at him, having watched him snoop through your past.

He looked at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was. I didn’t find anything.”

And then he snuck a kiss.

Fourth, the final most important reason he was nervous was you. Well, to be more specific, he was nervous because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and this trip wasn’t going to change anything.

He was nervous because he didn’t want to get caught.

“Ah-Ah, ‘Sushi!” You moan, high pitched and trying to keep the volume low as you wiggle in his grip in an attempt to free yourself from the intensity of his tongue between your legs. Your wrist is pressed against your lips to dampen the sound. He tightens his grip on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart and against your body, opening you up for him, and his tongue continues roughly sliding against your sensitive, buzzing clit.

“They aren’t home. You can be loud,” He grunts against you before wrapping his lips around you and sucking you into his mouth, and you can’t help it as you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling.

“They could be home any second!” You hiss, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face, and in response, he moans deeply, sending tingles through your body.

“Then cum before they get back.”

Biting your lip and panting, nearly winded, you stare down at him, meeting his eyes watching you just over your pelvis, and when his tongue dips into you and presses against your trembling walls, you moan loudly with a furrowed brow. Your fingers tangle through his messy purple strands, pushing his face against your core harder.

He slurps the messy wetness dripping out of you, the sound lewd enough to make you blush. “God, you taste so good,” He groans into you, his tongue desperate. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days!” You laugh breathlessly, body convulsing at the small nudges of his nose against your clit as he drinks you in.

“And that’s three days too many,” he complains, shaking his head and smearing his face against the slickness between your legs. “I can’t wait like that. I need you all the time.”

You pant in response, unable to form words when his tongue finds your clit again, brushing against it at a punishing pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach spasming, and he finally releases one of your legs from his controlling grip just to slide it up your needy slit and dip one of his long fingers into you. You nearly cum then, your back arching so aggressively that you hit your head against the wall, and he can’t help the small laugh that rumbles against your nerves.

“Careful, babe,” He mutters, curling the single finger inside you, and the feeling is such a warm, pleasurable tightness in your core.

“I’m going to cum,” You whisper, dropping your jaw open in pleasure, and you feel his smile in response.

“I’m not done yet, so if you cum now, you’re going to have to handle it when I keep going.”

You whimper, lip quivering and body shaking. Breathing, you attempt to stave off the orgasm that has you dangling off the edge of sanity. He slows his movements, watching you closely as he wrings you of cute little sounds and moans and shivers, and it helps when you suck in air, huffing through your nose to stop the trembling in your lower abdomen.

“Y-you said cum before they get back,” You counter, hissing the words through your teeth as you lean up, your toes curling tightly. His tongue helicopters against your throbbing clit, and he takes the hand that was on the back of your other thigh and places it atop your pelvis, pressing down as the finger still deep inside presses up, and you feel the telltale tightening in your core that makes you panic a little.

“You can choose to cum now and be overstimulated, or you can choose to cum later at the risk of your parents hearing you,” He looks up over you with a smile, a second finger suddenly pushing into you to meet the other. “I’m a believer in autonomy.”

As his two fingers now press into the gummy sweet spot in you, you confirm the tightening is definitely going to cause many, many more problems than he’s considering. You bring your hands to grip the bedding below you, trying to wiggle away again. “’Sushi, I-I, wait, I’m going to-” You frustratingly cut yourself off with a groan as his mouth finds your clit again.

“Going to what, babe?” His voice rumbles against you, and there’s a soft wash of pleasure moving through you like waves against a shore. You can only think that it’s going to be a pain to clean after this.

“It’s going to-I’m going to-”

“Aw, baby, I need you to use your words,” He teases, batting his eyelashes innocently when you shoot him a glare.

“I’m going to make a mess,” You grunt through gritted teeth, raising your eyebrows in hopes of him understanding the euphemism, and when it clicks in his brain, his eyes go bright and wide.

He hums darkly, pressing his fingers into you deeper and earning a surprised squeal out of you. “You’re going to squirt for me, baby?”

“God, I hate that word!” You yelp, involuntarily grinding your hips down onto him and panting out in tight, restrained pleasure. “You-you gotta stop now, I-”

“I wouldn’t dare waste this opportunity. You know I love making a mess of you.” His voice is dark, his eyes still teasing as he draws circles around your clit, and between the stretch of his now scissoring fingers, the pressure on your pelvis from his large hand, and his unrelenting pace on your sensitive spots, you’re seeing stars.

Falling back, you groan again, the feeling of uncomfortable tightening worsening deep in you. “The bedding!” You exclaim, arching your back, “I can’t-ah, fuck, I’ll mess up the bedding.”

“Your parents have a washer.”

“The bedding was from my grandmother,” You groan, scrunching up your face and writhing, closing your thighs around his head when it gets too intense. Hyperventilating, you press the side of your face into the pillow, bringing your hand to your face to bite down on your hand to quell the rocking of pleasure inside you now.

“Pity,” He mumbles, distracted too much by the sounds pouring from your mouth, the clenching of your pussy, the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, the slick sounds of his fingers deep in you, and the promise of even more to come (literally and figuratively). “We should’ve put a towel down, huh?”

You groan, frustrated by his lackadaisical demeanor but unable to communicate it as the feeling of pleasure floods your body. You can feel your eyes go a little hazy, and moments later, you call out, your orgasm hitting you like a wall of bricks. It feels like an electric shock through your body, every muscle in your body tensing with a tight zap as the dam breaks inside of you. You squirt, gushing and coating the bed and, effectively, Atsushi’s face, and the only thing that cuts through the absolute sensory overload of your pleasure is his praise that he groans against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. Feel it, c’mon, you can breathe. You taste so good, thank you, baby, thank you.”

With your heavy pants and soft, whimpering moans as aftershocks of the orgasm reverberate through you, your pussy pulses and throbs in time with your heart, and when he softly pushes into you one last time to wring the rest of it out of you, you squeak out a last whine as the final wave of your cum rushes out of you and over his hand. He chuckles at the sight, pulling out of you and dragging his tongue up his fingers while making dark, teasing eye contact with you. Watching his tongue work to lick all of your cum off his skin, your body trembles with both your world-shattering orgasm and the sudden impending need that pulses through you yet again already.

“Kiss me?” You breathe softly, lips barely parted, and he cracks a wide smile, laughing like he’s disbelieving of you.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby.” His voice is tense and dark with desire, and he crawls up your body slowly, and he meets your mouth with his extended tongue. You lick against it, tasting yourself, and he moans out loud, his hips pressing against yours. His length, hard and impressive, rubs against you, and the friction makes you cry out. You’re too sensitive and overstimulated, but he just smirks against your lips. “I told you to choose carefully. I wasn’t done with you.”

His hand drags down your body, feeling your curves with a hint of possession in his grasp. When he reaches his waist where his hips are pressing into yours, he grips his belt, pulling at the buckle, ripping it through the belt loops on his pants -

The front door opens. The sound of rustling bags floats up to your room. The floorboards creak.

Your eyes go wide in panic.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother calls up the stairs. “We’re home! Atsushi and you should come down and help us with dinner.”

“Get up, get up!” You mutter under your breath, gently batting at his shoulder as he frantically slides off you and off the bed, fixing his belt and helping you by pulling your bedding off. You’re searching for clothes, quickly pulling them on your legs.

The stairs whine as someone climbs step by step.

Your face burns at the impending embarrassment. Atsushi is struggling to hide his arousal with his clothes, and you’re struggling to wipe the slowly drying slick from between your thighs. Your bedding lays in a crumpled, suspicious ball on your mattress.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother asks again, her voice much closer than before.

The doorknob jiggles against the lock.

“C-coming!” You call back, pushing your fingers through your hair as Atsushi wipes his hands down his face to clean up any mess left behind.

“Your door’s-”

You cut off your mother’s inquiry about the locked door by swinging it open. “Sorry, force of habit,” You laugh, opening the door wide enough that she can see Atsushi sitting at your desk with his phone in his hand. He nods a greeting at her.

Her eyes flit to your unmade bed, back down to you, and back over to Atsushi. A slight blush covers her cheeks. “We…we brought groceries for dinner. Would you two like to come help?”

You look over your shoulder at Atsushi who meets your gaze. After a moment, he shrugs and nods. “Sure, we’d love to.”

“Great…come…down when you’re ready,” Your mother says awkwardly, quickly excusing herself back down the stairs. Once you hear her shoes click into the kitchen, you shut the door again, pressing your back to it as you finally let the air in your lungs go in a long sigh. You look up at Atsushi who is trying to bite back his laughter.

“Do you think she noticed?” You wince, knowing the answer.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She knows everything,” He stands, lumbering across the room towards you. He kisses your nose, his hand meeting yours on the doorknob. “Let’s go help with dinner.” He thinks. “And maybe later you can pay me back with a handjob in the shower.”

You groan, the thought of the blush on your mother’s face making your embarrassment burn brighter. “Absolutely not.”

[s1llyalabaster]

Not the way you expected - Cyno

Where the General Mahamatra, Cyno takes care of you.. but in an unexpected way. ~800 words, Fluff and crack

Another one of your hacking coughs ricochets off the walls of your bedroom. You laid in you and Cyno's shared bed, sore body taking up the whole bed. Yet, nothing would ever be on par with being in your lover's arms. Obviously, he was muscular enough as the General Mahamatra to purge the wrongdoings of criminals all over the vast lands of Sumeru ; but that doesn't mean that he was uncomfortable to lay on, of course not!

Unfortunately for you, Cyno seemed to be working overtime, which was odd for the justice -pursuer as he usually left impressively on time, dropping his headpiece and weapon in seconds. At this point, you were sweating under the piles of blankets - some borrowed from Collei, yet too cold to put them away. Stuck in this dillemma, you decide to get out of bed and wobble out of your room, unsteady footing taking you to the kitchen to fetch some water.

That would turn out to be a very bad decision.

The next time you opened your eyes, you would be laying limp in Cyno's arms, but not in the way that you wanted. 'Great timing, Cyno...' you thought.

"Hey, hey! Can you hear me? Do you need me to take to you Tighnari?"

You'd never heard him sound so frenzied and frankly, out-of-charater. Yes, you've broke through his calm and cold composure to reveal softer and much, much funnier sides of him, but this wasn't something you expected nor wanted to see.

"I'm fine, Cyno...Just give me a second to steady myself, " You creaked out, slowly getting back on your feet as you found the nearest couch or chair to sit on. Your hazy vision searched for Cyno's worried eyes. He looked distraught, as any normal person would be in this situation. Coming back home to your beloved passed out on the ground would evoke some sort of panic even to an ever the cold-hearted person.

"I knew you left work early, but I didn't expect it to be this bad, " He said, voice still fast-paced from the lingering distress. Cyno positioned your arm to go around his shoulder, as he hoisted himself up while carrying your torso and legs in a "bridal carry". Occasionally taking wary glances at you, he began to walk to your shared room. And at last, you returned to your bed once again.

