#regret is for the weak willed

[lairn]

Writing Patterns (Tag Game)

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks for the tag, @tragediegh! I only have 7 works, but thought this would still be fun to check out. It seems I either write really short first sentences or they're about winter, haha.

I don't know who to tag. @whatevsbla @aerialsquid or anyone else who would enjoy it!

Violence raged aboard the Paragon.

It was a warm spring morning.

My brother is gone.

Reader, call me Fitz.

Winter was only just fading into spring and the morning was so cold, Peladine was sure it would kill her.

“He’s late, and I’m cold. I wish we could wait inside.” 

Withywoods could be a difficult and lonely place for a tiny, unusual child, and in my seventh year I found Winterfest was no exception.

[acid-ixx]

no pain, no gain, right?

"is this all a game, or are they all secretly masochists?!"

nah, imaging being kidnapped by the batfam, neglected or not, romantic or platonic, and being expected to treat your abduction as merely normal, to love them like you've known them for your entire life rather than strangers who randomly decided that you're the object of affection they'd focus on their attention on one day—

do they honestly think you'd fall for their honeyed words? of course not! you're fucking trapped with both men and women alike with physical capabilities enough to trap you in a headlock or in a bear hug. they could kill you with a damn finger jabbed into your neck. is that not a valid enough reason for you to try and constantly fight them?

if you're a person bound on the feistier side, the first course of action you'd commit on, say, dick who's known to be the most physically affectionate, the neediest of them all - who's constantly kissing you, playing with your hair and laying his head on your chest - would be your nails digging deep into his skin and dragging it along his back, or trying to throw a punch into tim's face when you feel he's been staring into you rather than at you far too deeply for your liking, watching the blood drip down his nose like a faucet right after, as long as it means his eyes would leave your body for just a damn second.

whatever they're doing, even if they're always assuring you that they're doing this out of love, out of protection, out of their deep-seated paranoia that out there, you're not safe, you won't survive; their actions are all done for you — yet they'll always be met with you threatening to bite or chew their faces off. they're not your damn family, or lovers, or whatever fantasies they think they could reenact with you, and they know damn well that you won't be giving up soon, not at all—!

yet you don't know that behind your fiery side are those willing to let the fire burn much longer, those who throw more logs and gasoline into the ever-burning pit of rage and spite that crackles at your heart.

jason trying to trap you into his muscly arms only warrants your fight-or-flight instincts, akin to a gothamite walking past the crime alley, kicking and scratching at the man just wishing for a day of comfort as he sighs and nuzzles his head into the crown of your hair, breathing deeply to take in your scent, as if you're not currently pulling his hair out. he'll let you bite on his hard neck, or kick at the fat of thighs or even his crotch with no reaction other than tightening his already caged grip on your body.

a body much frailer compared to everybody else's. a mere gazelle to a lion ready to be chased anytime soon.

bruce placing a hand behind your back will only result in you digging deeply into his forearms, wide eyes and heaving breaths that reflects not only utter fear but a thinly-veiled threat of another session of attempting to uppercut him, like you're some wild prey ready to make a run if he dares push the boundaries you settled for. yet all he does is try his best to warmly smile at you without any weariness, not even any vigilance of your future actions, and most especially not fear.

how long are you going to fight them? why are even you doing this? to soften the blow? to make them wish they regret even taking you away from the first place? or do you wish for them to feel a semblance of fear you felt whenever their toned arms surprised you from when they appeared before a shadow? do they not know just how deeply terrified you are of them, that you're doing all this because you're afraid of their strength?

except, what you expected never came. you would've been fine with them punishing you, slowly losing their inhibitions, snarling at you every damn time you snap, becoming tired of your antics and threatening to throw you out, even mocking you for your weakness; anything...!

but not whatever this is.

not the stupidly gentle smiles, or the droopy eyes that look as if they've fallen in love even more at just how much droplets of blood you were able to procure with another set of scratches against jason's forearms. not the astounded whistles at another bruise you managed to punch into steph's shoulders after a momentary lapse of shock from another one of her back hugs— as of this were some all sick form of therapy. you know they're taking your daily fights seriously, you know it because they always take note of it by staring at each other every time you manage to injure them! but fuck, why are they just letting you do as you will?

since when have your nails been longer, sharper even?

why is jason just... staring at you, his gaze proud and mighty, not out of his attempts at mocking you but looking genuinely so gratified. there's rivulets of crimson dripping down his neck all the way to the clavicle until it reaches his upper pecs, multiple indents of scars already faded, now overlayed with fresher, even deeper ones; displayed like a museum artifact by his loose tee. his fingers, shaky and equally scarred, moved to run over the inflicted injuries, touching and pressing deep, as it just as quickly finds its way to his mouth, lapping at the blood, his eyes never leaving your equally shivering form; dread and disgust curling into your very being.

he takes deep breaths after lapping his fingers clean, his fists are curled together like yours; except your nails are stained with blood, jason's, a stench that curdles deep into your nostrils. and for a second you feel something scarier than fear, an immeasurable pit of doom that looms over your back. for a second, you thought this would be the last time you'll ever see the light again. just as quickly as you scratched him, you try to retort with an excuse.

"jason, i'm- i'm so sorry i didn't mean to—!"

"we get it now, angel...

this is your way of coping, right? it's all good, do as much damage as you could 's long as you get it all out of your system, 'kay?

and thanks, by the way. this one's even better than the one you gave me just earlier."

what does he mean? what's even better...? you just- you just gave it your all trying to engrave your sharp nails into already scarred skin; why is he talking to you as if he's congratulating you rather than scolding you?

no, no, no... he shouldn't be all like this... why is everybody staying silent all throughout? why do your ears wring, every sound mapped around the house turned into one singular sound? this shouldn't be happening, no! he should be mad, should be punching you, bruce should've broken you both up the moment he noticed your hands make a way for jason's neck— yet since when did anybody try to interrupt?! the only damn time, god... the only time they ever do is when you try to inflict injuries on yourself, but never on others... just why?

there's sudden clapping that distracts you from your thoughts, from dick's or duke, you don't know? one of them is saying something and you can't comprehend it other than one-liners and muffled, incomprehensible words.

"—'m jealous of you," that's duke's voice! what else is he saying? why is he envious? of what exactly? the fear doesn't settle down unlike all the other times, there's tears that began brimming on your eyes and you still stand in the middle of the living room, the chandelier's light basking you in its ethereal glow, yet you feel the opposite. you're no angel as what's jason called you, and the people surrounding you are more like demons than anything else; witnessing your fall from grace, taking you away from your home whilst having the audacity applauding your presence as if you've fucking graced them.

and then steph coos, your head snaps to the direction of her grating "awe's!". you're convinced she's looking at jason like he's been vindicated for some crime, eyes you never knew could hold so much anger and spite. you don't know why she does, you don't understand the hidden implications of her next words, you can only watch from a distance.

"that should've been me, y'know! that's so unfair of you!" her seething voice and hardened glare at the man subsided into your thoughts; who wishes to be hurt? who even wants to be the victim of your feisty glares and venomous insults? you know they don't like it when you stare at them with burning hatred— but why do they enjoy it when you physically scar them instead? when you punch at their noses and watch as the blood stains their clothes evidently?

and yet it only registered within your mind just now: how they never seem to patch up any of the marks you imprint on their body. it's only now that you realize that they always bare it right in front of everybody, some even wearing looser clothes that give others a peek of their skin in the more intimate places you've marked. there's bandages from when they go home after every patrol, there's casts that they wear after suffering through broken bones and dislocated limbs from the criminals they fight every night— but never with you, not even a gauze from when you've cut all too keenly into damian's cheeks, a deep gash that he's sported proudly throughout the following months with everyone else seething, even bruce seems envious of his own son.

"well, it's not my fault you didn't try hard enough, blondie. right, angel? guess they love me even more than you," his sultry words pierced through your mind, and for just a second, he was already at your side, hands weighing on your shoulder whilst his head makes its way to the crown of your head, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on your forehead. he releases an airy laugh at the complaints that come after. and for a second, your claws were ready to retaliate from mere instinct, at how he dares treat the entire situation like a bragging right; but unlike last time, you try to hold back, shoulders sagging as you try to blink out the tears running down your eyes; all right after discovering their... sick fetishes.

fetishes you didn't know run deeper than just that. you don't even know of the competition they hold every night right after they put you to sleep, counting each and every scar, every pull of the hair, every bloodied nose, bruised eyes, scratched skin, cuts inflicted from knives and other sharp objects laying around, your very own murder attempts at your abductors; all tallied and inputted into barbara's coded system that tracks and points each and every injury. you don't know just how much they cherish these marks you left in their body, like medals dangling off their parts that showcase their dedication, their patience never dwindling at achieving your trust— bruce once said it was an unhealthy habit of yours, but dick retaliates, saying it's the only way they could get closer to you.

it's the only time that you willingly touch them, even if it's with animosity, with passion and hope that someday you'd maim them just hard enough to escape.

"don't even think tonight's over yet, todd. you all simply haven't seen what they've done to me just yet," now it's damian who butts in, with emerald eyes gleaming with emotions you're still unable to detangle. yet now there's hints of rage, a face that says he's ready to compete with what jason has to offer now, hands caressing the cloth he wears that hides an injury enough to compete with the pain you've inflicted upon jason, an injury you're far too familiar with.

he's the youngest, and sometimes, you feel the most fear trying to discern why he's too possessive of your time, of your space and your presence, all whilst sporting a glare that never seems to lighten. but nothing ever changed the fact that he's the one who pushes all your buttons the most, he's the one with the cruelest words and sickening intentions, enough for you to treat him the foulest you ever could; with murder the only product in your mind every time he tries to even come closer to you.

and his words right now made you realize just how deeply you fucked up, and just how equally as fucked up your abductors truly are...

after all, you did just bite him earlier, in the space between his neck and shoulders from when he attempted to lick at your neck, making sure your teeth grates at his skin and nearly rips at flesh; to the point where the taste of blood that filled your mouth still lingers even until now.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: art by yuto sano. written in 30 minutes sheesh. you know what's scarier than your kidnappers retaliating against you whenever you try to attack them? them taking it all in stride instead. the delusional belief that it's your own expressive way of getting used to their presence— even going as far as turning it into some sort of competition on who gets to have the most scars by the end of the day. i think that's absolutely more insane than just punishing you, and please tell me i was at least able to portray the feeling of doom well with this. i also hope this isn't too ooc. guys, pls pls pls tell me what you think of this, did this cook or what? interaction's been low lately and i've been feeling demotivated to write so uhm... also, if anyone wants me to write the difference between the romantic or platonic implications of masochist/sub batfam, just tell me and i will!

this is inspired by @on-leatheredwings post about masochist tim drake. she's literally the reason why i read the entire red robin comic run and was obsessed with him for like a long period of time because of her banger portrayal of him. and it's also inspired by @sleepingdiaryzzz's recent post, her writing is really immaculate and well thought out unlike mine LMAO and she's a tad bit underrated so you guys definitely should check her out! this post is also dedicated to @neerathebrightstar, thank u for being my coolest supporter ever.

[hoshifighting]

Nerd!Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After finding Nerdy!Seungcheol crying in the corner of the locker room because his girlfriend broke up with him to be with a jock after joining in the cheerleading team, you decide to help him and do everything he wished his ex-girlfriend had done. — WC: 6.6k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crack, some bickering—slight enemies2lovers plot, he cries, seungcheol is not a virgin (but his ex never gave him blowjob), mentions of alcohol (beer), mentions of glow-up, reader uses short dress and mentions short skirt, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, cock riding, answering phone in the middle of the sex—voyeur?, hickeys, body fluids (cum) and cringey mentions of hands mimics (fingering/blowjob).

As you head to the dressing room to grab your things after your Friday lonely practice, the usual silence from the night is broken by a faint, muffled sound. You pause, listening intently. It’s a sniffling noise, followed by broken pants. Curiosity piqued, you follow the sound deeper into the lockers, your footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.

Turning the corner, you find Seungcheol, huddled in a corner, hugging his knees to his chest. 

“Seungcheol? What are you doing here?” you ask, a smirk tugging at your lips. Teasing him is practically second nature to you.

His head snaps up, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “What do you want?” he snaps back, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

You place a hand on your waist, raising an eyebrow. “I think the better question is, why are you in the women’s locker room?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Seriously?” he mutters, scrambling to his feet, the embarrassment clear on his tear-streaked face.

You roll your eyes and turn to leave. 