Cyno gently put the back of his hand against your forehead, feeling your burning skin. "We've gotta get that down somehow," he glanced around the room for anything that he could use to cool you down, and ended up grabbing a towel and water, then putting it on your forehead. "uuuuugh... so cold..." Your hand instictively went up to your forehead, but ended up interlocking fingers with Cyno. "You've gotta stay still for this to work, okay? I know it's hard , I've had one hell of a day, too."

Once you heard of his troubling day, you started to feel a bit guilty. As aforementioned, he'd already known of your sickness, but some part of you still wished that you didn't get sick, so you wouldn't have to burden him. Fever making you a bit unstable, tears started to well up in your eyes. "What's wrong, my love?" Cyno uses his free hand to caress your cheek, the other still holding your hand, giving it a little squeeze. "I just...feel so burdensome. I don't want you to come home from a bad day and have to take care of me." You sniffled.

"Don't ever feel guilty for asking for help or care, alright? That's my duty as your lover, and if anyone tells you otherwise, I'll take care of them," Cyno firmly stated, a threatening aura bubbling off his words. You smiled, how did you manage to find someone like him? You were just a regular researcher in the Akademiya, and you managed to meet him through your stoic senior, Alhaitham. During a group dinner, his jokes made you laugh (they were quite terrible, but you'd never admit it to his face.) , and his relaxed and laid-back demeanor out of work was really attractive to you.

"Hey, how about I tell you a joke to make you feel better?"

"...?"

"I don't trust the trees in the Dharma forest, they seem kinda....shady."

His deadpan face was what made you crack up the most, the way he delivers his jokes so unemotionally was really the charm point. Your giggles turned into loud laughs, and then into even louder coughs, bouncing off the walls yet again. Cyno's eyes widened at your hacking, and quickly went to rub your back to soothe you.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done that..."

"Nah, I'm better off coughing than crying."

(why do i only write for purple characters: sampo, ratio, cyno)

(sorry gepard)

[peaterookie]

Lupin Week 2024 Day 4: AUs and Mythology

Goemon's face looks like he's seen a ghost.

ahhhh god ok my stupid stupid silly au i made a year ago.... this will be a bit long so get ready

tldr: lupin died, the gang is alive. goemon finds lupin but he's a shark merman!? and lupin remembers nothing!!!

long version:

so this AU follows upon the story of shin lupin, which basically, the gang gets killed off by zenigata because he rigged an island full of explosives.

instead of them all dying however, lupin decides to knock the gang unconscious and find a way for them to escape off the island safely, leaving only him in the island to die.

the rest of the gang had no idea how they escaped and assumed that lupin had sacrificed himself for them. they woke up adrifted on the ocean until they eventually got picked up by a ship where the invisible captain from new adventures returns. but ah ill spare the details for another day

---

2 years have passed and the gang just kinda separated to do their own thing. we'll only focus on goemon cuz he's the featured character of this comic.

goemon decided to escape the life of crime that has burdened him for years living as a part of the lupgang. he's mostly a wanderer now and tries to do good and help people along the way

funnily enough, goemon is not the first person to find lupin, but I'll talk about this later. but goemon is definitely very mixed about seeing his friend who he thought was dead for years. he doesn't know whether to be happy or worried.

---

lupin, at the brink of death after the explosion, plummets down the ocean and wakes up one day, feeling like he's been rebirthed!

essentially, lupin became a merman because right before he could die, his body (i mean what's left of it 💀) interacted with a magic crystal that has the ability to grant life to a living being.

It's really rare, but it exists in clusters deep in the ocean floor or- deep under the rocks of an island :) you can say im bullshitting, which i am but i dont think exploding an entire island down to every rock has happened before, so it can kinda make sense why something so coincidental about these crystals could happen. (I AM TOTALLY MAKING EXCUSES I JUST WANTED TO MAKE LUPIN A MERMAN.)

and so these crystals used whats left of lupins body and reassembled him back, and idk other essences of the ocean to make him a merman!

the memories of his past life have definitely been buried deep inside his brain to the point he can't remember any of it though, so he thinks that he was born under the ocean and has lived there for his entire life. other than that he retains almost everything about himself, down to stealing stupid shit and messing with humans just for the fucks of it. he's kinda seen as like a nessie.

---

anyways, y'know how i said goemon wasn't the first one to meet lupin? that's because lupin has met zenigata before!

living a life with only fishes around means lupin's kinda lonely and likes to stalk humans sometimes. the interaction with him and zenigata did not end well though, and lupin has no idea why zeni wants him dead so much.

after that he's way more cautious around people that look like zenigata- hatted big men with guns. its gonna be fun once he sees jigen.

ok what else... i think that's all i want to reveal now. will i do more of this? maybe. maybe not. kinda embarrassed of this because of how silly it is but i hope you people find this interesting! byebye

[chuuyrr]

WOULD'VE BEEN — BEAST! DAZAI OSAMU

౨ৎ CW(s): gn! reader, beast!au, angst/romance, kinda short

౨ৎ SYNOPSIS: in which dazai osamu's timeless love for you knows no bounds, even in another life.

inspired by: timeless and enchanted by taylor swift !

it was late afternoon when dazai passes by an antique shop down the block that didn't have customers, but a voice in the back of his head urges him to stop on his tracks and check it out.

drawn towards the antique shop, dazai feels his own feet move and his hands push the door open, causing the bell at the top of the frame to chime as he steps inside.

there was an elderly lady at the cashier and maintaining the antique shop, but when she saw the man clothed in black with a bandaged eye, her face wrinkled into a warm smile as she welcomed him inside. he could see how the old lady was taken aback by his look, yet she remained kind as he was a customer.

dazai merely nods curtly in response to the old lady's greeting before wandering about the shop, unfazed of the old lady's watchful gaze.

he couldn't care less about the trinkets, keychains, and accessories in here, but then his gaze fell upon an open box of pictures, and curiosity gets the best of him when he notices the sign above the open box of old pictures, seeing how each only sold for a couple of cents.

dazai quietly finds himself reaching into the box and seeing that it contains photographs, which appear to have been taken years ago given that they are all in black and white.

he discovers an image of a couple holding hands at the porch of their first home, and then another, but this time it was a photograph of high school sweethearts, laughing and holding hands, looking so happy with genuine smiles.

all of the photographs he sees next show a kind of love that only comes along once in a lifetime.

dazai takes a long breath, his hand reflexively grasping the pictures a little too tightly, causing them to crumple slightly.

normally, something as sentimental as these photographs wouldn't make him feel anything, but when he looked at them again, he saw a different person.

dazai saw you and him instead, and he wished it had really been the two of you instead.

that's when his thoughts turned to you, and you filled his entire mind with questions after questions.

would you have looked at him in the same way just like the lover to his beloved in the photos did? even in the middle of a crowded street?

perhaps in another life, dazai muses as he puts the images back in the box—just not in this one, sadly.

dazai keeps wandering around the antique shop, discovering new things like a stack of books covered with cobwebs.

he takes one in his hand and silently flips through the pages, which are already brown and worn from time, and it doesn't take him long to realize it's a diary. but as he reads the sentences in quiet, he finds himself scoffing, his gaze narrowing as he picks up on the story in it.

what was this antique shop doing to him?

was it to rub in his face of what could've been?

it was just cruel and twisted.

the bell by the door opening brings him back to reality as he feels the heavy burden on his shoulders again. dazai sighs to himself as puts the cobweb-covered book back and turns his head, ready to leave now that there is another customer in the antique shop besides him.

but dazai is unable to move and stands still, completely surprised, by what he sees.

"oh, my. why haven't i come here before?" you exclaim in a soft gasp of wonder as you look around the antique shop with curiosity.

it was you in all your grandeur, looking the same as you did in another life, still smiling warmly, and he is amazed and falls in love all over again at the sight of you in front of him.

the story breaks down his mind and body as it seems to halt when you walk into the shop, catching his eyes and finding the story starting when your eyes finally meet his and you speak.

"hello," your voice was as soothing and kind as it had always been, and it sounded like music to his ears, and dazai had missed it so much.

he notices you tilting your head to the side and hears your eyes ask, "have we met before?"' and felt the want to scream yes.

to tell you how long he had been waiting and longing to see you again in this life, but dazai knows he can't as his breath hitches.

"s-sir? are you okay?" your concerned voice surprises him. you were much closer now.

"huh?" was all he could utter in confusion.

dazai sees you rummaging through your pockets and pulls out a handkerchief, only for you to hand it to him before pointing it out to him, "sir, you're crying."

oh.

he never cries. he never did in his lifetime, but it appears that even in this world, you still hold his heart for him to do so. as dazai blinks, he notices how fuzzy his vision has become as a result of his tears filing his eyes and dampening the bandages covering his left eye.

he shakily reaches for your handkerchief, tears welling up in his eyes as his fingers grazes your warm skin. even your touch in this world was the same as it had always been.

"i'm sorry.. thank you.." dazai exhales, his sullen expression suddenly hidden by an exasperated fit of laughter as he wipes his tears with your handkerchief.

as he finishes, he hands you back your handkerchief, which you accept with a smile.

"it's no problem, but are you sure you're okay, sir?" you ask again, your face concerned.

"hmm? oh, yes. i'm fine, love," dazai laughs and shrugs it off as nothing, "i was going through old photographs and stuff here in this shop and got a bit sentimental, and then i saw you."

"i see, i see," you say softly with a small giggle, shaking your head, "well, i'm sorry to bother you, sir. i'm glad you're okay."

"no need for that, dear. i should be the one apologizing for worrying you," dazai insists with a smile, a genuine smile as he waves his hand.

he sees you nod and smile again before you excuse yourself and move past him to look around the store.

as dazai turns his head over his shoulder, he finds you conversing with the kind old lady of the antique shop while digging through the things you found interesting and charming.

as he recalls the images and book he read over earlier while staring at you at this instance, memories flood his head.

dazai had found you again, and even in another life, you made his head swirl, and all he could think of was how you could have still been his.

if only the story had gone back to the beginning page instead of where it was about to conclude. despite his thoughts echoing your name and filled his mind with memories of you from the other realities, it was already too late.

the pieces were already in place, and how could he take this away from you? to see you happy and safe, thriving in a life where you were just a regular citizen, not a member of an armed detective agency or anything..

and he couldn't stop thinking about one thing;

the regret of not being able to share and live this life with you.

where you could have been his,

where you and dazai could have been the ones in the old photographs he saw earlier,

and where you could have said you two were truly timeless.

nonetheless, dazai is grateful for meeting you again and falling in love with you. he has always loved you in every universe after all.

even in this separate life, even though fate has torn you two apart in this reality.

"we would've been timeless," dazai murmurs softly to himself before leaving the antique shop, his head and heart laden with grief.

=͟͟͞♡˖ ° niki says ! ༉‧₊˚.

sigh, the kind of things miss taylor swift makes me write with the songs she wrote 💔 oh, and i am also dedicating this beast! dazai fic to @anqelically and @ruru-kiss !! (already hugging you both in advance because 🫂🥲)

[huramuna]

wine red, tears gold - chapter 1.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.

word count: 4.6k

aegon wasn't as badly injured from Rook's Rest like in canon in this AU, he has a few burn scars near his torso but wasn't crippled / bedridden.

this is for my 100 followers poll. it was supposed to be a oneshot but will be a mini series in 3 or 4 parts. this is my first time writing aegon and it will also be somewhat of a character study.

thank you for 100 followers and everyone who participated in the poll. love &lt;3 thank you @randomdragonfires for beta reading, mwah mwah.

content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn

its been so long - the living tombstone • nobody - mitski

chapter specific warnings: awkward sex, p in v, virginity loss

Every day felt like a new restraint, a new button added to the collar choking around Aegon’s neck. He had done it– he had freed the realm of the false queen, his half-sister– and lost almost everything to do so. When did it end? When did he get to relax and run the realm as he saw fit, since they so intended to have them at the helm. He wore the conqueror’s crown, wielded his sword and bore his name and yet he couldn’t do as the conqueror actually did. Rule. He felt more like a dog than a dragon these days; but that was just a pattern in his life. They wanted him when they needed him and he was to shoulder their burdens as eldest son.

His grandsire kept breathing down his neck to secure another wife, another heir, another alliance brokered with another pompous house. 

“Listen to me, Aegon,” Otto began, his fingers laced together as he sat at his desk. He had summoned Aegon to the Tower of the Hand– he was summoning the King, rather than the King summoning him. Somehow, his council had let Otto weasel his way back into the position of Hand, Aegon’s mother in tears, pleading for it. There wasn’t anyone else fit for the job since Criston had died– and he was never really fit for it anyhow. “We must move quickly to provide you with a new wife. The realm won’t remain stable if we tarry in producing an heir for the throne.”

Aegon sat in the seat across from him, feeling more like a child than a King. He twisted the signet ring on his pinky finger. “It’s too soon. It would be an insult to Helaena.” he replied, not looking up at Otto. Helaena had only passed a few moons earlier and the wound was still fresh for all of them. Aegon never loved her like a wife– how could he, they were too different, too young– but he cared deeply for her as his sister and the mother of his children. Even thinking about taking another wife this soon felt like a betrayal. He would be like his father then.

A small huff and a rustling of papers was heard– Aegon was still too distracted by his signet ring, the thin light filtering through the half drawn blinds, causing a small glint off of the bronzed metal. He didn’t want to look up to see the expression on his grandsire’s face, he knew it was one of disappointment. Aegon couldn’t remember the last time that someone hadn’t looked at him with contempt, disappointment, melancholy. 

“You must understand. You have a duty to the realm–” 

“Fucking duty– don’t speak to me of it. I’ve done my duty for enough lifetimes. I let you put me on the throne and usurp my sister and look where that’s gotten us? Everyone is fucking dead, Otto. Jaehaerys, Maelor, Helaena, Aemond,” he paused for a moment, lifting his head up to meet the Hand’s gaze head on, “Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey– do I need to proceed? The majority of our bloodline is wiped out because of you and your ambition.”

Otto snorted, standing up from his desk slowly. He grabbed a decanter of wine, pouring them both a goblet. “You misunderstand. Everything I’ve done has been… for our family’s legacy– for the realm,” he placed the glass stopped back into the carafe, “Don’t you dare act as if I am not hurting for the loss of family– but war is war, boy. People die. It is unfortunate that… the ones close to us did. But we can’t live with our head in the clouds any longer, there is a realm to run and the crown comes with responsibilities. A wife and heir are one of those paramount responsibilities.”

“I have an heir. I still have one remaining child– Jaehaera is my heir. I deem it.” he spoke quickly, staring at the goblet of wine. He had reduced his intake of alcohol since the war ended– but the need for it was always there, always aching. He suddenly felt parched. Giving Otto a haughty stare, he took a sip from the glass, feeling his muscles instantly relax.

“Don’t be daft– have you so quickly forgotten what happened when the King last named a female heir?”

“It wasn’t that Rhaenyra was a woman, Otto. People would’ve learned to adjust if…” Aegon took another sip, clearing his throat, “If she hadn’t been infatuated with her freak of an uncle, you would’ve been able to control her easier, hm? It's always been you and mother behind the crown these past two decades– not me, nor my father.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Otto griped back, gripping his glass, “Don’t speak of things you know nothing about. Rhaenyra–” he stopped, taking a breath, “Rhaenyra is dead. They’re all dead, you’re right. But there is still the whole of the Seven Kingdoms requiring a leader, especially now. A leader with a united front with a queen and babe. I won’t argue further on this matter.”

Aegon acquiesced. He would rather deal with Otto’s venomous viper tongue talking him into things he didn’t want to do now instead of his mother visiting him hours later in hysterics– he couldn’t bear it. Alicent was more of a mess now than ever. “Fine. I leave this in your very capable hands,” he stood up, swiping the whole jug of wine, “At least find me a pretty one.”

–

She was plain, unbelievably plain. Long, curled brown hair desperately in need of a trim, a poorly tailored dress that needed to be more fitted at the waist, stature too small and unremarkable to stand up to anyone of importance. Oh, and picked cuticles, the spots of red eking out from her nail beds. Mayhaps she and his mother would get along just jolly, then. She was to be his prospective wife and bear him more heirs. He wanted to shove it back in the council’s face and say he has an heir, his only living child, Jaehaera. Melancholy and withdrawn as she was, she was his heir.

The council disagreed, allowing Borros Baratheon to shove his last unwed daughter at him like a piece of meat that no one wanted.

Her eyes wafted up to glance at him, every move of hers uncertain, cautious. She was so deathly aware of each minute gesture, her posture having to be adjusted to straighten every few minutes. 

Lyanna Baratheon wasn’t of prominent knowledge and reputation like her sisters, aptly named ‘the Four Storms’ – she didn’t remind Aegon at all of a stag or a doe, but rather something more diminutive and easily killed, like a prey animal. Mayhaps a rabbit– it would be an apt description, as she had giant eyes, brown –almost black– in their hue, a shiny glaze over them as she stared at the ground. Every so often, their eyes would meet, brown to violet, and she would look apt as Aegon thought she was.

A rabbit begging for its life.

Borros Baratheon stood beside her, murmuring something into her ear. He was a boorish oaf of a man who couldn’t even read– Aegon wasn’t the brightest star in the sky when it came to matters of literature, that’d always been his brother’s realm, but atleast he could fucking read. He thought it quite hysterical that his house sigil was that of a Stag when Lord Borros reminded him more of a boar. Mayhaps he should change it. 

As he continued to whisper to his daughter, her expression went from sordid to panicked, then back to sordid. She wasn’t very good at masking her emotions– she would need to learn if she were to survive at the Keep. The tips of her fingers twitched slightly and she was obviously holding herself back from tearing into her nail beds. 

“Lord Borros,” Aegon broke the tension, “Perhaps I should show your daughter around the gardens while you speak with my grandsire. We have the most beautiful gardens here and I’d imagine that Storm’s End wouldn’t have something quite as grand,” he glazed over Borros’ blank stare, “due to the storms, of course.” 

Lord Baratheon adjusted his doublet, which was far too small for him— did the Stormlands not have a proper fucking tailor? — and nodded, “Yes, that would be amicable. It would do some good to familiarize yourself with one another before the wedding in a week’s time.” 

Aegon’s throat felt parched. He knew that they were speeding things along but he didn’t anticipate it to be this fast. Grabbing a bottle of wine from a nearby servant, he descended back to Lyanna, intent on whisking her away as quickly as possible. Not because he found her particularly interesting, rather the opposite, but he needed an excuse to get out of the room. The insistent thrum of his pulse in his neck was all too loud. His arm looped under Lyanna’s, “Come, my lady,” he hummed, trying to seem like he was somewhat collected and kingly and not on the edge of chugging the entire carafe of wine and smashing it over the next poor fucker’s head. “To the gardens.” 

He practically strung along the poor girl, who hurriedly agreed and tried her best to keep up. “Y-yes, your grace,” she mewled, her feet tapping on the ground at irregular rhythms as she hung onto Aegon’s arm, bouncing against the stone walkway toward the gardens, “King’s Landing is… very beautiful, my king– your subject must be very pleased.”

As they descended the cobbled steps down to the garden, Aegon eyed her warily, “Did your father tell you to say that?”

“N-no, not exactly–” 

“He did. Anyone with half of a brain and a working nose knows that this accursed city smells of shit. You shouldn’t lie, my lady. You’re quite bad at it,” he took a small breath as he looked at her expression– the poor thing was on the verge of tears. “You will get better in time,” he continued with a slightly softer tone, “This Keep is full of great liars and you don’t seem… too much like your father. I am sure you will pick up quickly. How old are you?”

“Nineteen, your grace.” 

Aegon resisted giving a derisive snort, instead uncorking the wine bottle and tossing the stopper into the grass, “You’re quite young, then,” he took a swig, feeling the bitter tasting liquid coat his mouth, “All the better for heirs. Or so I’m sure that we’ve both been told.” 

In truth, some would consider her a bit late in age to be married– but Aegon didn’t care as long as he wasn’t robbing the cradle like his father did to his mother, or Daemon to Rhaenyra. He was twenty-six himself and tried to remember what he was like when he was nineteen; he couldn’t exactly pinpoint an exact memory. It was mostly a blur.

“I am… hopeful to provide you with many healthy heirs, my king,” she replied, her words sounding rehearsed. She is as poor of an actress as she is a liar, then. She paused for a moment, looking at her hands, “I… do not wish to replace the late queen, her grace, Helaena– I merely wish to fulfill my duty to the realm and my family– I am terribly… sorry to hear about Helaena, my king. As well as your prince brothers. War is a terrible thing.”

Aegon blinked profusely a few times. Her words after her pause sounded genuine– mayhaps she is capable of thinking for herself. She seemed… softhearted, even if a bit naive. He regarded the bottle in his hand for a moment, swishing it around. No one had really apologized to him for his losses– the enumerable amount of them he’s gone through these past few years. They all bowed their heads and wouldn’t meet his gaze, as if their blood was all on his hands. Mayhaps it was. He swallowed, his mouth pursed in a thin line, “... War is indeed a terrible thing, my lady.”

They walked for a few hours around the garden, talking about various things. Aegon still found her quite boring and uninteresting to look at– she wasn’t ugly by any means, and could be considered pretty, but she was just so terribly plain that it bored him to tears. Her speech was all faux and he tried to eek out any genuineness to her words through different subjects– all to no avail. It seemed the sore subject of Aegon’s family was the only thing to break her from her carefully crafted script.

Eventually, they parted ways– for the better, he thought. She was a fine match, a fine age, a fine vessel for his seed to produce a royal heir and whatever other innocuous thing his grandsire needed from him. 

What a terribly dreadful life he’s let himself sink into.

That night, he drained two bottles of Dornish Red, falling much into the same state of mind he had when he was nineteen. Wandering to the Street of Silk, he whored and drank himself into a state of sloven mania.

In the midst of his drunken ramblings, he wondered if he could ever find someone who would truly love him or if his opportunity had already passed.