You wait just outside, leaning against the wall with your phone, scrolling through messages, pretending not to notice the state he’s in.

A few moments later, Seungcheol emerges, his face still blotchy from crying but now trying to pull himself together. He dries his tears on his sweatshirt, still hiccuping softly.

“Spill it,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “What happened?”

He hesitates, but he knows that on Monday, everyone will know about it. “Minji broke up with me,” he admits, his voice cracking. “She’s dating Jaehyun from the basketball team now.”

It’s a stereotype for a reason. “And you didn’t see that coming?”

Seungcheol’s face crumples again, and you immediately regret your harsh words.

But you can't help it! Jaehyun is the quintessential jock, the kind of guy who always ends up dating cheerleaders. It’s almost cliché.

Seungcheol nods continuing, looking down at his feet. “I knew she wanted more popularity, but I didn’t think she’d...”

“Look, Seungcheol, she’s not worth it if she’s willing to dump you for some jock just to boost her social status.” You shrug as you walk toward the hallway exit.

He looks up at you, eyes filled with confusion. “Why are you being nice to me?”

You shrug, slipping your phone into your bag. “I can’t let you mope around like this. It’s pathetic.”

He manages a weak smile at that. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” you say, starting to walk again.

You leave Seungcheol at his dorm, giving him a final glance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to toughen up.” 

The weekend passes in a blur of volleyball practice and social events. You don’t see Seungcheol at all, not even a glimpse. Sunday night, you find yourself at a party, scanning the crowded room. There she is—Minji, with Jaehyun, surrounded by people. They look like the picture-perfect couple, a stark contrast to the image of Seungcheol crying in the women’s locker room just two nights ago.

After the party, you head to the convenience store near the university dorms to grab a late-night snack before heading to bed. As you wander down the ramen aisle, you almost bump into someone. You look up and see Seungcheol, his face so fucking swollen and hidden under a hood.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” you whisper, startled, clutching your snacks.

He scoffs, “What do you think? Been crying all weekend.”

You furrow your brows. “Seriously? You’ve been crying the whole time?”

“What do you think?” he repeats, more bitterly this time, grabbing a pack of ramen.

You both head to the cashier, the cashier glancing curiously at Seungcheol's disheveled appearance. As you walk towards the dorm buildings, it strikes you how funny you must look together—your party dress barely covering your ass, and his baggy 'I'm not going to see anyone I know' clothes.

“Man, if you’re going to show up looking like this tomorrow, you might as well ask to leave college for real,” you say, shaking your head.

He sighs, his voice weary. “I’m not going to drop out because of her.”

“Then stop crying,” you reply, exasperated.

He snaps at you, “What do you even know about it?”

You pause in your tracks and give him a hard stare. “While you were crying your eyes out all weekend, she was giving Jaehyun head in his car, like, minutes ago,” you say, your face contorting with disgust at the memory.

His eyes open wide. “She gave him head?! What a whore. She never even gave me a blowjob.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You raise an eyebrow, munching on your snack. “She never did? Seriously?”

He looks even more pissed, fists clenching at his sides. “I swear! And I always—never mind…” 

“Dude, you were crying over someone who’s not even worth it,” you say, shaking your head. “She’s obviously just using Jaehyun for popularity. She’s not worth your tears.”

He kicks a pebble on the sidewalk, the anger beaming off him. “I thought she loved me.” 

“Pfft! Clearly, she didn't,” you reply, shrugging. “She’s a social climber. She’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top.”

He looks at you, grabbing a handful of your snacks “You’re right. I’m done with her.” he mutters, chewing monstrously. Seungcheol frowns, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How did you even know about that?”

“I was at the party,” you admit with a shrug.

He glances at you, taking in your outfit and the faint smell of feminine perfume mixed with alcohol. “Now it makes sense why you smell like that and why you’re dressed like this at 11 p.m. on a Sunday,” He glances down, taking in your party dress that’s riding high.

He recalls the moment in the convenience store when you bent down to grab some Takis from the bottom shelf, your ass almost completely exposed. He had glanced, unfortunately and quickly moved to stand behind you, rolling his eyes, blocking the cashier's view, who was wide-eyed and staring. 

“Man, I gotta tell you about all the crap I had to put up with.” he begins.

You listen attentively, craving some juicy gossip to cap off your weekend. He needed to vent, and you were going to end the day with some top-tier gossip. A win-win situation.

At his dorm, Seungcheol sits on his bed, and you are plopping down on the chair, eager to hear the tea.

“Can you believe she made me cancel our anniversary dinner because she wanted to go to some stupid party instead?” he says, shaking his head.

“No way!” you exclaim, licking Takis powder off your fingers, your eyes wide with interest.

He nods, exasperated. “Yeah, and she didn’t even tell me until the last minute. I had this whole thing planned, and she just ditched me.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, munching on another Takis. 

“And she always made me do her assignments. I spent countless nights writing essays for her while she was out partying.” 

“She did that?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yep,” he sighs, moving restlessly on his bed. “And get this—she once made me wait for three hours outside her dorm because she was ‘getting ready.’ When she finally came out, she said she didn’t feel like going out anymore.”

“That’s insane!” you gasp, shaking your head in disbelief. “She’s the worst.”

“She really is,” he agrees. “And she never wanted to do anything I liked. It was always about her and what she wanted.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s because you’re too nice, Seungcheol. If it were me, I’d have shown up the next day in a mini skirt like this—” You make a gesture with your fingers, indicating something tiny, “—just to rub it in her face.”

He snorts, amused by the thought. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s different for a guy.”

“Maybe,” you reply, pausing as an idea strikes you. “Wait, do you have contact lenses? Or maybe a clipper?”

He looks confused. “What? Why?”

You step closer, gently moving his hair out of his forehead. “Because if you’re going to move on, you need a new look. Let’s start with this mess of hair.” 

He looks at you, confused. “You really think that’ll help?”

“Bro, trust me,” you say, determined. 

You walk around his room, rummaging through his things, looking for the clipper. Seungcheol sits on his bed, looking at you… Nervously. 

As you plug in the clipper, the buzzing sound fills the room. Seungcheol’s eyes widen in alarm. “You’re not going to make me bald, are you?”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember who did the girls’ undercuts below their ponytails for last semester's game?”

His eyes light up in recognition. “That was you?”

You walk back smugly, opening your arms. “Yep, that was all me.”

As you begin cutting his hair, he starts talking again. “You know, she once told me that my glasses made me look like a nerd, and she hated it when I wore them in public.”

You roll your eyes. “Ya! That’s ridiculous. Your glasses suit you. But we can always get you contacts if you want a change.”

You skillfully give him an undercut, trimming his hair and revealing a fresh look. He looks at himself in the mirror, his forehead and thick eyebrows finally getting the attention they deserve. You help him with the contacts, and before you leave his dorm, you give him a final piece of advice.

“No sweaters,” you say firmly.

The next day, as you finish getting ready in your dorm, you hear a knock on the door. Opening it, you find Seungcheol standing there, looking surprisingly handsome in his new look.

“Look at you!” you exclaim, giving him a knowing smile and nodding for him to enter. As you finish getting ready, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He shuffles his feet, looking a bit shy. “I don’t know, just felt weird going alone.” “You look healthy,” he says, his eyes taking in your appearance.

“Yeah, I took a bath,” you reply, deadpan. “You should try it sometime.”

He chuckles, the nervousness fading a bit. 

Together, you head towards the university building. As you walk beside him, you notice people glancing at him, some even doing double-takes. You stand proudly, shoulders squared, almost waving like a beauty queen.

As you and Seungcheol make your way down the hallway, you spot Minji in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a group of people. Your eyes dart between her, Seungcheol, and Jaehyun, and you think to yourself that this moment is straight out of a movie. You almost wish you had popcorn to complete the scene.

You and Seungcheol walk closer, and you can see Minji's eyes light up as she spots him. She opens her mouth, probably ready to deliver some dramatic line or apology. 

But Seungcheol, simply ignores her and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a glance. His chest puffed out slightly.

You take a fine distance from them, your jaw practically dropping in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did that, did you really just ignore her?” you ask, laughing.

Despite his impressive new look, Seungcheol didn’t end up mingling with the jock crowd as you might have expected. 

Instead, during recess, you spotted him from afar, sitting with his book club friends. The contrast was cute—here he was, looking like he could easily fit in with the jocks, but he chose to hang out with his old crew, surrounded by books and enthusiastic chat. He stayed true to his roots, hanging out with the people who truly mattered to him

He had the whole package—stylish haircut, fresh look, and yet, he was still the same Seungcheol. Still maintaining his original traits and habits.

The bell rings, signaling the end of classes, and you head towards the dorms, looking forward to a bit of downtime. Suddenly, you hear someone calling after you.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You turn to see Seungcheol jogging towards you, his new look making him stand out even more than before. He’s out of breath but manages a grin. “How can I show my appreciation for what you did?”

You wave him off with a smile. “You don’t need to do anything.”

He pouts, looking genuinely disappointed. “Come on, please!”

You roll your eyes, teasingly. “Calm down, nerd! Hmm, maybe just a beer or something?”

His face brightens at the suggestion. “Beer? That sounds perfect!”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you both start walking together.

As you and Seungcheol sit at a small corner table in the campus bar, nursing your beers, he takes a swig and shakes his head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe I’m drinking on a Monday,” he says, looking at his beer as if it might somehow magically make the week less mundane.

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes it feels like drinking just becomes a part of the routine. It’s like college fucks you up so much that you need these little escapes to keep your sanity.”

Seungcheol nods in agreement, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s kind of messed up how we end up just normalizing this stuff.”

You both sip in comfortable silence for a moment before he glances at his phone, scrolling through a chat. “Oh, hey, look at this,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

He shows you a photo on his phone. It’s from the party you were at on Sunday—Minji inside Jaehyun’s car, Minji’s head is down, clearly giving him a blowjob, and Jaehyun’s face is smug. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you look at it.

“Ugh, yeah, that’s what I saw,” you say, cringing. “I didn’t want to think about it again.”

Seungcheol sighs heavily. “It’s just... seeing that, after everything that happened, it’s like she’s moved on and I’m left here...”

You take a deep breath, considering his frustration. “Yeah, I get it. It’s a shitty situation.”

He looks at you. “You know, I never really got why she never... I mean, she never did that for me. Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

You blink, taken aback by his confession. “She has never given you a blowjob? You were serious then?”

Seungcheol nods, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, and now seeing her do it for Jaehyun... it just feels like a slap in the face.”

You sip your beer, thinking it over. The whole situation has him worked up, and you can’t help but feel a bit sympathetic. 

“Damn, that’s rough. I can see why you’d be so pissed.”

“it’s like, she was so willing to do it with Jaehyun, but never with me,” he says, clearly frustrated.

“Well, now you know,” you say, a bit smugly. “She was obviously saving that for Jaehyun.”

He looks down at his beer, indeed annoyed. “Yeah, she was a piece of work. I guess I should have seen it coming.”

“Well, we could always find a way to have some fun and blow off steam. I’m sure there’s a way to make you forget about Minji’s bullshit.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow with curiosity. “Like what?”

“I’m sure we could figure something out. Maybe even something you’ve been wanting for a while.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

You lean in even closer, your voice barely a whisper. “Let’s just say, I know a thing or two about making someone forget their ex and feel a lot better. Are you interested?”

You smirk, is he acting, or he's that bad at catching hints?

He looks at you, catching the hint. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grin, leaning in a bit closer. “Depends on what you think I’m saying.”

He blushes slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Careful, Y/N. You’re making it sound like you’re fishing for something specific.”

“Maybe I am. Just putting it out there.” you shrug.

“Are you serious? Stop playin' with me.”

“I'm dead serious.”

He looks at you, contemplating the offer. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

You can't quite pinpoint if it's the alcohol working its magic, loosening up inhibitions, or if it’s just the chemistry between you and Seungcheol, but his attempts at flirting are hitting all the right notes. There’s a certain charm to the way he’s leaning closer, trying to gauge your reactions with every word he says.

He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes meeting yours. “You know,” he starts, his voice a bit slurred, “I’ve always admired how you can just say whatever you want.”

You laugh softly, leaning in to match his tone. “Oh really? And what else do you admire?”

He smiles, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, for starters, your confidence. And the way you’re not afraid to call me out. It’s actually pretty sexy.”

The alcohol seems to be giving him a boldness you’ve never seen before. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face a bit clumsy.