– 

The wedding followed in the timeline that Borros and Otto had set– as quickly as possible. The council dipped into the coffers to make it happen, it was to be an extravagant event, a new beginning for the realm. Artisans, fine bakers and cooks were all hired to make the wedding a facet, stringing up red, green, yellow and black banners, making dozens of delicate pastries and even cooking six turduckens to line the tables.

It was all lavish and opulent– and Lyanna could not feel more out of place. The past week at the Keep had been a whirlwind of planning, gown fittings, flower picking. Her sisters were there in attendance, speaking up more than she on what to pick. It was fine with her, as she couldn’t bring herself to care for it. The gaudiness of it all made her feel ill. 

She had only met with Aegon the one time, the first time. Lyanna felt she made a terrible impression— she was so nervous that day that she’d vomited twice that morning, all while her father screamed at her to get it right, to say exactly as he told her to. For the most part, she had done just that— played the perfect little puppet for him and said all those empty words that meant nothing. 

She was meant to see Aegon at least three more times before the wedding, as there were a few dinners arranged between their two families. He had been absent for all, his mother citing that he was unable to attend for various reasons but nothing overtly specific.

Alicent Hightower was a nice lady— she was warm to Lyanna, talking to her at the dinners when no one else had bothered. She was the person who Lyanna felt most comfortable with in the Keep and was grateful that she was to be her good-mother. Alicent was a bit frayed at the ends from the loss of her other children; she was haunted, her eyes constantly red-rimmed and murmuring prayers under her breath. 

The morning of the wedding, Lyanna was summoned to Alicent’s solar to get ready. 

She knocked on the door, “Your grace— it’s Lyanna.”

“Come in, my dear,” she called out, a maid opening the door to let her in. “How are you feeling this morn?” Alicent was perched on the settee when Lyanna came in, and immediately rushed over to her, taking the young girl’s hands in hers. 

“Quite nervous,” Lyanna responded, her hands quivering ever so slightly, even under the warm touch of Alicent. “May I speak plainly, your grace?” 

“Of course,” she ushered Lyanna to the loveseat and had the maid pour them both tea, then promptly shooed her out. “It’s just us now, speak your mind, sweetling.” 

“I-I am afraid that… Aegon will not like me. I fear I didn’t make a good first impression— he seemed quite bored of me.” 

Alicent took a sip of her tea, giving a small sigh. “I will do you the favor of not sugarcoating words and speak plainly like you have done with me. Aegon will not like you,” she pursed her lips into a thin line, twisting the signet ring on her finger, “Aegon is a creature of debauchery and sin— and you are a good, pious girl. You are like oil and water.” her brown eyes met Lyanna’s, her expression softening. The two women had a fast camaraderie, praying together each morning in the Sept. “You… may not love him, or even like him— but there is a duty upon you to fulfill. It is a burden we carry as women, my dear. We are always behest to the men in our lives,” she stopped, her eyes glazing over with a far-away look, “I don’t mean to be discouraging. You are a… good hearted young woman and I believe you can channel that into something positive as the Queen.” 

Lyanna felt her stomach quivering at Alicent’s words, her skin flushing. “I… appreciate your plain speech, your grace. I just… do not wish to displease him.”

Alicent’s mouth twitched at each end as if she were mulling something over. “It will be hard to please him, my dear. You are nothing like the women that usually please him,” she wiped a hand down her face, “You remind me so much of myself, Lyanna. Pushed into something you are… ill-suited for. You’re a sweet and kindhearted girl and I don’t wish for you to tear yourself apart on the inside and feel as if you’re not good enough for him– you are, you are too good for him, too pure, too-” Alicent took a measured breath, “You are not what he wants and you never will be, my dear. It will do you well to know that now rather than years later. There is always someone else in their eyes– women like you and I do what we can. I pray you will find things that keep you happy.”

Lyanna picked up her tea cup with trembling hands, taking a sip. There seemed to be more to Alicent’s words than them just being about Aegon– but she didn’t want to push it. Dipping her head, she thanked her good-mother-to-be once more.

– 

“Wake up, wake up!” a voice boomed, rousing Aegon from his haze as a carafe of cold water was poured on him. The girl latched to his cock like a leech let out a shrill scream and scrambled away.

“Fucking hell– who the fuck?” Aegon slurred, blinking profusely half a dozen times before his vision came into focus. It was one of the Kingsguard, one more behest to his grandsire than him– and his grandsire, Otto, who had the now empty container of water in hand.

“Wake up, you ingrate,” Otto growled, grabbing his grandson by his collar, hoisting him up onto his feet, smacking his cheek gently. “Your wedding is in two hours and you’re passed out in a whorehouse. You’re the king, for the Seven’s sake– I thought you left this debauchery behind, atleast have your whores at the keep instead of being in these pits of sin.” 

“You can put a number of different hats on a bear, you know,” Aegon slumped against the wall, “Many kinds of hats; a hood, a felted dante, a linen coif, a cowl, a straw hat, a jester’s garb– heh, that’d be quite funny–” 

“Is there a point to your drunken babbling, Aegon?”

“Yes, ah– you can put many types of hats on a bear and change its look but at the end of the day, its still just a fucking bear,” he straightened out his stained tunic, “Point being– you can stick a crown on my head, put a sword in my hand and put me through a war to keep me on that fucking throne but guess what, grandsire, I am still just a bear at the end of the day.”

Otto stared at him, brow furrowed. “You aren’t a bear, you’re a dragon and a king, so act like it. You are getting married in two hours and you look like a sloven mess. You’re lucky that Borros is as blind for power and recognition as he is or he would take his daughter back to Storm’s End and you’ll be stuck with the next best choice.” 

“That boring rube of a girl was my best choice? I must be fucked, then, either way.”

Otto and his Kingsguard dog dragged Aegon back to the keep, and observed while maids scrubbed him clean, red and raw. He was put in a nicely fit green suit, his House cloak strapped to his shoulders. It was a whirlwind of events that led up to the doors of the Sept being opened and Aegon ushered in.

His stomach churned and he felt sixteen again, forced to wed his sister. He remembered being hardly conscious throughout the ceremony, fumbling over his cloak and practically smothering Helaena in it.

He looked down the aisle at Lyanna, who was dressed in a pale yellow dress with long, flowing sleeves. She had a high collar with black lining and antler embroidery all over the garment. It was actually well fitted this time, likely thanks to his mother, and it turned out she actually had a figure, with plush hips and a well-endowed chest. Her brown hair was half up, half down with an assortment of intricate braids– it reminded him of how Rhaenyra used to wear her hair and he wondered who thought to style it like that, and he wondered if he was the only one who noticed.

As he walked down the aisle, he saw his mother in the front row– she was crying, thumbing a pendant in the shape of a Seven Pointed Star. 

The ceremony was a blur to him, as he put the cloak over her shoulders and sealed their union with a kiss– a chaste one. She tasted like lavender tea. As he pulled back, he noticed that her eyes were rimmed with tears, and he felt the familiar sting of tears in his own eyes.

The feast was much the same, as he drank himself into a numbing stupor. He only had one moment of clarity, as some of the rowdy guests began to poke and prod at Lyanna, talking about the bedding ceremony. She looked visibly uncomfortable, picking at her nail beds under the table. Something about the sight of her discomfort and pain stirred something in Aegon that he couldn’t name– maybe he was feeling sentimental from the alcohol, but a surge of possessiveness flowed through him. He wasn’t known to be possessive, much the opposite in fact. But the egregious actions of these men pawing at his wife– their fucking queen, mind them– making disgusting insinuations. If she were a whore, it’d be different– but she was so… innocent, so coerced in all of this just as he was, it felt wrong. 

Aegon snapped, slamming his cup down, “There won’t be any fucking bedding ceremony,” he growled, “My wife and I will be retiring to our chambers– alone. And if… any one of you lays another paw on her, you will lose it.”

Lyanna stared at Aegon, those huge brown eyes wide. Her lips were parted slightly as he once again strung her along the halls to his– no, their– chambers. She was shaking.

Once in their chambers, he let go of her, uncorking another bottle of wine and taking a swig. “I presume you think that this is where I will fuck you, hm? Stick my prick in you and make an heir and we will all live happily ever after like a child’s storybook.”

Lyanna stared down at her feet. “It… it would be… the duty of husband and wife to consummate–”

“Fuck duty! I’m not going to fuck some weepy eyed maiden because my old fuck grandsire said so. I don’t have need of you in that way.”

Her hands were trembling as she unlaced the back of her dress, her movements autonomous– she was doing what she thought she should be doing in this situation. She began to undress, slipping her gown off and leaving her in her silken shift, which didn’t leave much to the imagination. The sight of her body, soft, stirred something within him for a moment, like a spark trying to ignite kindling.

“We don’t have to do this, Lyanna,” he murmured, using her name for the first time. He put down the wine bottle. “We can wait.”

“N-no! Please, I want to– please,” Lyanna whispered, practically pleading for it, as if she wanted to get it over with. “Please.”

Aegon rubbed a hand down his face. “Get on the bed then. Lie on your stomach.”

She did as she was told, laying flat on the bed on her stomach. She clutched some pillows as a lifeline.

He knew he should warm her up, he knew that they should want to touch one another, he should want to see her face– but he didn’t. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, or touch her for longer than was necessary. He barely shimmied down his trousers before he began poking at her entrance with a half-hard cock, partially trying to give her a moment to get used to the sensations, and partially trying to find where he was supposed to stick it– he knew, of course, he’d fucked his way through King’s Landing and then some, but he hadn’t fucked many maidens, and especially not when he was blind drunk.

Eventually, he hit home and slid into her, his movements slow at first. He could hear her whimpers and knew they weren’t of pleasure. It reminded him of his wedding night with Helaena where they’d both cried– all the memories of that night came flooding back, causing him to falter.

Lyanna looked back at him, her eyes puffy and red, “I-Is it over?” 

Aegon swallowed sharply, cringing as he stared at her. The moment of arousal he had– purely from stimulation alone– was gone now, his half-hard erection deflating completely. “Fuck– yes, it’s over.” he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it in fact had hardly started before it was over– and not in the good way. He pulled out of her, taking in a deep breath as he walked to the water basin and soaked a cloth with warm water, offering it to her. “Wipe yourself– it will help with the… pain… and blood.” 

She took the cloth, wiping away the remnants of their half-fulfilled consummation. “I-I’m… sorry,” Lyanna whispered, sniffling, “I know I am not what you want.” 

His mouth was pulled into a thin line as he turned away. “You’re right. You aren’t.”

They fell into bed next to each other and Aegon’s mind was swimming as he tried to sleep. He didn’t know what he wanted. He never wanted any of this– he just wanted to be a kid again with no responsibilities, with all of his siblings, even Rhaenyra– he would’ve… he would’ve been nicer to all of them, he wouldn’t of picked on Aemond, he would’ve gotten to know Rhaenyra better, he would’ve played with Helaena’s bugs, he would’ve taught Daeron all of the secrets of the castle. He would’ve told his grandsire to fuck off when they were to crown him and had Sunfyre char him to a crisp and given the crown to Rhaenyra.

He would’ve been loved then.

He just wanted to be loved.

[bestpigeon]

Any chance we can get a Lucifer x platonic sinner reader who sees the king of hell as a father figure? Perhaps reader was like Lucifer’s personal guard/assistant who arrived in hell over a century ago, and has been loyal to the Morningstar family, over the years seeing him less as his king but as a father? And during Lucifer’s mega depression time, always gave his best to cheer him up. Reader never admits it, as he feels he must know his place, and not overstep, but Lucifer starts to view reader as family too.

This is an amazing idea omg, thank you sm! Also, I did see your other request, this will be x platonic male!

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-A NEW FATHER-

Lucifer x platonic male sinner

Warnings - none?

Words - 1.2k

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I have been working for King Lucifer for a long time. Around a centry to be exact, so a long time. Im simply just a worker. I pass on messages and help Lucifer when he needs. Kind of like a personal assistant. When i first fell upon hell, i landed in a pickle. I landed and crushed, two out of multiple imps. They weren't pleased and started attacking me, Lucifer was quick to the rescue. I've been working with him every since.

Lucifer had just received a call from his daughter, Charlie, and is currently walking around his room rapidly. He's stressed, worried, excited, and clearly overwhealmed.

"Charlie wants to see me! but what if i mess up? oohh no, i can't. i have to impress her-" He says. He was basically talking to himself. i walk towards him in an attempt to comfort him.

"Sir? There's nothing to worry about, i can assure you, everything will be fine." I say as a hand moved to his shoulder. He sighs and stands sationary, finally. I smile at him, and he just rubs his forehead.

"Yeah - yeah, just dont want to embarrass myself, yknow?" He says, i think for a while before opening my mouth to speak, but i get quickly interrupted.

"ooh! what if you join me? Im sure Charlie would want to meet you, and you always help me calm down." He says as he moves to put both his hands on my shoudlers and pulls me down to his height. I didn't really mind the idea, but i didn't want to be a burden.

"i mean, sure? But i wouldn't want to get in the way-" I say before he shakes me rapidly.

"It'll be fine! Go get your stuff, " He says as he walks out the corridor and into his bedroom.

"My daughter wants to see meee!" He says as he dissapeares into his room. I smile and leave to go pack. I couldn't help but feel excited. i mean, I've always wanted to meet Charlie, and it's like a free vacation! Me and Lucifer have been close for a while now, so him picking me to come with him is understandable.

I pack my stuff and me and Lucifer leave together. He opens a portal and knocks on the front door to a hotel. I've heard Lucifer talk about this place a lot. He breags all the time that his own child runs it, and he's proud of her. I couldn't help but appreciate his passion and love for Charlie. I've never really had any type of parental figure, or at least we dont talk to me anymore. I dont even know where they are. they could be in heaven. Either way, i can't help but feel attached to Lucifer. Almost like he's replacing my father. He treats me with care, and i just can't help but feel like he's more than my boss, a father almost.

Of course, I'd never tell him that.

The door opens, and Lucifer walks in. He automatically hugs Charlie and looks around. I step in quietly and just observe. I make eye contact with Charlie, and i smile. I turn to her while Lucifer is on the ground talking to a cat.

"Hi, Lucifers told me lots about you Charlie, its nice to meet you." I say as i extened my hand out for a hand shake. She smiles widley and grabs my hand, and rapidly shakes it.

"Hi! It's nice to meet you!" She says with a big smile smothered on her face. It gets interrupted by Lucifer standing between us, putting a hand on each of our shoulders. He smiles widley at us. This trip is going to be fun.

-3 days later-

It's me and Lucfiers' third day staying in Charlies hotel. It's been quite pleasent so far. Appart from the Lucifer and Alastor tension. Me and Charlie have been hanging out a lot too, talking, walking, laughing. I enjoy being around Charlie, shes lovley, probably too nice to be hell, but i probably shouldn't judge a book by its cover. We are currently chatting in her office, mainly getting to know each other and sometimes throwing in a bit about how lucifers been.

"So, my dad saved you, and you've worked with him ever since? wow, you're really loyal." She says as she leans on her elbows on her desk. I smile at her and nod.

"Yeah, he treats me like a friend." I say, Charlie nods and sighs.

"Thank you for taking care of my father.. and are you sure you just see Lucifer as a friend?" She says as she tilts her head while keeping eye contact with me. I sigh and look down at the floor.

"Um, well.. i mean, he's like family to me? a father, maybe." I say. Charlies expression softens, and she smiles.

"That's okay! I mean, you being my brother sounds nice. Why dont you tell him? You're basically family to him anyway. He normally isolates himself." She says as she leans forward. We keep eye contact for a while before i smile and then nod.

"That.. dosent sound bad. I dont think he sees me as a son, though, so can we keep this a secret for now?" I say as i stand up. It was quite late and i needed some sleep. It's been a long day.

"Yeah, of course! Go get some sleep, todays been exahasting." She says as she waves at me. I smile and wave back before leaving and shutting the door. I get jumpscared but Lucifer, who appears around the corner.

"Hey! You and Char-Char seem to be getting along!" He says as he approaches me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I smile at him softly. He really is the best father figure i could ever ask for.

"Yeah, we have. Were good friends." I say. Lucifer smiles at me. He yawns, and i chuckle at him. I could see the eye bags under his eyes.

"That's great, and I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, kiddo!" He says as he walks away.

"Night d- Lucifer." I say, quickly correcting myself as i go towards my room.

-Next morning-

I awake and walk out of my room. I walk into the lobby and grab water from the fridge. I see Lucifer and Charlie chatting on the sofa. I make eye contact with Lucifer, and in unison, we smile. "Morning," He says.

"morning dad" I say as i drink the rest of my drink. I didn't even notice what i said. Lucifers eye widened, and he said something to Charlie before approaching me.

"you- why did you call me dad? do you see me as a father?" He says as he taps my shoulder. I panic as i realise what i said. We just stare at each other in silence before i finally speak.

"uh- yeah..i didn't mean to, i didn't want to make you uncomfort-" I say before i get interrupted by being pulled into a tight hug. I gasp, and my eyes widen slightly. I look at Charlie, and she gives me a thumbs up.

"It's fine! You're like a kid to me, my kid! I dont mind, " He says as i hug him back. I smile and chuckle. What a father figure i have, huh?

Charlie approaches me and joins in with the hug.

"I've always wanted a sibling! And a brother, now i have both, how exciting!" She says with a smile. I chuckle, and so does Lucifer.

"And I've always wanted a son,"

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Thank you for the recommendation! This was a good one.

[five-and-dimes]

Had a very angsty thought about Dream that I thought you in particular would enjoy, so here it is:

Maybe this would be a human au, but I think it could work in universe as well.

Dream, because of the fact that he's not great with people, tends to be rather prideful, and is well aware of his own strengths, has been accused of being arrogant his whole life. Mainly by his siblings (Desire, I'm looking at you).

At some point, Dream being desperately tired of being told bad things about him, and desperate to have people around him who love him, decides that he must be the problem and so resolves that he will change himself.

How does he go about this? Well naturally he assumes that because he's been accused of arrogance, he can't trust his own judgement of himself. So whatever he thinks about himself, he believes that the reality of who he is must be worse. Which leads to a vicious cycle of self hatred.

Hob, who had become friends with Dream at some point, and had long since fallen for his friend, somehow finds out about this thought process of Dream's and is absolutely devastated. Which of course leads to Hob doing his absolute best to convince Dream he's not the worst person alive. Dream is very stubborn though, it takes a lot of work, but eventually Hob manages to help Dream see how unfair he is to himself and just how wrong his thought process is

Anyway, but I hope you enjoy this concept I thought of, it seemed like the exact sort of angst and hurt/comfort you enjoy, so I had to share

Bro you know me so Goddamn well.

(Vibing human au just cause I’ve been in human au mode for the fic I’m working on lol)

Cause like. Here’s the thing. Pride in and of itself is not a bad thing. There’s plenty of things Dream has every right to be proud of! But he grows up with parents constantly neglecting him and calling him selfish when he wants their attention/love/support, and siblings who call him arrogant when he speaks highly of himself. His siblings try to tear him down and he fights back by overcompensating, doubling down on his pride until it does in fact tip into arrogance, but he’s just so desperate not to let them make him feel worthless (even if it doesn’t really work). And when Desire or Despair are cruel to him and he fights back the only way he knows how, HE’S the one his older siblings scold and are disappointed in. 

And time passes, and he’s not naturally good with social interactions, and then on top of that you have the trauma of his family life exacerbating the struggle. He starts having romantic relationships that start strong and then nosedive, and suddenly he’s being criticized and beaten down from all sides, no one willing to give him the benefit of the doubt or any compassion when he messes up. So he starts to figure… well, surely if EVERYONE says all these bad things about him they can’t ALL be wrong. Surely he’s the one who’s wrong.

So he enters university with this mindset that he can’t trust his own feelings unless they're negative. He’s not someone who struggles, he’s just a bad person. He’s not talented or successful, he’s just arrogant. 

And that’s who Hob meets. Dream still has a haughty demeanor- a little part of him wants people to see right away what a “bad person” he is so that he can get it over with (plus, deceiving them would just make him a worse person, right?)- but Hob is obsessed with him immediately. Privately, Hob thinks of Dream like a stray cat, hissing and scratching out of fear and distrust, but it takes some time for him to realize just how accurate that assessment is. They become closer, and he starts to notice some things, like how Dream doesn’t tell him about the galleys he gets accepted into, or the stories that gets published, or the tests he aces. When he prods Dream about it, he shrugs it off, saying it doesn’t matter, it’s nothing, he wasn’t going to burden Hob with something so insignificant.

Hob tells Dream he should be proud of himself for his accomplishments and Dream is literally speechless.

No one has ever told Dream he should be proud. His pride was what made him unlovable, right?

Oops, did he say that out loud?

It’s like pulling teeth getting Dream to explain to Hob- How he’s always been wrong before, how he’s never gotten it right, so obviously he can’t trust his own perception of himself. Maybe he was excited, or felt a little spark of joy and pride at his successes, but he knows now that he actually has no reason to be proud of anything ever because he’s just a burden and a bad person. 

Hob is going to cry.

It’s a hard battle getting Dream out of this mindset. Hob kind of just has to go all in, because it’s not like Dream talks openly about his thought process, Hob just happened to notice and drag it out of him. So even if it might seem like Dream is just chilling on the couch watching a show, odds are he’s actually deconstructing every single thing he’s said and done that day and twisting them into proof for why he’s unlovable. But it’s not like it’s a chore for Hob- all he’s really doing is giving Dream the validation and approval that he never got growing up, and showing him a bit of grace when he stumbles. To Hob it's nothing, but to Dream it's everything.

(It’s also very cute to see how red Dream gets when Hob compliments him or shows up to his gallery exhibitions or tapes his A+ essays onto the fridge.)

There’s ups and downs, and there will continue to be ups and downs for a while. But when Hob finally kisses him, Dream thinks to himself… If someone as good as Hob can love him? Then maybe- just maybe- he’s not so bad himself.