“You’re drunk,” you tease, though you can’t deny the flutter of excitement his touch brings.

“Maybe,” he admits, his gaze lingering on your lips. “But I’m not too drunk to know when something feels right.”

“Seungcheol,” you say softly, trying to keep things light but feeling a pull towards him, “are you sure you want to go down this road?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

[...]

The scent of your dorm—so unmistakably you—fills Seungcheol's senses, making him harder than ever. As he stands before you, your naked form on your knees, your hand between your legs touching your throbbing clit, and the sight of you looking up at him with hunger in your eyes, it’s enough to make his head spin.

You stroke his cock with one hand, licking your lips like you’re about to devour him. 

His cheeks are flushed, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from the very embarrassment of the situation. He bites his bottom lip, eyes wide with anticipation, his cock starting to ache with need. The handjob you’re giving him is good, but it’s not nearly enough.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” you murmur, your voice dripping with lust. You can feel his cock twitching in your hand, the head sticky with precum.

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the sight of your hand moving up and down his shaft. 

You lean in, your tongue flicking out to taste the precum at the tip of his cock. The salty, slightly bitter taste coats your tongue, and you hum appreciatively, savoring the flavor. Seungcheol's breath hitches, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Oh, fuck!” he groans, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

You smile up at him, loving his reaction. You want this to be memorable, to engrave this moment into his mind permanently. You give the head of his cock a few teasing licks before enveloping your lips around it. 

“Holy shit, Y/N!” he groans, his voice ragged. As you slide your mouth further down, taking him deeper, his body curls inward, every muscle tensing. It’s like you’re sucking every ounce of energy from him, and he can barely stand it. Your mouth is so wet, so warm, and you look so devoted, so gorgeous.

You look up at him through your lashes, seeing the absolute ecstasy on his face. You’re dedicated, giving all of yourself to make this perfect for him. You bob your head, sucking him deeper, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. Your tongue works along his length, swirling around the tip before you take him in again.

Seungcheol’s efforts to hold back his moans crumble. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so good,” he whimpers, his voice loaded with desperation. He grips your hair, not to control but to anchor himself, as his arms on the bed threaten to give out.

You hum around his cock, the vibrations making him shudder. You suck harder, your hand stroking the base of his shaft in beat with your mouth. You can feel him throbbing against your tongue, his neediness evident in every spasm and moan.

His moans become louder, more ragged, filling the room. The sound of his pleasure fuels your horniness, and you touch yourself more frantically, your fingers rubbing your clit in time with the movements of your mouth. You’re giving him everything, and you love the way he’s falling apart above you.

“Y/N, I’m so close,” he chokes out whiny. “I can’t… I can’t hold it…”

You look up at him, and suck him even harder, your mouth sliding up and down his length faster. You want to push him over the edge, to give him the orgasm he so desperately needs. Your hand strokes his shaft with more speed, your mouth working tirelessly.

You can't believe that Minji never gave Seungcheol a blowjob. Just the sight of his cock is almost enough to make you cum. With your hand still slick from touching yourself, you grab the base of his shaft and take him as deep as you can, sinking him down your throat. 

You hold him there for some seconds, feeling the tears from your gag reflex forming. When you pull back, you see him nearly losing his balance.

Determined to make this unforgettable, you’re willing to suck his very soul out if it means you get to see his face as he cums and hear those incredible moans from him.

Seungcheol’s body tenses, his muscles locking up as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cries out.

Seungcheol’s entire body convulses, his hips jerking uncontrollably as you milk every drop from him. His eyes roll back, and he lets out a guttural moan, the sound of someone utterly lost in pleasure. You keep sucking him gently, drawing out his orgasm, until he’s left trembling and spent.

When you finally release him, Seungcheol collapses onto the bed, needing to lay down to recover. 

You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling a rush of pride at the look of utter bliss on his face. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles so wide it makes your heart swell.

He sits up slightly, his hand wrapping around your throat. He grips you gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. You’re caught off guard when he leans in, not giving you just a peck, but sliding his tongue into your mouth. You thought he might find it weird after cumming in your mouth, but he does it without hesitation, moaning at the taste.

You can feel your pussy immediately dripping onto the sheets. His kiss is hungry, filled with gratitude and lingering fascination, and you kiss him back just as fervently, your hands tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull away, you both are breathing heavily.

“Damn, Y/N,” he bites his bottom lip. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Seungcheol's eyes roam over your body, and you can see the determination in his gaze. He wants to pay you back, to show you what he can do. Gently, he lifts you onto the bed, laying you down. He positions himself between your legs, his stomach pressed against the mattress. You hear him hiss slightly as his sensitive dick makes contact with the sheets, but his focus remains on you.

“I’ve been studying up on this, Y/N,” he says with a proud smile, like he’s presenting a perfect exam result. “Time to show you what I’ve learned.”

He starts by kissing your inner thighs, his lips soft and teasing against your skin. You shiver, your breath hitching in tension. When his mouth finally reaches your pussy, he doesn't hesitate. His tongue darts out, tasting you for the first time, and he lets out a low, appreciative hum.

“You taste so good,” he says, almost to himself, before diving in.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, his tongue parting your folds and flicking over your clit. You moan, your hips twitching involuntarily. Seungcheol’s hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he starts to work his tongue with more ambition.

His tongue encircles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks it into his mouth, creating a delicious pressure that makes you gasp. He alternates between sucking and licking, his mouth hot and insistent. 

You can hear the wet sounds of his mouth on you, mingling with your moans, and it’s driving you even more soaked.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, that feels so good,” you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. “You’re so good at this, nerd.” you smile looking at him.

He looks up at you eyes light up at the praise. “You like that?” he asks, his voice muffled against your pussy.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you plead.

He continues to be concentrated on you, his eyes sharp and focused, studying every reaction. His tongue flicks over your clit, and your hips buck against his mouth. He smiles against you, clearly pleased with your response.

Seungcheol grins and shifts slightly, bringing his fingers into play. He teases your entrance with one finger before slowly pushing it inside you, curling it just right to hit that sweet spot—finding it embarrassingly fast. You shout, your back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, Seungcheol, just like that,” you pant, your hips grinding against his face.

He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out of you while his mouth continues its assault on your clit. The combination is mind-blowing, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge. His fingers twist and curl inside you, like they're calling you, pressing against your sweet spot, and your moans become louder, more desperate.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs.. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers.”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, your thighs squeezing around his head. 

You feel a bit guilty for trapping him like this, but Seungcheol looks delighted, his thick eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he reads every reaction from your body.

He flicks his tongue over your clit in a rapid, persistent move, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm. The wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you, combined with the slick noises from his mouth, are almost obscene, but they only heighten your arousal.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “Don’t stop, Seungcheol, please.”

He doesn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working you with a preciseness that makes your head spin. You can feel the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!” you cry out, your body shuddering violently as the orgasm rips through you.

Seungcheol keeps going, drawing out your orgasm, his fingers curling and his tongue flicking relentlessly. Your moans are loud and broken, your hips grinding against his face as you moan vulgarly, your chest rising as you soak his mouth and face. 

Your body convulses, your thighs squeezing him even tighter, and you scream his name, your voice echoing in the room. He continues to lick and finger you through it, prolonging your orgasm until you’re left shaking and breathless.

Finally, he pulls back, his face shining with your arousal, a pleased smile on his lips. “How was that?”

Your body is still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, and all you can manage is a breathless moan, your hands smudging your face as you try to collect yourself. Seungcheol laughs softly at your reaction.

“I don’t know if I can ride you right now,” you admit, your voice shaking. “I’m still trembling.”

He smirks, a naughty glint in his eyes. “Who said anything about you riding me? I can fuck you just as good, just lay back and let me take care of you.”

The promise in his words makes you clench, and you nod, eager to feel him inside you. He positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and ready. As he lines himself up with your entrance, you can’t help but gasp at the sight of his size.

When he finally pushes inside you, the stretch is both breathless and blissful. His cock fills you completely, the sensation intensified by how wet you are. Your body welcomes him, and he slides in easily, the friction making you moan loudly.

“Oh god, Seungcheol, just like that!” you breathe out, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He lowers his head, his lips brushing against your neck as he begins to move. His kisses are surprisingly sweet for the roughness of his thrusts, and you find the contrast and incredibly hot.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moans, his thrusts becoming more urgent. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more and more.

“Fuck me like you mean it.” you grit through your teeth. 

Seungcheol’s eyes blacken, and he grips your hips, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. You cry out, your head falling back against the pillow, your body jiggling with each strong movement.

 “I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name,” he promises, and you know he means it.

His thrusts become relentless, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, your eyes watering. Your moans turn into cries, your mind going blank with pleasure. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you cling to him, needing him closer.

“Seungcheol, I’m gonna—”

The sudden sound of Seungcheol’s phone ringing startles both of you. “Fuck... no,” he mutters, pulling out of you reluctantly. You almost swallow a sob, your orgasm fading away.

"Answer it," you tell him, your voice steady despite your frustration.

He looks at the caller ID, his face contorting in disgust. "Minji," he says, showing the screen to you. You wave your hand, signaling for him to answer. He does, putting the call on speaker. The fact that he's not hiding it, that he wants you to hear, that he doesn't have a problem with it, is unexpectedly hot.

“Seungcheol?” You roll your eyes at her voice.

“Yeah?” he replies, his tone short and uninterested.

“I... I wanted to talk. Can we meet up?” she asks, her voice faltering.

You sit up silently, your mind racing. Seungcheol answers her shortly, clearly wanting to hang up. As he talks, you get an idea. You crawl over to him, your eyes locked on his as you straddle his lap, your breasts pressing against his face. 

He looks up at you, confused.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, his breath hitching.

“Seungcheol, are you listening to me?” Minji’s voice is impatient, and he can't answer.

You just smile, grabbing his cock and sliding it back inside you as his face contorts in silence, jaw slack as he looks inside your eyes. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as you begin to move, slowly at first, then faster, circling your hips around him.

“Seungcheol? Are you there?” She asks, sounding more desperate now.

He tries to answer, but you start moving, slowly at first, then picking up the pace.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replies, his voice strained. He places a hand on your hip, trying to steady you as you ride him.

“What are you doing?” her voice cuts through the tension, suspicion clear.

You moan slyly, loudly, not even needing to force it. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you purr, the sound sending a cold lick down his spine. He can't help but moan too, his resolve breaking.

Minji’s voice rises in panic. “Seungcheol, what’s going on? Who’s there with you?”

He can’t help but moan too, gripping your hips tighter. “Don’t talk to me anymore, Minji,” he says, his voice strained with pleasure.

“What the hell is happening? Who is that?!” She's furious.

Seungcheol’s hands grip your hips, his body shuddering with each thrust. “Y/N... I can’t...”

“Just a little more,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his neck. “Let her hear how good I make you feel.”

He groans, unable to hold back any longer. “Minji, I’m fucking done with you,” he says, his voice shaking. “Don’t call me again!”

You moan again, louder this time, and Seungcheol echoes your sound, his head falling back. 

The call disconnects abruptly, but you don’t stop. 

You ride him harder, feeling him throb inside you, his body tensing as he reaches his peak.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his moans as he comes, his release sending you over the edge as well.

Seungcheol throws the phone aside with a decisive flick of his wrist, his focus entirely on you now—not that he stopped, his mind was imploring for you every second. 

He grips your hips firmly, handling you on his lap with a possessive, almost primal passion, like you’re a fucking doll. The strength of his arms moving you on his lap, makes you gasp, and you abruptly pull away from the kiss, your hand flying to your mouth in a futile attempt to suppress your scream.

It doesn’t work. 

The sound that escapes you is raw and unfiltered—a high-pitched scream that echoes off the walls of the dorm room. You’re cumming all over his cock, your cum spilling over onto his balls and pelvis, the wetness spreading in a deliciously messy explosion.

Seungcheol’s grip tightens, his breathing ragged as he feels the lock of your orgasm. He’s fighting his own demons to keep his eyes open, the pleasure so harsh that it’s almost too much to endure. His eyes are locked on yours, and you see the struggle written all over his face.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his voice wasted with overstimulation. His moves become more desperate, desperate to feel every inch of you.

Your body shakes uncontrollably, every muscle tensed as you fight to keep your eyes open, to stay grounded in the moment. You feel the room spinning, the pleasure so intense that it’s almost blinding. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you struggle to stay upright.

You collapse against Seungcheol. He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a protective, almost desperate grip. Despite his own wavering strength, his desire to hold and shield you is real, overshadowing any fatigue he might be feeling.

With the last of your strength, you gently pull his cock out of you, your movements sluggish. You remain close, still wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and softness of his body against yours. The sensation of his cock slipping free leaves a trail of dampness between you, your orgasms dripping onto his pelvis and the sheets beneath you.

Seungcheol shudders as he feels the wetness spreading across his skin. The soaked feeling on his pelvis, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, makes him groan softly. His hands are still firmly clasped around you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we just did that while Minji was on the phone.”

You chuckle softly, your exhaustion making your laugh feel weak but genuine. 

Seungcheol lets out a rueful laugh. “I was trying so hard to keep it together while she was talking, and here you are, riding me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “So, what did she hear exactly? Did she get the full experience or just a taste?”

Seungcheol grins, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Oh, she heard more than a taste. I was trying to get her off the line quickly, but with you going at it like that, I think she caught on pretty fast. She definitely knew something was up.”

“And now she’s probably going to think you’re a total jerk for just hanging up on her like that.”

“To be honest, I was so caught up in how good you were making me feel that I couldn’t even process what she was saying. All I could think about was you.”

The next morning is a whirlwind of frantic activity and poorly disguised attempts to cover up the previous night's larks. As you glance in the mirror, you notice the indicative signs of sex: red, blossoming hickeys on your neck that stubbornly refuse to be concealed. You grab your concealer and try your best to dab and blend, but the more you work, the more obvious it seems.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is in an equally frantic state. He’s darting around his dorm room, desperately scrubbing away any remaining proof of the night before. He’s juggling a toothbrush in his mouth while trying to hide the hickeys with his hoodie. He eventually settles on a high-collared shirt that looks formal and slightly out of place for a morning class, but it gets the job done.

You rush out of your dorm, barely managing to grab your things before heading to your first class. The entire way there, you catch glimpses of yourself in shop windows and mirrors, each time cringing at how you might still look too happy, too satisfied.

Seungcheol is nearly out of breath by the time he arrives at the hallways, his face flushed—not entirely from exertion, you suspect.

“Did you manage to get rid of all the hickeys?” Seungcheol whispers walking on your side suddenly, as he tries to adjust his collar without drawing too much attention.

“Not even close,” you reply with a wry smile. “I’m basically wearing a turtleneck now, but it’s not foolproof.”

He laughs, a bit too loudly given the circumstances. “Well, at least we look like we’re going somewhere fancy. If anyone asks, just say it’s a new fashion statement.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s going to work. I’m just hoping people don’t look too closely.”

As you both ascend the stairs to your respective classes, the early morning hustle is almost forgotten when Seungcheol suddenly grabs your wrist, his eyes darting around to ensure no one is watching. 

The empty stairwell is the perfect backdrop for his next move.

Before you can react, Seungcheol leans in and steals a quick, tender peck from your lips. The unexpected kiss surprises you, and a smile instantly lights up your face. You respond with another, slightly longer kiss.

You pull back slightly, looking at him with a playful glint in your eye. “So, what about tonight?” you ask slyly.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”

You make a theatrical gesture with your hand, tracing a path up and down to your cheek, poking your cheek with your tongue, mimicking the motion of sucking him off. Your naughty movement is clear and provocative.  

Seungcheol's face flushes instantly, his eyes widening as he processes your meaning.

He bites his lip, his eyes locking onto yours with a glint of playful defiance. With a teasing smirk, he lifts his middle fingers, licking them exaggeratedly before curling them inward, making the motion unmistakably obscene.

“Something like this?” he asks, his voice sultry, his eyes never leaving yours. “Think you can handle it tonight?”

You can't help but be taken aback by Seungcheol's bold gesture, your jaw falling slack in surprise. 

“Meet me at the storage room,” you murmur, urgent. “You’re going to finger me there.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. “The storage room?” he repeats, his voice a quiet, thrilled whisper, his breath catching slightly.

He thinks then gives you a quick, eager nod, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“Sure thing,” he continues. “Can’t wait.”

A birthday one-shot to my cutie pie hahaha 29 years old—I'm crying n'shit. 😭🥺❤️

[niceutossu]

Serious | Oikawa x Reader

Oikawa doesn’t want to get married until you get hurt and he can’t see you. “Family only,” the nurse tells him coldly. And he tries his best to charm his way through, joking about how you two were even closer than family but the worker doesn’t budge.

“Only blood relatives?” He asks, despite knowing the answer himself.

“Or spouse.” The woman replied, avoiding eye contact as she scribbled down important information and continued ignoring his existence.

“I’m practically-“ Before he could finish, he stopped at the sight of her hand raising.

“Are you legally married?” She interjected, clearly having gone through this conversation dozens of times before. Oikawa couldn’t even blame her for the annoyance, as much as he couldn’t blame himself for trying.

“No.” He says dejectedly, shoulders falling with a deep sigh.

“Then please just wait until actual family gets here.” She states, motioning towards the waiting room as he did his best not to scowl.

Instead, he offered her a forced but friendly smile, retreating towards the uncomfortable hospital chairs. As he sat down the plastic squeaked: loud and jarring, and he grimaced. There was no point in arguing but it didn’t ease the nervousness crawling under his skin. How long had you been here? How long before he could see you? He began tapping his foot restlessly, only serving to amplify the ache in his chest.

You two were family, practically at least. You both lived together. You shared meals, inside jokes, and the kind of silence that only happens between people who really get each other. He knew how you liked your tea, the temperature you liked to have bath drawn to. Was that not family-like?

He clenched his hands, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms as memories started to surface, further sharpening the ache. He’d never bothered to bring up marriage, and you never asked. You both knew—knew what being a pro-athlete entailed. Time off spent planning was time he lost playing. He thought he had made it clear he was still yours and you were his. But now, as he sits helplessly outside your hospital room, he regrets never saying anything.

If you were really his he’d be able to see you, and if he was really yours then he’d be willing to settle down and take things seriously. He feels himself cringe as he remembers similar words Iwaizumi had spoken to him the night you two had first met.

After introductions and hours of chatting, the three of you finally settled into a comfortable rhythm. You and Iwaizumi were a surprise match—though Oikawa teased that it shouldn’t be that surprising given that he had good taste, earning him a synchronized glare from the two of you.

He felt his heart flip in his chest—he really did have good taste (and maybe a type). Later, during a moment of quiet, Oikawa excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, he found the two of you sitting in a mutual silence.

“Hey I was gone for just a second now, what happened to all the good times?” He joked, his signature smirk only lasting a moment before being startled by the sound of the restaurant staff singing happy birthday behind him.

Turning around, he watched as they brought out a small cake with candles. His name written out in chocolate syrup and topped off with powdered sugar in the shape of his jersey number.

“I told her you weren’t worth it but she insisted.” Iwaizumi deadpanned, but the softness in his eyes betrayed him. Oikawa felt a lump form in his throat at the sight of your warm smile. The glow from the candles were nothing compared to the light in your eyes when you looked at him.

“Happy birthday Tooru.” You spoke gently, contrasting the loud cheers behind him. He felt a weird weakness wash over him, one that scared him more than the surprise singing.

You’d already celebrated with him that morning—and afternoon. He’d never thought you’d extend it to dinner. He was known to be a dramatic guy, extravagant even, but being celebrated for those things felt foreign.

Later, as you took a call nearby and he and Iwaizumi argued over the bill, his friend placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi asked, his voice softer than usual, “you’re serious about this, right?” He didn’t need to specify; his question hung in the air, pressing gently but firmly on Oikawa’s usual bravado.

Caught off guard, Oikawa searched for a lighthearted response, but Iwaizumi’s hand didn’t move. He hesitated, then admitted quietly, “I’ve never been celebrated like this before.” He felt small under the weight of his best friend’s discerning gaze.

In all his previous relationships, he had failed to feel true intimacy, always keeping partners at an arms-length. He thought your relationship would be no different, that it’d still be on his terms albeit a bit toxic.

Except it was not like that at all.

You were like a whirlwind in his life, at first catching him off guard but now helping him build solid foundations. Between the two of you, he was definitely more needy. In the past, he would’ve said it was the other way around but you had your own undeniable magnetism. Anyone with eyes would be sure to see it too, and see right through him at the same time.

The feminine niceties he thought he had grown accustomed to had him giddy and unable to keep his hands off you. Everything you did had his heart racing and for the first time in his life, he was nervous to lose someone.

His suave streak had been brutally ended by your presence alone, having made him feel like he was worth loving again and again without even knowing. His own sweet and cheeky angel.

“If it feels good, then take it seriously.” Iwaizumi replied, his words simple but earnest. Before Oikawa could respond, you returned, bringing back your carefree nature he always craved, the same one he was starting to feel like he didn’t deserve.

Despite it being his birthday, despite feeling a certain question rise behind the heaviness in his throat after his exchange with Iwaizumi, he stayed quiet. He could’ve at least made a joke about it then, but he didn’t.

He’d told himself he was taking it, you, seriously—that you would understand without him saying it out loud. You knew him and he knew you, was that not enough? Maybe not to Iwaizumi, who also knew him maybe a bit better than he knew himself sometimes. The thought of losing you the same way he’d lost others left a knot in his stomach.

He had tried to ignore this truth: that you meant something more—not just to him, but to the people he loved. Yet every now and then, there would be reminders of just how deeply you’d embedded yourself into his life.

He started to reminisce on how he’d found out how you kept visiting his nephew after he’d left for Argentina. He’d received a photo out of the blue: you and Takeru, cheek-to-cheek, grinning at the zoo. His younger self would’ve called it impossible—Takeru, in a picture? Smiling? But there it was.

He quickly replied back with a like to the photo and a teasing message along the lines of ‘huh why what’. He’d barely hit send before you replied with another picture. This time it was of you and his older sister pressed cheek to cheek, her eyes shining with the same warmth he felt every time he looked at you.

“Sponsored trip by my favorite Oikawa <3,” you’d written.

As much as he wanted to text back a cheeky remark he felt himself falter, too focused on the way his sisters eyes shined with the same affection he felt for you. It made him feel a little funny, a little weak. The same way he felt when Iwaizumi prodded him. This was family and something else he couldn’t name quite yet.

Without even thinking he called you, needing to hear your voice and feel like he was there with you (and, of course, remind you that he’s your favorite). He’d kept his tone light, playful. But there’d been a weight in his chest, the same question hovering unasked. He knew you could tell in the way you asked him things, lingered onto his replies as if to find some deeper meaning.

Again, he could have asked. He could have made you family in name as well as in his heart, so many times. Except now, that same question haunted him, and he wasn’t sure he even deserved to ask anymore.

He shook his head as if to rid himself of any more good memories, not allowing himself to relish in you with all the regret that gnawed at him. He was so good at not biting his tongue except when it came to things that mattered. Because nothing was serious to Oikawa until it was, for better or for worse.

And he didn’t know exactly when you had become serious to him, but you had. He felt a tremor pass through him at the thought of seeing you look anything less than alive. Or not being able to make you laugh when you come home sullen anymore.

He moved around restlessly at that thought of not seeing you again. It felt wrong—horribly wrong. He took in a deep breath to calm his ragged nerves. He would see you again, even if it meant seeing you at your worst.

You had seen him at his most selfish and prideful and yet, you still reached out to him, unafraid. He wanted, no, needed to show you that he loved every single part of you the same, no matter how overwhelming because no one could be as much as he is sometimes.

All the relationships he had in high school, college, and the flings in-between had felt so stifling. The thought of making a legal commitment had always made Oikawa’s skin crawl. Except now, sitting under the sterile white lights and thinking of just how much you meant to him feels even more suffocating. You weren’t a high school girl or a fling, you were you.

And then the realization hits him hard: maybe he does wants all of it, as long as it’s with you—the highs, the lows, the commitment he once ran from. For there to never be any more regrets, to love and to cherish, all of it as long as it was with you.

But what if he was too late again?

“Tooru?” The soft sound of your voice pulls him from his spiraling thoughts. His head snaps up, eyes wide as he sees you standing there, in a hospital gown, looking a bit pale but alive. Your face is a little worn, eyes sunken in but you’re still here. You’re still you. Relief floods him, so overwhelming he barely notices the creak of the plastic chair as he rises, taking long and purposeful strides towards you.

If it feels good then take it seriously.

He stands in front of you for a moment, not knowing where to place his hands as familiar words gather in his throat the way they had so many times before. Except he doesn’t let himself hold back—not this time. He’d held onto these words for too long, out of fear or pride, whatever it was, it didn’t matter now.