[cradle-quill]

Lost in the Rhythm, an ABDL Story by CradleQuill (Reupload)

Disclaimer: All content is fictional, consensual, and intended only for mature audiences. All characters depicted are adults aged 18+ _

You didn't know what you were getting into. You started seeing a therapist, something you really should have done long ago. You'd put it off for years, until the night terrors became impossible to bear any longer. That's when you met Dr. Vale.

You'd never seen nor heard of her practice before, yet her office was just a few miles away, tucked into the corner of a half-abandoned shopping center. When you saw the add for it online, it was if it were calling out to you directly. "Come find yourself. Recapture what used to make you, you." Words on a screen had never seemed so appealing. So you went ahead and set the appointment.

The consultation with Dr. Vale was perfectly normal. She was a kind, soft-spoken, older woman, and her office was neat and welcoming. She had a lovely couch for you to sit on, and you told her all about your night terrors and how they'd grown worse over the last few years, as you reached the latter half of your twenties.

She asked you when they started, and you recited memories of waking up in cold sweats all throughout your childhood. Her ears seemed to perk up at that, and she listened with a welcoming charm that invited you to reveal more. You told her about your parents, and your school life. Even about your first crushes and heartbreaks. She soaked them all in and at the end, she offered a warm smile and you felt just the smallest bit of prolonged pain melt away like ice beneath a freshly-lit candle flame.

The whole following week, your footsteps felt a little lighter. Your shoulders didn't bear quite as much weight. And you chalked it all up to your visit with Dr. Vale. To think you were already feeling so much better after just a consultation, you were thrilled to see how you felt after a real session. But you should have realized something was off. Things that seem too good to be true oftentimes are.

When you arrived at her office for your first true visit, you were surprised to find you'd arrived first. You sat down on the familiar couch, but the doctor was nowhere to be seen. You waited for some time, with nothing to entertain you but the incessant ticking of the clock above the door. As it ticked away, time slowed to a crawl for you. You watched the clock's hand as each second passed, feeling the full weight of each one as they came and left your world.

By the time the door finally opened, you were in a profound state of calm. Too calm to even notice the items Dr. Vale carried with her when she entered the room. You shook your head and blinked away the sleepy crust that had accrued in your eyes, and as your vision returned to you, it settled on Dr. Vale's lovely smile. The weight of your worry sank deeper into a place too far and foreign to feel.

"It's nice to see you again," she said as she sat down in her armchair. She placed what she was carrying down at her side.

Before long, you found yourself opening up to her again, this time delving even deeper into inner chambers of your mind you'd locked long ago, so far into the past you hardly even remembered they were there. She took each one and lifted it from you, easing that burden just enough to make it all seem so manageable. You were so thrilled with your decision to see her. And so proud of yourself for making the call.

That's when she spoke up. "You know, honey," she said with her usual firm yet loving tone. "You've told me so much about you in such a short amount of time. I feel like I've really gotten to know you, the person you are, and the person you want to be. And I've seen how your demeanor has changed, even just between our first meeting and now. You feel it too, don't you?"

You nodded, embarrassed and cheeks burning a bright rosy-pink hue. It was one thing to acknowledge these feelings yourself, but to have her speak them so plainly, it was as if she'd turned a mirror on you. And for the first time, you liked what you saw.

Her smile widened further. She was there with you, meeting you where you needed her to. You could feel her understanding. She saw you, the way you really needed to be seen. And her smile told you all you needed to know about her thoughts as well. She was happy for you, thrilled she could help you open yourself up, even just that little bit.

"I think I have something here that will help you even more, if you're willing to try it," she said, gesturing toward her pile of things beside her. "They're a bit unconventional, but I really think you're a perfect candidate for this kind of therapy."

You didn't even question it. You just happily agreed without even giving it a second thought. You trusted her completely. How foolish to trust someone you'd known for such a short amount of time, and yet you did, because you were naive, or maybe because you were vulnerable. She was certainly willing to take advantage of that vulnerability.

Seeing your eagerness, Dr. Vale reached down and pulled out a silver pocket watch. It was beautiful, and it shone in the office's faint lights. On its face, there was an engraving of a crescent moon featured prominently amongst a star-lit sky. She held the pocket watch out in front of you and scooched her chair forward, drawing closer to you.

She let the pocket watch fall down and it swung back and forth like a pendulum. Your eyes followed it each way it went, back and forth, back and forth. Before you even knew it, your eyes were transfixed, and you couldn't focus your attention anywhere else. With each swing of the pendulum, the sound of the ticking clock echoed throughout your ear like a thunderous chorus singing a soothing hymn.

"You've been such a good girl for me, love," she said. Her words were as the wind, beautiful and forever present without needing to be seen. They were felt instead. "You're doing so well, but I know you can do even better. You can be a good little girl for me. You can escape all those adult worries that frighten you so much. If you give in, if you fall and let me catch you, I'll take care of those things for you."

"I'll hold you and love you," she continued. "And I'll cherish you always. Close your eyes. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Feel yourself giving in, feel the weight of your toes as they touch the tips of your shoes. Feel them grow heavier, and feel that weight run along your feet to your ankles, and then to your legs. Feel it all around your pelvis and torso, as the sense of warmth and completeness travels to the very top of your head and flows down your scalp like raindrops. You want to be my good girl. You want to give in. You came here knowing, deep down, that you weren't cut out for adult life. You want to let it all go. Be a good girl for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl for Mommy."

Something tugged within you. You wanted to resist. You knew she was talking nonsense, and yet the severity of what she was asking wasn't lost on you. You felt it, your identity, your adult self, slipping away into the farthest reaches of your mind. There was a moment, a single, perfect moment where you had to make a choice. To choose to fight back, to grab hold of that version of you and refuse to let go. Or to give in. To trust her, to let her guide you. We both know which one you picked.

Who you were, everything that made you the adult you'd become, it flowed away into the sea of your mind. You stopped holding onto it. You let go, just as you let go of everything else you'd been holding onto. You let the warmth flood into your pants and spread beneath your bottom, soaking the seat. You sat there in a puddle of your own making, and as the final drops escaped your bladder, you knew your transformation was complete. The ecstasy of it all gave way to reality, to a sharp pang of anxiety, but it was too late.

You could no longer speak. Each time you tried, you heard only babbles escape your lips. And soon those babbles became sobs. "There, there," your new Mommy said. "It's alright love, babies like you aren't expected to keep their big girl pants dry. Don't you worry, Mommy has just the thing."

She lifted you effortlessly, as if your body weighed next to nothing. She was much stronger than she looked, but whatever she did to you also made you entirely limp. You put up no fight whatsoever, no matter how much you tried. She unrolled a changing mat and laid you atop it before removing your clothes. You felt so vulnerable, having her see you in such a state, and yet there was something else too, something Mommy refused to allow to go unnoticed.

"My my," she said. "It looks like my little girl is wet in more than just one way. Such a silly, naughty baby. Mama will have to play with you a bit so you can release some of that pent-up energy."

She lifted your butt and placed a thick diaper beneath you. She rubbed baby lotion all around your thighs, and when she made her way to the middle, she ran two fingers up along the wetness, stirring something up within you and causing you to shiver. Suddenly, the ecstasy had returned. She sunk her fingers inside, sending you writhing along to the rhythm she played for you. Each note transcended the moment itself, slipping into the deepest parts of your consciousness as she built to the inevitable crescendo, the one you'd been yearning for. She gave you what you wanted, what you so desperately craved. And for the next few minutes, your moans sang in harmony with the rhythm of her hands as she played you like an instrument. Once you were both finished, she sprinkled baby powder on you and taped your diaper up into place, then gave you a firm pat on the bottom.

"There. All finished, baby girl." Next, she helped you into a onesie, one perfectly tailored to fit you. She'd been planning this from the moment you'd met, and there was nothing you could do about it now. You were foolish enough to trust her, and pathetic enough to give in. This was it. This was your life now. You'd made your choice.

From that day on, Mommy took care of you. She took you away from that office, and you never returned home. She blindfolded you while she drove you to her house, your new house. So even if you did someday regain your ability to speak and move your limbs like a full-fledged adult, you'd never know where you were. But she made sure things would never get to that point in the first place, as each morning, when you woke up in your already soggy diapers, she'd pull out the pendulum and swing it before you. Your eyes would follow it and all your big girl thoughts would fade away into the rhythm of that ticking clock. And you'd smile and coo like a good little girl. And each morning, your little hypnosis sessions always ended the same way. With you giving a few firm pushes before filling your diaper and giggling like the good little girl you'd always be from then on. _

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[henrioo]

✦ ── FALLING IN LOVE: SANJI

Sanji x Gn! Reader

Synopsis: Where slowly Sanji realizes that his feelings for you have changed

Warnings: Pure cuteness, nothing really alarming, just a passionate and jealous Sanji

Word Count: 1,4k

Notes: This should have been an ask, but when I finished it I realized it was very different from what I had been asked and decided to do another one. But so you don't miss it, here it is being posted, I hope you like it. Sorry for the English

Notes edit: Pronouns have been updated to neuter thanks to @waitingmydemons , thanks sweetie

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

It's really not a secret that Sanji is a bit emotional and has a tendency to fall in love with pretty people, so when you introduced yourself as a new crew member with that bright yet nervous smile, no one would really be surprised if he had hearts eyes and a wide mouth.

Of course, initially he wouldn't think he was really in love, after all he doesn't consider himself a one-man man. That's why he tries to act as normal as he can around you, still having the aura of a lover and servant who would do anything for you, but also trying to convey credibility that he wasn't really in love.

Of course, he can't run away from it for long, but everything starts much slower than it seems, see:

First it starts with your kindness, you were more than excited to meet all of the crew and become friends with them, so you would walk up and down asking if you could be of assistance or just spend some time chatting to find out more about the people you now live with.

First Sanji didn't want to ask you for help, he didn't want to burden you with cooking and he also wanted to try to impress you by showing how he can handle the entire kitchen by himself. But you insisted that you could at least be of some use, so he sighed deeply and asked you to cut up some vegetables and occasionally stir certain pots or add ingredients. Nothing that could really be difficult if you were only pretending to want to help.

You might not be the best in socializing, but you were definitely doing your best to make the conversation flow naturally for both of you. So Sanji also made an effort so that you could talk calmly, he would ask a little more about your village and journey, always being careful not to press where he shouldn't, sometimes he would ask about your hobbies and food tastes, nothing really deep but that still counted.

You weren't far behind, you loved to talk and talking to Sanji was so easy! You asked about the restaurant, about Zeff, about his fighting style and his passion for cooking, even if you couldn't have known that there was a much deeper past there, you were pleased with what you discovered the first few times you started talking.

As the weeks passed and you were intimate enough with everyone, Sanji initially thought you'd drift away a bit, focused on doing your own thing and settling in on the ship. But what would be his surprise when you showed up in the kitchen not long after asking if he could stay there and keep you company while you studied some things. He didn't know what that feeling was, but his legs went weak, his heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped, and heat surged through his body. He smiled and stammered out a statement as he tried to get back in control.