Everything is clear as he sinks down on one knee, eyes locked on yours as he finally gives in to what he’s always wanted: you.

[affableramen]

them apologising for calling you bad names

hurt/comfort, established relationships

(Pantalone, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Tartaglia, Capitano, Alhaitham, Dottore, Dainsleif, Baizhu)

Pantalone

You avoid him for the rest of the day but eventually in the bed time Pantalone meets you. He enters the bedroom with a grave expression in his eyes, eyeing you sit there on the bed with a book in your hands. Distracting, he thinks, she is distracting herself. 

“You know I didn't utter those words seriously”, Pantalone says, omitting the usual ‘darling’ on his lips. You roll your eyes and shake your head dismissively, showing him apparent unwillingness to chat over the issue any longer.

“Say”, Pantalone leans to the door, his fingers, at this moment of time, bare, scratching the roof edges of his antiquated mansion wall, “Are you deeply offended by my comment? It is but something… trivial.” Seeing no reaction from you Pantalone slowly makes his way to the bed and sits down, his body making an impact to the mattress, that being gently pressed on.

“I should have held my tongue.”

“Your tongue is poisonous”, you say abruptly. Upon hearing this, Pantalone reaches his hand to your hand and takes it in his. 

“Hear me out… Please, darling, I would never honestly speak so ill-mannered of you. It was out of stress. You are not… pathetic. Never have been.”

“Mhm. How about ‘brat’? How about ‘loving me only because I provide for the family?’” 

Pantalone closes his eyes and shakes his head. You can see how his own words inflicted upon you sting. 

“Nonsense! Not a single word I spoke then was truthful.”

“Pantalone, if I ever made you doubt my affections, please do let me know.”

You abruptly put your book on the bedside table and switch the lights off. 

Wriothesley

“Why do you keep insisting on these things? You think I don’t know them?”

“I think you’re simply less educated than me. You should understand, Y/N that in some aspects you may be less intelligent. Stupid even.”

“Less intelligent! Stupid!” 

Wriothesley covers his face and bites his own lip when he realises what unruly language he just used. 

“I didn't mean that-”

“That I’m stupid?” Your patience blows up and you decisively start strutting to the exit door of his office.

“I didn't mean to sound that harshly!” Desperately Wriothesley follows; but to no avail. You already shut your door before his nose.

A few hours after Wriothesley finds you in your two’s favourite café, of course it would be the place where you’d go to reflect on your irritation. 

“Here, your favourites”, he puts the bouquet of vivid red flowers on top of the coffee table, next to your hand, and does it with such carefulness of behaviour you would least expect from him.

You look at him, facing Wriothesley’s eyes at last and as if having your thoughts read the duke says with regret:

“And sorry.”

You take a look at the flowers, your fingers caressing the petals.

“Okay”, you respond quietly. Wriothesley receives approval from you and takes a seat, his attitude nothing but amiable, a far cry from his roughness in the morning.

Neuvillette

“I told you that some matters I unfortunately, willing or not, have to solve on my own. There is no place for you in some of my business, because you’re just one weak-” Neuvillette holds his tongue, realising how personally offensive the words he said sounded. How villainous he suddenly appeared before you.

“Human? Yeah, I know. But me being human doesn't mean I can’t think and analyse, and there’s no way I’d approve the responsibility you’re about to take on yourself. I strictly dissgree.”

“Strictly disagree?” Neuvillette does not believe his ears, for you had always been a quiet amd obedient one, quite agreeable and supportive of his opinions. Yet this time you could not stay silent, seeing how your precious husband puts himself in danger for the hundredth time.

“You are to not take on that mission, are we clear, Neuvillette? And I am not weak, neither am I dumb or uninformed.”

In awe, Neuvillette stands there, looking at you. At last he takes one careful step closer, his hand in his hair, pulling it back as he’s thinking on something with raw intensity.

“If my wife is ready to convince me so much to not do something, if she finds my impulses false, then I will do my best to refrain. Knowing how worried you might be for me, perhaps it would be wise to reject the mission first and utmost.”

You nod, your face grave, uninterested as you turn away from him and walk out of his office. Only then Neuvillette stops you, his wrist tightly on yours. 

“Please, beloved, if you could forgive me for my poor choice of words and underestimating your judgment.”

“It doesn't happen first time, Neuvillette, for being a dragon sovereign makes you incredibly stiff to perceiving others’ opinions. But I’m glad if you do truly believe me now.”

“I do. Please, don't stay furious and frustrated for long.” 

You finally smile, forgiving your dragon husband as you make haste to leave the court, otherwise dramatic Fontainian society that loves gossiping and tragedy so much, will turn your little banter into a lavish scandal.

Tartaglia

“Peanut, I just said that you can’t fight as hard as I do, I didn't mean it in a bad way.”

“Of course, Ajax. You meant it in the way ‘I’m the coolest, and you are inferior’.”

“No, no, no. It’s a misunderstanding! Hear me out, babygirl…” Tartaglia gently grips the both of your shoulders and stares intimately into your eyes.

“I just wanted… You know, I just meant…” he blushes crazily and his expression radiates sheer embarrassment as he tries to seek excuse to explain himself. “I, uhh… Consider myself a great fighter, and you are exceptionally good, too…”

“Exceptionally good?” 

“Absolutely exceptionally good, babygirl. But I am simply worried, okay? I’m scared”, he rubs your shoulders up and down, as if trying to comfort you, but in honesty it rather comforts himself. “I don’t want you hurt. So you better stay home. Training.”

“Training only, nice. I will never fight real enemies if I am constantly kept hostage in Fatui training camp.”

“You’re just… so fragile. You know what I mean?”

“Uhuh. The Eleventh considers me a weakling. Nice discovery, if you weren't my boyfriend”, you free yourself from his grasp and go about the narrow long corridor of headquarters. “I thought you would trust in me and my power a tiny bit more.”

Ajax follows you immediately, his steps agile and steady as his hand gently takes yours.

“You may come with me next time. But tomorrow, I want you safe. Okay? And please… I’d never call you weak… Never.”

“Mm…” you gently caress his gloved hand with your thumb, almost failing to see him in the dim light, but feeling his erratic breath caused by quick talking.

Capitano

“I can’t let you do this, woman. You are acting immature. You have always been a bit naïve, but this is where you should start obeying me”, Capitano says with a harsh, yet genteel aura around him.

“And my love for you, Capitano, is also naïve?”

At that moment Capitano drops his expressionless, emotionless act and looks at you with horrified glint in his eyes. He wants to comfort you, to apologise for his words but realises that was once said cannot be taken back. Oh how he wishes he would hold his tongue for a little while longer!

“I didn't mean that, woman. You know that I would never-”

He shuts his eyes for a second, a storm of overwhelming thoughts crosses his mind over and over while you are standing before him, patiently waiting for an answer and expecting your husband to provide you with a proper one.

“You are weak… no not weak; you are frail. You need protection. And I want to protect you, but I may not be able to do it in Natlan. Not when I am wounded myself.”

“Oh, believe me, Capitano, I can and will protect myself. And you know what, big guy? I don't even need your permission to come with you anymore. You will accept me, because I am your wife, and I will be by your side. Especially, when you are wounded.”

Capitano raises his hand to caress your cheek with his knuckles, light-weight.

“You are going to get yourself in trouble, love.”

“I know my limits, and I can clearly see that my husband needs me, even though he won't ever admit it.”

The raven-haired tall gracious man with impeccably sharp aura around him speaks with emotion:

“But if you get hurt, I won’t ever be able to forgive myself.”

You stand on your tiptoes and cup his cheeks.

“Oh, Capitano, I will take care of myself just to spare you the trouble.”

Dottore

“You’re a dork, I don’t even have pity for your stupidity. You got this chemical burn deserved.”

“Said who? You’re the one treating it right now, Doctor”, you respond with a tiny smug smirk, watching how carefully and gently Dottore is working on your palm. The burn is not too big, but painful enough to prevent you from completing your tasks for today.

Dottore reveals his teeth, groaning at you, his self highly dissatisfied and frustrated. He smoothly applies a herbal-smelling ointment and covers your hand with tight bandages.

“I insist you staying home tomorrow. I will speak with Pierro and describe him the accident.”

“Surely you don't have to go to such lengths for me only, Dottore. You know, I could speak with the Jester myself.”

Dottore stabs the knife with which he had been cutting the bandages, into the desk.

“NO, he won’t even speak to you. He is very uneasy to find”, he lets out a long held sigh. “Besides, brat, I think I made it clear you need to rest at home.” He glares at you with his poisonous ruby eyes. “Primarily, in your bed.”

“If the doctor says so”, you shrug, too exhausted to argue and too grateful for his help to deny him of this small favour. “I do not mind staying in my bed for a little while.”

Once the treatment has come to an end, Dottore once again checks your hand; quickly, lightly, without a single unnecessary touch or glance. 

“Sorry for calling you a dork. I didn't mean it wholeheartedly”, he clears throat. “Though I still think your ass is highly careless.”

“I will work on it, hopefully my curiosity doesn't lead me to any other injuries”, you wave to him upon leaving the lab. “Can’t have my doctor worry too much.”

“Remember to look closer what you touch in my lab next time, silly creature.”

Dainsleif

“I think you’re forgetting how difficult it is to fight Abyss alone. I can’t believe you disobeyed me again and went seeking for abyssal hounds. This is infuriating, Y/N. I have never seen a woman act so stupidly and rashly before”, Dainsleif says roughly, through gritted teeth. His expression is grave and ominous.

“I feel strong desire to take your Vision away and lock you home until you learn to respect my rules.”

“Your ‘rules’?” You raise your eyebrow, looking at Dainsleif no less infuriated and frustrated than he is currently. “You think if you’re older than me, I have to act like your little puppet on strings who does everything that is ordered? Hell no, Dainsleif. We won’t have it this way.”

“FOOL!” He yells, his arm grabbing you tightly and pressing you against a wall. “You could have gotten yourself killed! You could have been hurt! You don’t know the thoughts running through my mind when I imagine you hurt; I want to burn the whole world for you.”

“Let me go, Dain. Please, this is uncalled for, you know that, right?” As you gently ask him Dainsleif slowly, but hesitantly releases your arm and takes a step back, closing his hands behind his back.

“I ask you once again to refrain from getting yourself harmed by the hand of Abyss.”

“Did you just call me a fool? I thought you were better than that.”

“For that ruthless language, I apologise. However I need your obedience when it comes to survival matters.”

Slowly, you walk over to look into Dainsleif’s eyes.

“I understand your tragedy wholeheartedly and I sincerely respect your wish to protect me, but you need to understand that my fighting skills are not low anymore, I can be efficient and agile.”

Dainsleif’s head hangs down, you see that he is contemplating something in the depth of his heart.

“I see”, his hand reaches out to you, even though he is not looking in your direction. Dainself intertwines his fingers with yours and speaks, much quieter and softer words:

“I’m sorry for calling you a fool. That was uncalled for”, his hand gives you a light but worried squeeze. “Just… be careful, Y/N.”

Alhaitham 

“You’re acting like a child. Your opinions are too dreamy, irrational and irrelevant”, Alhaitham speaks briefly as he opens his book and hides his sharp gaze somewhere in the middle of the paragraphs.

Having acknowledged his disregard to you with pain in your heart you throw your arms around and ask him with bright feeling which is contradicting his own manner of speaking.

“Speak about irrelevance! You are the embodiment of irrationality yourself, for guilting me into thinking that you actually care for me.”

Alhaitham stays still for a moment but a tense squeeze he gives the book in his fingers raises even more contradictory emotions between you. 

“I knew you are a difficult person to get intimately acquainted with, but your actions proved that you had at least a bit of attraction towards me. If not, then your choice of words and manner of speaking to personally me was too extreme. If not, and you are dreaded by the mere thought of me being intimately honest with you, spit it out. I don’t want you to play the romance where it no really belongs. I don’t want you to like me out of pity.”

“But I don’t”, Alhaitham finally closes the book and removes from his seat. “Your opinions and decisions make me question whether or not we are compatible enough.”

“That is because you are thinking too rationally.”

“And you are thinking too irrationally.”

“You were the one to touch my hand and hug me in a very personal way. And if I am not mistaken, you are the man who never touches anyone and is dreaded by a mere thought of being pulled out from your serenity.”

Alhaitham then shivers slightly, his body mannerisms betraying distress and frustration that is not by a long shot defined in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry for calling you these words. These are bad words, I should not be disrespecting you so”, he looks away, giving his lip a strong bite whereas finally giving you a relief: “I always thought and I still think that you are a perfect companion for me, but our opinions are very unlike.”

“So you think two people cannot get accustomed to living with each other if they have different choice of words or thinking! Alhaitham, this is laughable.”

“The only laughable thing right now is that I desperately want to hug you”, without further hesitation he pulls you into his arms, an embrace filled with warmth and dedication, while his fingers gently stroke your back. “I apologise, my love.”

Baizhu

“You are being too nosy and impatient, sweetheart. I asked you to not ask me specifics of my contracts and yet here you are - interrogating me like some sort of criminal. I am feeling pressured and most frustrated!” He throws his arms around. “Darling, if you could give me some space, I would finish what I started with no further delay.”

“Am I violating your space by simply caring for your well-being? Baizhu, your contract has gone way too far; your help to people robs you of your own happiness, can you not see it?”

“I will be most contented if you simply leave me to finish my work. I would be happy if you simply encouraged me, but I’d be even more grateful if you stopped asking me so many questions.”

You know perfectly well what it’s like to sacrifice yourself for other people’s sake however you could not any longer bear seeing your love life being disrupted by Baizhu constantly feeling sick and suffering. You want nothing more than him to feel safe, secure and well, but instead this curious pharmacist only risks more and more his life in exchange of knowledge and improvement.

Though, Baizhu did recognise your words as a simple statement of care, he only admitted it in a few days. While you were helping him sort his things out in the pharmacy, Baizhu dropped his formal act and gently touched your hand.

“Darling?”

You stopped sorting at once when you heard what he declared:

“I’m sorry, I was so rude to you speaking about my health.”

You turn to face him and notice the sincerest apology in his snake eyes.

“I just wish you’d understand that my worry for you is not intended to make you uncomfortable or distressed.”

“I do understand it now. I will try my best to not bring you suffering from seeing me suffer. I cannot reject what I had started, but I will seek ways to heal both me and you from this torture.”

The gentle confession ends with Baizhu rubbing his thumb against the top of your hand. 

[shushmal]

The latest Family Video customer is barely through the door before Eddie explodes, "Ugh, Tyler."

Beside him, Steve scoffs in agreement, nose wrinkled with distaste. He's so hot. "Yeah, exactly, uugh."

"That should be his middle name. Ugh," Robin chimes in. Eddie's so glad they're in agreement about the bleach-spiked punk guy that graduated three years ago but is still bumming around Hawkins. "Steve, I can't believe you dated that guy."

Seriously, Tyler is the worst— Wait, what—?

"Wait," Eddie says, gaping at Robin. "What?"

"You could barely call it dating," Steve huffs.

"You were together for a month and a half," Robin says. She's got this evil grin on her face and is pointedly not looking at Eddie who is very desperate for Robin to look at him right now, please. "You drove that bum to Indy every weekend. He broke up with you on Valentine's day."

Eddie's weak "Tyler? Tyler Teaks?" gets completely ignored.

"I—" Steve says with haughty emphasis. "—broke up with him on Valentine's day. Don't get it twisted, Buckley."

Robin snorts and finally glances at Eddie. "Steve only broke up with him because the guy blew him off. On Valentine's Day. Which is basically getting broken up with," she tells him, and ignores it when Eddie whimpers at her.

"Yeah, but I'm the one to ended it!" Steve insits.

Eddie, finally, finds his voice, and says, "Tyler Teaks?! Harrington!"

"Ugh," Steve says, slumping against the counter. "I know." He cuts a glare over at Eddie after a moment. "I blame you for this."

"Me?!" Eddie shrieks, incredulous. He's pretty sure he's stepped into another parallel world. Perpendicular world? A world where Steve apparently dates guys—and guys like Tyler Teaks, no less. Eddie's sure he's gone completely batshit insane. "What the hell did I do?!"

Steve stands, cocking his hip the side, and looks down his handsome nose at Eddie. "You wouldn't be my New Year's kiss at Tina's party," he says. "So I had to settle for Tyler Teaks instead."

"What the fuck?" Eddie says, completely lost. "What—? You—? Tina—? KISS—?!"

Beside them, Robin is grinning, laughing, eyes going back and forth between them, munching on a stolen back of skittles—her own personal dramedy on stage before her.

"Yep," Steve says, popping the P. He looks distinctly bitter. "Pulled my best moves on you, and you turned me down."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. He reaches out, places both hands on Steve's shoulders, intent. The eye contact he forces Steve into is desperate. "I don't even remember getting to Tina's New Year's Party." He takes a deep breath. "I woke up in her mom's pantry the next morning with no shoes and no memory of how I got there."

Finally, Steve cracks, a big smile stretching his face. Robin cackles. "Yeah, I kind of figured as much," Steve sighs, wistful now. "You told me, and I quote, 'Steve Harrington, you are very beautiful and I want to have a summer wedding because you'd look beautiful-er with sunflowers'—"

"Don't forget the 'you look so hot in that sweater' part."

"—'But actually, I am a very straight man. So very super straight.' And then you crouched down on the floor and crawled away." Steve is biting his lip now to keep from laughing. Robin is not so nice. "Like I couldn't see you, and the handkerchief flagging in your pocket."

"Oh my god."

"Don't worry, it was really cute," Steve says, grinning. "But, I still needed a New Year's kiss, and unfortunately for everyone involved, Tyler was my only willing choice."

"Oh my god."

"Totally duped me though, he was super sweet the entire night," Steve sighs. His mouth is twisted into genuine regret now. "Plus, the next week, you acted like you'd never spoken to me before, so—"

"OH MY GOD."

Steve and Robin give him twin grimaces. Robin's is a lot more sympathetic. Steve's is confused. "Listen, man," Steve tries to soothe. "I'm sure that's pretty embarrassing, but it was a cute story! No hard feelings, I promise."

Robin's sympathetic grimace deepens.

"No," Eddie says, standing up straight. "I refuse. There is no way I turned down Steve Harrington for a New Year's kiss. There is no way."

"Wait—"

"Eddie, where—"

Eddie marches for the door, digging his keys out of his pockets. "Good-bye friends, I must go see a supergirl about time travel."

[satorusdiary]

dilf!toji being your ex bf

fluff & angst + making up + cuddling + toji not being able to resist you when you look so fragile + toji forever loving you

part 2! - back in love !

You sent 1:03 am

hey, r u awake?

toji places the cigarette back down on the ashtray, looking at his phone slightly shocked. it’s been months since you and him have had contact, the split up that has happened to your relationship has left a strain in his heart.

why did you text him at this hour? and most importantly, why aren’t you asleep? toji knows how well your sleep schedule usually was.

his friends look at him concerned, the look on toji’s face confusing them even more compared to when he stopped smoking repeatedly just a few seconds ago.

“fushiguro, you good?” satoru questions, patting his friends shoulder as he looks over at his friends phone. he wasn’t able to get a look at the message before toji pulls the phone into a direction that wasn’t able to be seen.

“yeah.. jus’ lemme call someone real quick.” before the rest of his friends could protest, toji is up and walking over to an empty room in the apartment. taking a seat on the bed.

Toji sent 1:09 am

thought i told you to lose my number

now that’s something he wouldn’t text you, he immediately starting regretting sending that message the second you immediately read the message.

you were his sweet little girl. the young woman who he swore he was gonna marry, the one he swore to have kids with.

things were different when he realized how much his life would have an impact on you if you stayed with him.

what’s good about a sweet girl who has a bright future getting with a older man selling illegal substances, that could send him to jail for years and years.

yeah not good at all.

toji knew what’s best for you, and if it meant him not being with you then it was worth it.

because he loved you, and would do physically anything in his power for you to have the best in life.

You sent 1:09 am

i know, i just need someone to talk to rn. i’m sorry

his heart weeps, you still want his comfort even after he has completely broke you, and your relationship with him.

he should be in jail for just breaking you in general.

toji sighs, not knowing how to reply. he wants to comfort you, yet he wants to push you away from his life. push you away from the trouble and the dangers that could happen to you.

he thinks you have given up until you text him 3 minutes later.

You sent 1:12 am

can i call you, please toji?

he couldnt deny it. he just couldnt. his love for you was simply unbreakable even if you weren’t together anymore.

his friends out in the living room are most likely concerned and worried for toji, but that’s the least of his problems. he needs to know if you’re okay, if you’re hurt.

‘incoming call from Toji’

he swears his heart skips a beat when the call goes through.

toji is not one to get nervous. especially with anything in general. but when it came to you, everything comes crashing down. when it comes to you, toji is willing to do anything for you, because you were his girl. his love.

“..hi” your voice is shaky, it seems you’re nervous as well. could he blame you though? this was the first time in months he has actually spoke to you.

“hey.” he replies, hoping you wouldn’t notice the weak tone in his voice as he spoke.

there’s a moment of silence, and soft breathing from your end before toji speaks up.

“are you ok? why’d you call me.”

it’s harsh, his tone is harsh. your eyes begin watering, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“i-i am just having trouble sleeping, that’s all. ‘wanted your company atleast to calm me down.” your tone has a small strain, as if you were crying for hours before you called him.

it was as if he was able to see your puffy eyes through the screen, he could just imagine it now.

“there’s something else, hm? c’mon tell me, y’know i won’t judge.” especially with you. is what he wanted to say as-well, but he couldn’t get to soft with you now. he couldn’t.

he hears a sniffle from your end, feeling his heart clench once more. as if his heart is dropping to the bottom of his stomach.

“okay.. t-truth is i usually sleep better with you ‘round. but since you’re gone, ‘ts been kinda rough. i just wanted to call you for once, to see if it would help..” you confessed, voice breaking down in between sentences.

toji has an urge to put you down, and hang up. but he couldn’t, how could he resist you? especially after everything he has put you through.

the bracelet on his wrist that has your initials come into his vision. you had made this for him when he was sick, he has never took it off ever since.

“y’want me to come over? not gonna make contact, jus’ gonna be there til you sleep.” he says calmly, he swore he could’ve heard you sigh in relief.

“mhmm, yes please..” you’re still polite, his sweet girl is still sweet around him. that’s what he misses with you.

“alright’ be there in 10. jus know i’m never doin this shit again, kay?” he says harshly, too harsh.

you sniffle again, he could tell your frowning and having tears drop on your phone screen. his heart strings get tugged, and he calms his weeping heart.

he’s hurt you once again.

the call ends before you could say anything else, and he’s out of the bedroom quickly taking his keys. his friends look at him concerned.

“yo, you good?” suguru comments, looking up at his friend who was ready to leave the apartment.

“where you going?” satoru also questions.

toji shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh as he turns to look at his of friends once again.

“gonna be gone for a bit, see ya tomorrow?” he waves them off, and goes out the door before they could reply, or ask anymore questions.

he knows he said he would be at your place by 10 minutes, but he ends up arriving in 5 minutes. quickly at your door step, knocking on the door gently.

just as he predicted, you open the door almost immediately.

when he looks at you, he swears he could break down then and there. on your door step.

your eyes are puffy, you’re wearing his hoodie that he “accidentally” left at your home, and there were dried tear stains on your puffy cheeks.

he wanted to kiss your cheeks badly, and cradle you in his arms. but he resisted.

thats before you crash into his arms, immediately breaking down. hugging him tightly as if he was going to disappear again.

toji breaks, he can’t handle the cold act around you any longer.

“y/n? what’s wrong baby? speak to me..” toji coo’s, his harsh tone disappeared. you automatically feel comfort from his nice tone, something you missed.

there he is, the sweet older boyfriend you have always missed. the man who was your home, your protector, your everything.

“‘missed you s’much toji. miss being with you and megumi, i-i can’t sleep without thinking about how i could’ve been better for you.” you stutter repeatedly.

it was no lie that megumi missed you as well. the boy who is only 3 years old can not go a night without asking where you were, if you were coming back to him without breaking down. because you made the little boy feel loved.

toji’s heart breaks, now he notices how selfish he has been. yes he was protecting you, but he also broke you so much. regret seeps into his body, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

“‘s not your fault sweets, you were more than enough for me. c’mon, let’s go to bed.” he murmurs, picking you up bridal style and walks towards your bedroom. the door behind him shutting closed.

the photo of you both happily together was still on your night stand, toji’s heart breaks for the millionth time in the past hour.

his side of the bed was cold, as if you never slept on it. that’s because it felt wrong sleeping on that side, knowing it once belonged to him.

you continue crying as you’re placed on the bed, still in toji arms. he’s careful with you, placing kisses on your face and rubbing your body to give you his heat.