And you came back the next day, and also the next, you walked around the islands together, on the rounds... It was strange, at least for Sanji. He was close to all the members, that's clear, but he didn't feel that close to any of them. Every time you got close to him, his heart fluttered and he started stuttering, not knowing exactly how or what to say. He just needed to talk to you, whatever the subject.

He couldn't be falling in love with you, could he? Of course he thought you were attractive, your hair was magnificent, your eyes were sparkling and your smile was amazing. He also really liked your personality, your love for the crew and their tastes, your focus and determination, how you never give up on what you believed to be right. Of course, he also felt strange next to you, with his legs shaking, his stomach nervous, his hands sweating and the lack of words. But that was all just because you were a new person compared to the others, that would pass with time, wouldn't it?

Definitely not. But he only saw it in the first jealousy crisis he had, you should spend the day on the island together since you wanted to cook something and needed the help of someone experienced in that. But just in the nick of time Usopp needed your help with art supplies and you ended up leaving your object behind, prioritizing helping your friend before that. Of course Sanji didn't mind, it was just one day, you would have many more. So what was the problem?

He didn't know it, but as he walked around town looking for supplies he couldn't stop thinking about you, how much more fun it would be to run around the market stalls listening to your beautiful voice. How you could stop by some cafe and eat together while chatting, even how nice it would be to cook with you afterwards, teaching you what he loved so much. He muttered irritably, taking another cigarette, perhaps the fifth in an hour, as he stopped in a square to collect his thoughts.

That's when he saw you. You weren't together with Usopp, but in front of some stalls, buying jewelry and small weapons, he immediately smiled and thought about approaching. Perhaps now you were free and could spend the rest of the day together, but the events that followed had his stomach twisting as he bit down on the cigarette until he tasted it on his tongue. A man approached you with a huge bouquet of flowers, he appeared to be a civilian and by his clothes perhaps he worked as a florist or gardener. The man smiled and offered you a beautiful bouquet of roses, you smiled with slightly flushed cheeks and accepted, the man would not miss the chance to pass his hand to your shoulder as he approached.

Sanji expected to see discomfort on your face, maybe despair, anything he could use as an excuse to go over there and kick that man until his face was unrecognizable. But you didn't. Instead you looked like you were having fun, laughing and getting red in the cheeks at everything the other said, Sanji felt his stomach sinking and hurting, what was that? He grabbed his bags and walked back to the ship, not in the mood for shopping anymore that day.

Robin was in the kitchen as she had stayed to watch the ship, she greeted him quickly without taking her eyes off the book she was reading. He responded with as much cheer as he had, none, and then proceeded to unpack everything for storage, although he really hadn't bought much for being back early. He could feel Robin's gaze on her back, perhaps it was obvious how awkward he was, but the man didn't wish to trouble the beautiful lady with feelings he didn't even understand.

"How was your day on the island with (y/n)?" She asked quietly, but Sanji felt his entire body shiver and go rigid.

"Ahn… They couldn’t go, busy with Usopp I guess" he tried to dodge the subject and replied in the most ordinary tone, although there was a tremor in his voice.

"Oh, I see" he thanked her for the next few minutes of silence, maybe she would just forget about it and he could pretend that nothing happened "is that why you are so upset?" He nearly dropped the plate he was washing.

"I'm not upset" he said that to who? For Robin? For himself? Who was he trying to fool?

"Hm…" she hummed "Whatever you say" a good quality of the woman is that she wouldn't insist on these matters, she knew when to withdraw if necessary "But you can talk to me if you want" Sanji smiled appreciatively for having such a generous friend.

"I just…" he shouldn't have said it, he didn't even know what he was feeling! "I… I saw them with someone else besides Usopp… They looked happy" he mumbled not really knowing what the problem was, what exactly was he angry about?

"Oh… I see" he could hear the woman's smile.

"Understood what?" He asked, nervous and curious.

"Hm? Didn't you notice, cook-san?" She had a lively, light tone.

"No?" he asked, confused.

"You are jealous." She finished and it didn't take long to get up, ready to leave. Sanji is immobilized, completely paralyzed and not knowing what to say, let alone what to do. Robin must have noticed his face in shock and laughed at the door, then spoke calmly "Don't worry, it's normal to be jealous when we're in love…"

Then she left, leaving the man alone, and for the first time since you joined the crew, Sanji realized something: he was in love with you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Notes: Well that was it! It was the first thing I wrote after my short break so I don't know if it was really good, but I liked it even though it was short. The next stories will be the ask

Also I'm planning to start a series of imagines so that's why orders are closed, hope you understand!

[sixpie]

+ CUP PROTECTION SQUAD ; ft. eren , armin , jean , & connie .

+ synopsis ; how do the aot boys protect ya cup at the club?

+ cw ; mentions of blood & violence .

you were knee deep into your much-deserved friday night out. alongside you gang of closest friends, you partied hard and drank harder. refilling your solo cup for the umpteenth time in the last hour, you groaned at that familiar feeling tugging at your bladder: you had to pee. peeling away from your girls on the crowded dance floor, you squeeze through sweaty bodies until you run into (eren/armin/jean/connie). with a breath of relief, you push your cup into his hard chest, voice laced with desperation as you beg, “i gotta piss so bad! could you keep an eye on my cup for me?”

# EREN JAEGER .

“whatever,” eren yells over the music, watching as you disappear back into the crowd.

acts all nonchalant, but in reality, he takes this little mundane task almost too serious.

eren’ll just stand in that exact spot, arms crossed, cup in hand, wearing the meanest expression. he knows he’s intimidating, and uses it as an advantage to ward off any creeps.

let’s say a situation does arise where someone comes up to him, trying to tamper with your drink. oh boy, eren’s irrational ass would toss the cup aside, uncaring if it spills, and dragging the fucker outside in the alley to scrap.

don’t worry, he’d buy you another vodka spritz or ‘whatever girly shit you drink.’

overall cup-holding rating: D-

you can’t find eren when you return from the bathroom. chocking it up to him being a flaky prick, you shrug his absence off and meet back up with mikasa and sasha on the dance floor.

it isn’t until an hour later that you feel a tap on your shoulder. you smile, assuming it’s annie or hitch, but that smile plummets the moment your eyes land on eren. he’s sporting a busted lip, and there’s a gash over his thick eyebrow that’s gushing a bloody river down the side of his sharp face. you open your mouth to say something, anything, but you were cut off by eren shoving a cup into your personal space.

“i spilt your drink,” eren explains, as if he’s not all bruised and bloody. “hope you like vodka.”

# ARMIN ARLERT .

“oh my goodness, of course i can,” armin says sweetly, flashing a gentle smile at you. “i’ll be waiting right here for you, ‘kay?”

is happy to help you however he can, even if it’s doing something as simple as watching over your drink.

armin will hold a hand over the rim of your solo cup, mindlessly swaying to the beat of whatever song is playing in the club as he patiently waits for your arrival.

if somebody does happen to approach him, asking to mess with your drink, armin won’t hesitate to drop his angel persona and get a little snippy.

“do you know how creepy you look asking to see another person’s drink like that? you’ve got about ten seconds to get lost before i call my buddies and have them handle you.”

armin would teach the perv a lesson himself, but he’d rather not leave the spot he told you to meet him at. sicking eren, jean, and connie on the gross bastard was the next best option.

the threat always works like a charm, and armin is able to protect your cup with spilling a drop.

overall cup-holding rating: A+

“oh, ‘min,” you sighed. the man had been glued in the same position you’d left him in, accompanied by a soft smile. “thank you so, so much. sorry to be such a burden.”

“nonsense,” armin shrugged off your worries, all the while trying to shake off the tiny blush that had seeped through his cheeks at your clumsiness. “you could never be a burden, not in a million years. i’m glad you came to me, y/n.”

he passed your beverage back to you, and all you could do was blink up at him, stunned by his unadulterated kindness. though, that was armin for you: always the selfless type, his generosity shouldn’t be surprise. “really?”

“really,” the blonde affirmed, scratching the back of his neck as he peered wearily out into the sea of strangers, mingling and dancing. “who knows what kind of creeps are here tonight. it’s just… i’m happy that you trust me to keep you safe. that’s all.”

# JEAN KIRSTEIN .

“me?” jean asks, baffled, before sputtering out a few more words, “i mean, sure. yeah, no-no problem at all, y/n.”

HE’S SO DRAMATIC, a literal nervous wreck for no reason. poor baby is just a 6’4 ball of raging anxiety 24/7 ):

is sweating bullets in the club, tuning out all other noises or people or anything that could possibly serve as a distraction.

jean’s clutching the plastic cup to his chest, like a mother holding her newborn. he places the rim beneath his jaw, using it as a makeshift cover.

it’s unlikely that anyone approaches jean in pursuit of your drink—his overwhelming height does wonders scaring off any potential creeps—but on the off chance someone does come up to jean, asking to take a peek at your cup, he’ll pull the good ole’ ‘girlfriend’ card out real quick.

“why do you wanna see my girlfriend’s drink?”

that mixed with a mean mug from jean is the perfect combination to get any dude to fuck off immediately.

overall cup-holding rating: B-

“gah, sorry i took so long,” you sweatdropped, hanging your head as you stood before jean. “the line for the bathroom was ridiculous.”

“don’t worry, ‘m always happy to help you,” jean smiled, quickly wiping away some of the sweat that had beaded along his brow with the back of his wrist. “your cup, madam.”

he presented the plastic cup to you rather formally, an action that had your eyes crinkling with a goofy laugh. “thank you, sir jean,” you played along, dropping a courtesy before accepting your drink.

jean flushed, maybe because of your laugh? or maybe because you matched his dorky energy so well? or maybe it’s just because you’re you. “anytime.”

# CONNIE SPRINGER .

“you know i gotchu mama,” connie smiled easily, grabbing the cup and swirling it around. “imma make this cup my biatch.”

connie is a certified idiot, but we all knew this.

he’d do so good for the first few minutes, waiting for you to return with your cup secured in both his large hands.

but one minute turns into five, which turns into ten, and the pink liquid dancing in your cup starts to look fucking delicious.

‘one sip wouldn’t hurt, right?’

but one sip turns into five, which turns into ten, and suddenly the delicious, pink liquid is now almost fully gone. it’s not his fault, dammit! he blames you for having the best taste in drinks.

nobody would even approach connie, no, they would all think it was his drink with the way he downed half the fucking cup.

overall cup-holding rating: F-

“you’re a life saver con’,” you cheer upon finally returning back to your friend. he looks slightly more tipsy than when you’d left, his eyelids low and his tongue pressed cheekily against his canines.

“what would you do without me?” connie asks, passing you back your cup.

“i don’t kn—” you paused, feeling the weight of the solo cup in your hands. with a suspicious glare, you queried, “connie, why is my cup so light?”

he just smiled, licking his lips before shrugging like the bastard he is.