“i-i miss you.. s’much.” you repeat, looking up at him for the first time with clear sight. tears drying back on your cheeks.

he gives you a sad smile and kisses both of your cheeks, sticky with tears.

“i miss you more sweetheart, missed my little girl s’much.. ‘l’ll explain everythin to you tomorrow, kay?” he questions, caressing your cold cheek.

the smile you give him is sad, but could easily melt the coldness in his heart.

after you nod he places a kiss on your lips, before pulling you closer, your head on his chest while is head is rested on top of yours.

the night goes by, and your soft snores fill the room. toji’s eyes are still glued onto the photo of you both, looking so happy, so dumb and in love.

he is gonna make that happen again, only for you. he’d figure out everything else soon, his priority was now you.

“i love you, missed you more than anything. baby.” he whispers quietly, placing one last kiss to your temple before drifting off to sleep.

for the first time in months he is able to sleep with no bad feelings, or any nightmares.

that is because you’re by his side, by his side to push away all the bad thoughts. by his side to make him feel loved again.

Jujutsu Kaisen masterlist

part 2 - back in love !

a/n: don’t mind typos pls, it’s like 3:47 am😭😭

[spotaus]

Ancha I mean this in literally every possible positive way, this is what I'm doing with this drabble rn (I love it dearly and mere words or keyboard smash cannot describe the way I am going feral over it)

Gifted drabble - New Age Au - The Eye of the Storm

Hey @spotaus !! I am back as I told you I would be because you gave me MORE brainworms! Remember us talking about the magic system? or me just yapping and rambling about it hahah.

And the thing you mentioned about how Geno would react to seeing Dust's storm? Yeah. Brainworms.

Either way. It can all still be changed as Spotaus and I discuss the magic system and how everything works.

So warning? ish? Deep intimacy by showing the soul. reference to past toxic relationship ship is DustedAfterDeath

This is them FAR beyond their toxic arc youall. They relationship is healthy and full of consent at this point :3

*---------------*

Dust frowns as he stares at the door.

It is fine.

It isn't that big of a deal.

Just get it over with.

Dust sighs as he rubs the soft cotton of his hoody. He is still in his casual wear for now. He had a few days off and he hardly ever wore his uniform on those days nowadays. Especially when Geno and Reaper visit.

He is still a bit unsure about this whole relationship between them. Dust wants to say he fully trusts them but... well... after...

It is hard.

Which is why Dust had decided to just make this jump. Fuck it. Show them the disgusting mess that is his soul and get it over with. They will see it. Be disgusted. Break off whatever this relationship is and be done with it.

Easy.

Dust takes another deep breath as he feels his storm around his soul rumble unhappily. He needs to remain calm. That will keep his storm calm enough to make it safe for them to look at it.

Dust does not want a repeat of the many times he zapped others with lightning. Even a tiny warning zap is stronger than a full blown lightning strike at this point. Dust frowns as he taps the doorknob. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all...

He may have enough control to form actual attacks but actually keeping it calm?

What if he hurts them? They will hate him...

Then again... if they see the mess that his soul is...

Or worse... Dust was right after all and Geno and Reaper just wanted to know how his storm works and it was all still fake. He was being blind again and falling for the exact same trick again.

Then again... they don't know how deeply connected to his soul it is. No one knows aside from Nightmare and his fellow Knights. They don't even speak about that out loud unless they are in a very secure room and know they are alone.

Even with all of Geno's past prodding and hinting Dust never told him that. Even if Dust knew that Geno wanted to know how he had such powerful magic. It was his secret. and Dust had been willing to take it to the grave with him...

Dust offered to show them his soul. Take the next step before they could move their relationship towards soulplay and other acts like it. They didn't know that they would find out the source of his magic...

Which brings him back to this exact point. Wouldn't it be better to just get it over with? If they really are still lying about everything... Wouldn't it be better to know it? To be able to let it go and move on?

Not that Dust thinks he can move on. If he could have he would have after the first mess that this relationship was.

But Dust is aparently an idiot because he is trying this again even if the chance it will hurt is much larger than the chance that this will be alright.

Okay that is not fair. They had been so much more honest about this whole relationship and Geno didn't even mention or ask about his magic since the mess that it had been. He also acutally paid attention to the few things Dust said now...

Then why did he still feel like a speciman? Like a project?

He doesn't like that... Feeling like that. It was why he was fine with being a crimelord before. Why he liked being a knight. No one looked at him with pity when he did either of those. Neither of those positions ever made people look at him like... like... some magical experiment...

His family had meant well... The mage who did this to save his life meant well... but it didn't change the way they looked at him... The worry he would just drop over and be gone. Then later the fear that the magic stabilizing him would just stop working... Then... Then the worry... after he started to cause damage.

Dust glares at the door. Fuck it. Either he is going to prove himself right that they really are still just after information and then he can finally bury these feelings and be done with it all. Or...

Or...

Dust shakes his skull as he pushes the hope down. Don't hope. That gets you hurt.

He knocks on the door and enters as soon as Reaper welcomes him in.

Reaper smiles brightly at him "Dust you are here already. How was your day off?"

Dust shrugs and mutters fine. He hadn't done that much today. Mostly spend time with the horses as he tried to not feel anxious about what he was about to do now.

Reaper keeps smiling "I am happy to hear this." He shoots his mate a look.

Geno looks terrible... mostly because he is obviously anxious and nervous, maybe even uncomfortable.

Dust huffs as he crosses his arms, feeling defensive "You can just say you aren't interested. It was just an idea." It had been Dust's idea after all.

Geno shakes his skull as he messes with soemthing in his lap. Some spell probably. Geno looks nervous "It isn't that i... don't want to... That isn't the issue... It is just... you never seemed comfortable with anything close to this... and then this?" he glances at Reaper.

Reaper picks up easily "Are you sure this is what you are comfortable with?"

Dust shrugs. He isn't. But it is best to get it over with. But the doubt either will like to hear that answer.

Reaper looks fond at him, it makes Dust's soul do this weird little flip thing it is unfair Reaper looks at him like that, "Can you please explain Dust? We wish to understand."

That is something that had surprised Dust. How much they want him to talk or tell them how he feels. Dust finds it unfair. Before Geno didn't even bother to listen to the few things Dust did talk about and now he pays attention? It is just so different. Dust isn't sure how to feel about it. It is nice but it also means he has to explain things he can't quite explain.

Dust searches for the right words "I want... you two to see... it." it. That is the best way to explain the storm.

Geno looks bothered as he loosk up "Why call your soul it?"

Dust shakes his skull. It isn't normal. It isn't healthy... This is dumb. They will both just be disgusted and then this little nice thing will be ruined forever.

Dust shrugs "It is hard to explain..." he decides to echo some words back "Open communication and honesty or something... Soul is not the... healthiest." there.

Reaper looks super worried as Geno looks slightly more horrified. Ugh. Yeah. that is what Dust figured. He tugs on his hood to enable himself to hide more. He wishes he still had his mask.

Reaper shakes his skull "No no love. Nothing against you... But is it safe for you then? To even summon and show your soul?" he looks worried. Geno keeps his mouth shut but he shoots both Dust and Reaper looks.

It is now or never.

Dust sighs as he takes a seat on the bed and shoots them both a look "Well?" and he waits. His hands feels the soft silky sheets on the bed. It calms him. The bed feels like the bed in his own room. Even though he prefers his cotten and woolen stuff. He keeps rubbing the sheets with his fingers as his two boyfriends take their own seats.

Both wait and share a look.

Geno grins a bit "Want me to show my soul first?"

Dust shakes his soul. He does not need to see a healthy soul before he shows his mangled one. Dust will just lose the nerve. Geno looks bothered but doesn't offer again.

Dsut takes another deep breath. Tugs his scarf higher and his hood closer around his skull before slowly tugging at this very core.

And there it is.

Dust always thought it was like a cloud. Just in a weird soul shape all around his actual soul. The tiny malnourished one that never was able to grow fully. The magic and his actual soul work well and seem to connect with tiny bolts of lightning. Dust doesn't even feel it anymore. So used to the constant zapping emitted to his very being... The zaps outwards obviously at much more harmful. as Dust can channel those into actual attacks.

He is not looking at either of them as he waits. Just because he is willing to hear it doesnt mean he wants to see the disgust and horror on their faces...

"It is beautiful..." Geno whispers and Dust can't help but snap up slightly to check. Geno is just staring with open awe at the mess that is his core. Geno doesn't even seem to notice it as he slowly reaches a hand out.

Dust moves the cloud away "Don't touch it!" he stresses it.

Geno blinks and looks confused before seeing his hand "oh shit! sorry. I didn't... i wasn't thinking... I swear i didn't... i wouldnt!" he looks anxious as he holds both arms behind his back.

Dust frowns as hekeeps looking at Geno "I mean it... I can't exactly... control it... It will zap you full force... I already fried Cross once and that was a non-lethal hit... I don't think it will like it if you get that close..."

Geno frowns but Reaper is the one who speaks "It? Why do you refer to the magic as an it?" He seems curious as he looks at the soul and spell. Seemingly enchanted.

Dust frowns as he looks at it "I... well... I tend to just call it my storm... as that is pretty much it..."

Geno seems nervous "I euh... Just so you know you can just tell me to stuff it... But... euh... why is there a very complex spell around your soul?" He looks at Dust and waits.

Dust frowns at him. He knows their question would come. It was to be expected. He looks at the spell and settles on telling the truth "It is my life support system."

Reaper jumps upright "What?" he glances at Geno "Is that normal?"

Geno looks horrified "No? Magic is too... unstable and unpredictable? Which mage... who would... why?" he sputters and seems shocked.

Dust feels more uncertain as he ducks his skull more into his scarf. It isn't that he is surprised but it still hurts... why does it still hurt so much? He knew this was going to happen.

He holds his storm closer as the rumbling in it intensifies with his own shaking emotions. This was a mistake. He recalls both and the soul and storm disappear.

That seems to snap Reaper and Geno out of their slight moment or horror and panic as they shoot him glances.

Geno inhales sharply as he reaches out "Wait! Sorry. Fuck I am sorry. I didn't mean anything negative i swear! I just don't understand. It is fine! It looked beautiful!" He smiles.

Dsut shrugs and mutters "It is fine... it is disgusting... i know..." He wants to leave. He wants to go to his room and cry a bunch... he tugs his scarf higher as he pushes back into his hood. He wants his mask. He wants to hide.

Geno shakes his skull "No. It really is gorgeous i swear! Like a geode!"

That causes him to pause and shoot Geno an disbelieving look "A geode?" the absolute absurb nature of that has to be commented on. A geode?!

Geno nods "Of course it does it is so obvious."

Dsut just raises a brow at him "Really?"

Geno nods with a stubborn tilt "summon it again! I will point it out." he holds up his hands "No touching! Just pointing."

Dust frowns but slowly brings the mess out again.

Geno grins as he scoots a bit closer before beginning to talk "Okay. It is really cool and pretty. Your soul itself is obviously the very center. Everything around it is like the geode itself protecting your soul. The crystalized minerals just barely touching your soul and that makes the colouring probably! The little crystals are all slightly differently forming and shaping and growing. Reforming new connections and growths." Geno points and motions towards the cloud nearest his soul "Around that sits the metaphorical layer of stone protecting it!" when he speaks about that he motions towards the very outer layer of his cloud.

Dust rolls his eye lights "How do you explain the zaps of electricity going outwards?" Like his storm knows waht he wants it makes a tiny zap.

Instead of looking confused Geno just gasps and stares "Holy that is beautiful... It is like... the start of anew crystal growing! It is so beautiful."

Reaper looks curiously at Dust "how do you see it?"

Dust looks to the side "You know... a storm cloud? obviously?" because it is? At least Dust thought that.

Reaper hums as he looks at it curiously "I can see both... though I think it looks more like..." and he stops.

Geno looks curiously at Reaper "what do you see?"

Reaper looks slightly embarrassed "Lets keep it at a gem and a beautiful cloud... that is much more romantic." and he smiles.

Dust tilts his skull "Come on. Tell."

Reaper sighs but stares at the soul and cloud around it with a gentle smile "It is... Sea urchin."

Geno snorts as Dust blinks confused. He had heard of those animals before but never actually seen one.