[daenysx]

as a person who studies out of town, this was a little triggering for me to write lol. i hope you like it, i tried to do my best with reflecting all the emotions they feel. <3

requests are open!!

my masterlist

missing his sweet baby

your voice sounds sad and modern!aemond is quick to leave everything behind just to make you smile.nsfw.

it's too hard to miss someone. the feeling crawls in your heart like a heavy burden, you don't know how to carry it. it's because of him.

"i miss you. please, call me."

you leave a message to him with teary eyes.

aemond targaryen is the man of your dreams. he came into your life and shattered your heart for any other person who tries to have it. your heart belongs to him, you had accepted this a long time ago.

you are far away. this is only for six months, you are studying for your dreams. at first it was harder to be away from him, to get used to a new place and a new school. you tried to stay strong against the desire to go back and see him. aemond always supports you, keeps reminding you that this is only for six months and then it will be over. still, the amount of time you spend away from him burns you inside.

three months passed and you got used to it a little. focusing on your studies helped a lot, talking to aemond at least three times a day helped as well. he is working at his family's company and he is quite busy. he does anything to be successful and worthy, you know it must be hard for him. you wish to be with him when he has difficult time with all those bad feelings but there are still three months for you to go back.

you can't stop crying today. all you want to do is to crawl into aemond's arms and bury your face to his neck. he is not here, he is busy to call you back. you feel your heart clench painfully. today, you don't really feel like doing anything, there is no class or assignment to focus on. you are free and sad, sitting in your bed.

the city you now live in is beautiful. your life is the life you always want, you work for your dream career and you have plenty of new friends. the only thing missing is him.

your phone rings, his name is on the screen. you brush your tears away, try to clear your throat for a better voice and slide your finger on the screen.

"hey."

"my love? sorry, there was a meeting, i couldn't answer the phone."

"that's okay. how are you?" you ask, try to keep your voice steady.

"i'm fine, baby. how about you, hmm? don't you have any class today?" aemond asks.

"no, i'm free today. just staying in bed, doing nothing."

"hmm, that's good. you needed to rest."

his voice sounds like he still has a lot of things to do and talks to you at the same time when he works.

"we can talk later if you want. you are still at work, i don't want to take your time." you wonder if you sound sad because you can't control your voice this time.

you hear him chuckle on the other side. "please take my time. talking to you is the most important part of my day, okay? now, tell me how was your study group yesterday, anything new?"

you start telling him about the study group but then you hear another voice on the phone. "mr.targaryen, there is an emergency-"

aemond scoffs. "i'm sorry, sweetheart. i'll call you back."

"that's fine, i love you." you can't help your voice shaking this time. he says he loves you and hangs up.

you burst into tears once more. the crying doesn't stop, you quit trying. you stay in bed for hours, sleeping and crying. the emotions overwhelm you and you just give in. there is no point anyway. you close your eyes after a while and have a restless sleep.

you wake up a few hours later, the room is dark now. you feel extremely tired and your head is empty. you are hungry but you don't want to eat anything, instead you decide to have some coffee.

you drag yourself to bathroom first. you wash your face with cold water, hoping for some relief. then you go to kitchen and make a cup of coffee. you clean the little mess you made in kitchen and hear the doorbell ring as you reach for your cup.

you frown slightly, and wondering who that might be. you reach for the doorknob and open the door.

aemond is standing right there.

your mouth falls open. your sleepy brain can't process the fact that he is here. he gives you a few seconds, a happy expression on his face.

he opens his arms for you and you jump right into them. you wrap your arms around him like a koala and bury your face to his neck. his arms instantly reaches to your waist, holding you close. you feel his lips on your hair and you start crying again.

"shh, don't cry baby. i'm right here. oh, my sweet baby."

he cups your cheeks and presses a slow kiss on your lips. you hold his hand and lead him to your room, closing the door. he puts his bag on the floor and looks at your room.

"looks like someone here had a little crisis, hmm? why didn't you tell me you feel bad?"

you look at his face with shy eyes. "i didn't want to upset you, you are already too busy. i don't want you to worry over me."

he shakes his head. "i can't believe you think like this. nothing i do in that company worths more than you, okay? you should tell me about your feelings so that i can be with you, my love."

you kiss him with tears. you miss him too much, it still doesn't feel real. for three months, both of you never had the right time to fly and see each other, always waiting for the end of six months for your sweet union. the moment he heard your shaky voice and worried tone, he couldn't stay there. that was too much to deal with.

he keeps kissing you until he is longing for air. you lead him to your bed, tearing off his clothes desperately. "calm down, baby. i'm here, i'm right here. let me take care of you, please."

he takes off the rest of his clothes and helps you out of the shirt you wear. his shirt. you take off your knee socks as well and stay only in your panties.

he looks at you for a moment. "you have no idea how much i missed you. you have no idea what you do to me. i would leave everything and go to the end of the world with you just to put a smile on your pretty face."

you open your arms for him and he leans into you. he brushes kisses on your soft breasts and the spot between them. your neck crave his attention and he is quick to give it to you. he sucks and bruises, then softens his pressures with kisses. you become a whimpering mess under him quickly.

"it looks like you missed me, too. is that right, sweetheart?"

you nod. "yes, yes, i missed you so much. so much, aemond."

he chuckles. "it's fine. i'm here now and i will take care of you."

he kisses your lips and you kiss him back. 3 months of missing and longing for each other finally shows itself physically. your fingers travel in his hair, his beautiful hair. his hands are on your waist slowly reaches to your panties.

"let's take this off, hmm?" he smiles as you move your hips. "there you go."

he is painfully hard but he doesn't care. he has to take care of you first.

"aemond, i need you. now, please."

he nods. "would you like me to use my fingers, my love?"

you shake your head, "i can't take it, i just need you inside me. please, please."

he adjusts himself a little. "how were you taking care of yourself when i wasn't here, hmm?"

you show him your hand, playfully. "my fingers."

he kisses your hand. "and were they enough?"

you shake your head. "no, never enough. not like you."

"so, my sweet baby deserves a good orgasm, hmm? i think we can do that."

he slowly pushes himself to your entrance. you are already soaked for him, your muscles painfully throb around his length. he is inside you, holding the flesh of your thighs. he waits a little for you to get used to him. three months of agony and now he has you. he kisses your lips and starts moving when you nod approvingly.

he quickly finds a strong pace. his long fingers stroke your swollen clit. he loves hearing your moans, your closed eyes and messy hair. fuck, he missed the image too much, he is not gonna last.

"aemond, hmm, so close- so clos-"

he moves a little faster. "me too, baby. don't hold back, i need you to come with me."

your first round ends with his skilled fingers applying the right amount of pleasure on your clit and your walls clenching around him. he comes inside you with a deep moan and you arch your back as you find relief.

he stays inside of you. you look mesmerising like this under him, all those emotions you feel make themselves visible on your face. he kisses your lips and moves your hair from your face.

"are you alright?" he asks.

"mm-hmm. can we do that again?"

he chuckles. "don't worry babygirl. we are not done yet."

after your breathing turns steady, he brings his fingers on your cunt. the mix of your liquids keeps you wet. he quickly puts one finger in, his thumb on your clit. he pushes his second finger in as you try to move your hips.

his fingertips touch your g-spot suddenly and you scream his name. your fingers are not enough for you to reach there and when his fingers make a great job at finding and rubbing it, you feel like you'll cry.

"oh, my sweet baby. my beautiful baby, how much i've missed you."

he keeps moving his fingers and rubbing your clit. his free hand goes up to touch your hardened nipple. he squeezes the bud and you flinch. he touches the other one then, pressing and squeezing.

"i'm close, aemon-" you can't complete the sentence because he fastens his fingers in a way that makes you speechless. he is too strong, it's almost too much. you moan his name once more when you come, his fingers are soaked from your wetness. he waits for you to find your balance until he takes his fingers off.

he leaves the bed to get a clean towel from the bathroom. he helps you sit on the bed, your back against your pillows. he cleans the mess he made and brings you a cool glass of water.

"come on, drink it baby. i tire you too much, hmm? come on, finish the glass."

you drink all your water and look up to him. "i'm not tired. i feel perfect. i'm just- so happy that you're here."

"when i heard your voice and your words trying to hide your sadness from me, i left everything. i couldn't take it anymore, i had to see my girl."

you smile. "but you were too busy. what about the work?"

"i don't give a shit about the work now. they'll be fine without me."

"when will you go back?" you ask sadly. you need to know how much time you have with him.

"tomorrow night, baby."

you nod. "that's okay. it means we have time, right?"

"yes, and i will not leave until you have a smile on your face. a lasting smile, sweetheart. you don't know how much it hurts to be far away from you and knowing that you're sad."

you kiss him. "today was different. i've never been like this before."

he nods. "i know but you can't blame a guy for worrying over his sweet baby, hmm?"

you shake your head. "no, i guess i can't."

you pull him closer and he understands what you want to do. he leans his back to the headboard and makes room for you on his lap.

you adjust yourself comfortably on his lap and stroke his cock until it's hard for you. he watches the effect you have on him, he loves being undone because of you. you take him inside you and try to get used to the different angle. he holds your waist and guides you.

you start riding him, your fingers brush his chest and his neck. you move your hips in a certain rhytm. he tries to lift his hips and hits that sweet spot inside you. you moan, clenching around him. he encourages you to keep moving. you ride him through your third orgasm that night. that's not an unusual thing with aemond, you always manage to fuck each other until you are both satisfied. you come apart once more, this time it takes longer and your thighs are a little sore.

you lift your hips and take his weeping cock in your hand. you stroke him until he closes his eye, curves his mouth into a soft smile and comes on your fingers. you don't wait for your next move, take your fingers into your mouth and licking everything.

all he can do is to stay right there and watch you. he doesn't know how will he manage to leave tomorrow night when you look so perfect and when he is so in love.

after you are done, you put your head on his chest and pull the covers on both of you. he lays down and you bury your face to his neck, inhaling his scent. "i've dreamt about you holding me like this, all day long. almost afraid that i lost my mind."

"you are in the right place for your future, sweetheart. only three months more and you'll be back, remember? we can do that. we should do that."

you nod, wrap your arms closer. "i love you."

"i love you." he says it the second time for today but this time not on the other side of the phone, instead in the bed with you, holding you close.

"i think there is some wine in the kitchen. or we can drink coffee. oh god, i forgot to ask, are you hungry? i should've asked before i jump into your arms, i'm sorry." you say the last part teasingly.

"i'm not hungry. and you see, a man in the right mind always prefers you jumping into his arms before food."

"come on, that's too romantic even for you. let's stay in bed for a while, then we'll think of something."

he nods, kisses you hairline. you try not to think about the time he has to leave. you missed him too much and you deserve some good time with him instead of worrying and being sad.

aemond targaryen is the kind of man who would leave things behind just to see you smile. he takes care of your heart, supports you, and stays with you. your love for him feels overwhelming sometimes, how much more can you fall in love with him?

you press a kiss on his chest, ask him about his day. both of you know that you won't be sleeping tonight, it will be a night full of holding, kissing, talking, and touching each other. and it will be perfect.