Reaper chuckles "Yes yes love. laugh it up." he looks amused.

Dust shoots him a look before looking at his soul and storm "why?"

Reaper hums and speaks slowly "Well... it is like a protective shell isn't it? Your soul is safely tugged away within the center. Where it is safe and protected by the larger shell around it." he motions towards the cloud before motioning towards the everlasting zaps "And the spines to protect the treasure that lays hidden."

Dust frowns at his soul. He never... He never thought about his soul as either of those things... His soul was just the mangled thing... while his storm was the thing powering him and keeping him whole.

Not the center of a crystal cluster thing... Not something that had a shield and spikes to protect it...

Geno scoots over and looks curiously "Why... why is that magic there? if you are okay with me knowing... It is okay if you are not..."

Dust frowns "I told you... life support..."

Reaper sits nearby "How came it to be like that?"

Dust shrugs as he messes with the magic around his soul. It doesn't harm him in the least "I wasn't exactly... healthy... When i was younger. Never was. Had no energy. Hardly any magic. I am pretty sure the doctors told my folks i wasn't even meant to survive for longer than a year... but I managed... until i was suposed to start puberty."

Geno frowns as he nods "It is when our magic and souls start to truly develop."

Dust nods "I don't.. I don't know exactly what was wrong. They never told me in details. I just know that suddenly it burned and hurt... turns out the magic that was starting to develop was kinda... burning my soul out. My soul was too weak to keep up wiht the growth it needed to help support me." He frowns "I remember many doctors and mages." them all prodding him and mentioning how it was a miracle he had even been alive as he had been. More interested in learning how his magic burned himself than anything. He thinks some of them even asked his parents if he could be a study case. "One of them had an idea... a complex web of spells to help center the magic or something and to use it to power my soul... That was at least how it was explained to me after i started to feel better."

Geno shoots upright "Wait! They didn't ask you?!"

Dust snorts "What could you expect? I was hardly awake as it was... Not like I could have given my agreement..." he shrugs "It saved my life..."

Reaper gently takes his hand and kisses it slowly. Dust can see how slow Reaper moves. Probably making sure his own magic doesn't react badly. "It is your soul love... Even if it saved your life it should still have been your choice. As it is your right."

Geno messes with his own hands "That is why... You didn't want to talk about your magic... it isn't a spell that is even meant to attack... It is your soul's whole support system... I am so sorry...." he looks away. ashamed "I know i apologised... before for pushing and everything... I am so sorry I was..." he laughs as he looks down shocked "Pretty much trying to force you to talk about your soul and show it to me? what the hell was wrong with me?"

Dust shrugs "You didn't know..." he tugs his soul back into his actual body and breaths a sigh of relieve.

Reaper frowns at him "Are you okay?"

Dust shrugs "I am fine... Just tired..." He gives a tired grin "It isn't just my suport system for my soul... My soul can't exactly make the magic and energy i need. It barely makes enough for my soul itself."

Geno stares in shock "Everythign... the spell pwoers everything about you? How..." he freezes and stops "Wait. Sorry. It isn't... it is interesting but you don't need to... I mean yes i want to know but." he glares down frustrated.

Reaper still holds his hand as he rubs the back of Dust's hand "I think what Geno means to ask is... How is it possible? How is the spell still there? In my experience spells don't last long. I know my magic is about momental protection. Not a constant force."

Dust looks at them for a moment. They don't... they don't stare at him like those mages and doctors. there is worry. but they also keep holding him. keep being near. They aren't afraid of him...

Dust figures if they haven't pulled away in disgust yet... All he risks now is his trust being betrayed which wouldn't be the first time.

Dust rubs his neck "From what i udnerstand... The weather powers it. Natural rain, hail, wind... actually everything connected to storms power it..."

Geno blinks in awe "Your storm... That is why you call it your storm and a cloud... because it is... wow..." he jsut continues to stare with open awe "It is powered by an outside constant force... adn that powers you..." he frowns "Should you be throwing lightning around then?"

Dust looks around confused "euh?"

Geno gives him a bit of a glare "I mean it. Is it even healthy for you to be throwing lightning around? Waht if you run out." more anxious and stress on his face.

Dust nods "It is fine... I before couldn't even pick when it happened. it just happened. At most i give it a target." he grins a tiny bit "there is a reason that Killer calls the spell i use 'fuck you lightning'... I don't exactly got a lot of other spells..."

Reaper chuckles and nuzzles Geno "Calm down love. trust him. He knows himself and his magic best. If he thinks it is fine it is fine."

Geno shoots Reaper a look but takes adeep rbeath and nods "right... right... sorry... i just... don't like how unpredictable it is. How will we know it will keep you safe and healthy if we aren't sure it will manage itself? That it will stop you from shooting to much lightning?" he rubs his hands "I also used to overuse my own magic. As magic rarely gives you a warning you are running out until you are almost completely out."

Dust just listens to the other. He... he isn't even asking about how he can control or replicate it. How he can use it. All geno is worried about is it somehow getting unbalanced...

The fear slowly disappears...

Which is when his body decides to make it very obvious it does not appreciate Dust removing his storm from his body. He yawns and feels his socket becoe heavier. Yeah. he expected as much.

Geno looks panicked as Reaper rubs his back "Are you alright?"

Dust shrugs as he rubs the sleep from his sockets "I am fine. Body doesn't appreciate me removing my soul for a long time. Just need to give it time to settle and calm down."

Reaper hums as he pulls Dust slowly against him "You can rest. thank you for trusting us with this love." a soft kiss to his skull as Dust lounges against Reaper. Reaper's clothes are always warm and brimmed with magic. reinforced to make sure Reaper's deadly magic doesn't get through if he is stressed. It makes for a very soft living pillow.

Geno meanwhile is muttering about maybe making a tiny sensor. Just to give Dust a warning signal in case his magic levels get dangerously low. Just as an extra warning and protection for him. Reaper chastises Geno gently but Dust isn't paying much attention.

He is exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. But it was worth it. Maybe he didn't have to be worried after all.

[cupcakedieabetes]

DPXDC PROMPT: DEMON TWINS, BUT DANYAL NEVER REVIVED

Imagine Danyal never getting revived by the Pits after he had to battle Damian to the death. Ra's instantly destroys the body at the last breath that Danyal takes because he knows that his daughter will have a moment of weakness and he wasn't willing to let a weak one live. I'd like to put them around the ages of 5-6 ish.

Damian thought it was normal, and treated everything as fine because it was always expected of him. His twin was the weaker one after all. All emotional and soft despite the training. He has never called his brother "Akhi" bc he was weak and refused to acknowledge him as a brother

Meanwhile, Talia was grieving her son. Danyal who was just like his father where the people in League would call weak because he was reluctant to kill and was very soft at heart. That's when she made plans to remove her only remaining child from the League and overtake her father.

So Damian was sent off to his father.

Now, Danyal Al Ghul has been reincarnated into Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. He was born and raised in the Fenton's family and has no idea about his past life.

Now, I kind of want Danny to get turned into a ghost at a younger age. Maybe age 10 so Damian would be 16, so there would be an age gap of 5-6 years.

Damian has lived with the Waynes for years now. When he was younger, he didn’t and had never regretted killing his brother. After all, was it a surprise that the moment he entered the Manor, he tried killing Tim? He had already killed one brother, more over his own blood, so what is another, if not an inferior one due to having no relation to him at all?

But now, he regrets it so much. But it's been years, and he barely even remembers Danyal's face. He didn’t tell his family bc he didn't want them to grieve over a family that was long dead. That was practically destroyed the moment he died, so there was nothing left of him. He has no memories of his brother either, only his name, so how could he offer comfort to the other bats when he couldn’t even tell some stories about him either?

The bats are now tied up by a cult, and Damian was in the center of the sacrificial circle.

The cult was summoning someone of Damian's deceased family or something like plot convenience for a summoning. To use them to fight against the bats bc how sad it would be bc they would have to fight against a dead family member that was controlled by them. Damian was struggling bc it could be anyone from the League.

Then, to his horror, it was his brother who was summoned. He was suspended in the air in a fetal position asleep, but he appeared transparent with a tail.

"Danyal" He said, horrified. He appeared older for some reason, but the instant he was summoned, he knew it was him.

Batman, who was trying to reach for Damian, stared at the sleeping ghost. He appeared similar to Damian and his mind did the mental math. He didn’t know exactly when did the ghost died, but judging by his age, he looked to be about the age Damian came to the Manor. And judging by how anguished Damian looked, he came to the right conclusion that the ghost was Damian's brother, his son.

He mourned. This was simultaneously the oldest and the youngest he would have ever seen.

That is also what the rest of the bat thinks and comes to the conclusion of. They broke out of their restrains due to fury and stuff, and the circle is erased, the ghost gone before they had a chance to use him against them.

Meanwhile, (pre-Ghost King maybe) Danny just jolted in bed, confused about what happened bc he had a feeling he turned into a ghost. But he shrugged it off and went back to sleep.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Teaching Him A Lesson (Lucifer x Reader) (Cucked Alastor x reader)

CW: Drunk sex, Dub con due to drinking, cream pie, breakup rebound sex, noncon cucking, fem receiving oral, bondage for Alastor Rated: Adult Summary: After being dumped by Alastor, you soothe your heart at the hotel bar. Lucifer is more than willing to listen to your sorrows and even indulge you when you take Angel Dust's advice of fucking your way over Alastor. Unfortunately, when Alastor sees you slip into your room with someone else, he regrets his choice and Lucifer decides to teach him a lesson.

AN: We finished it! It's a week and a half late but we fuckin finished it!! Thank you everyone who's cheered me on as I've explored characters, pairings, kinks and situations I would otherwise never have written and stay tuned for what @redvexillum and I have planned for December!

Lucifer prided himself on being the bigger man, even when he wasn’t. He was weak to temptation, in reality, though he wasn’t fond of admitting it. That’s how he became the king of Hell, banished from his heavenly home for daring to think he knew better than his divine father. 

It was that same weakness to temptation that had him following you through the halls, hand tucked into his after spending a few hours and too many drinks listening to your sorrows at the hotel bar. Your hair moved with your eager pace, tear-stained face smiling back at him as you pulled him along. 

This wasn’t right. Lucifer knew that, but he had always had a soft spot for you and oh, you were so eager. 

Your heart lay shattered in your chest. What did you expect, falling for the Radio Demon? The two of you had given it a good run, all things considered. That was more than most people could ever dare to hope to get with him. For a short year, you had stood by his side and, oh, how you had loved it. 

You thought he loved you. 

That’s why it had come as such a surprise when he had sat you down and told you he was done, that it was over this morning. You were a distraction. The benefits you brought to his life weren’t worth the weakness you created. He didn’t want you anymore. 

Cast aside. 

It hurt and you begged. It did no good, though. 

Angel Dust was sure what you needed to move on was a good fuck. Maybe he was right? Probably not, it had only been a few hours, but the more drinks you had, the better of an idea it sounded. 

Who better than the King of Hell to fuck away the memory of Alastor’s touch? Lucifer had been so kind too, listening to you ramble and cry. He didn’t get on well with your ex, but that didn’t seem to impact his kindness at all. 

“This is my old room,” you said, stopping in front of a door you hadn’t opened in six months. 

“Are you going to open it?” Lucifer asked, hand still held in yours. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s-” 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You asked, reaching behind you and turning the knob, letting the door click open. 

Red eyes shrouded in shadows watched from the end of the hall as Lucifer enveloped you in his arms. Anger rolled through the static that surrounded him as he watched your body melt in the King’s, lips moving against his. 

Until this morning, you had allowed Alastor to hold you like that. Until this morning, you allowed Alastor to slip his tongue between your parted lips, drinking up the sweet sounds of your pleasure.

Alastor had been at peace with his decision when you ran from your shared bedroom this morning. He had been at peace with it as he watched you drink your sorrows away. There was hardly more than a twinge of jealousy as you sat with Lucifer at the bar. 

But now, as Lucifer walked you into what had been your bedroom. 

Warm lips moved against yours, soft and longing as Lucifer’s kiss stole your breath away. Your mind swam, wrapped up in the idea of him and floating on a sea of apple-flavored drinks. 

His arms wrapped around you as he walked you into the room you had thought you would never be in again. His body was hard against yours as he struggled between wanting to hold you and let his coat fall down to the ground, urged off his shoulders by your hands. 

Nimble fingers worked at the buttons of his vest, working it open one button at a time as he kissed your neck. Soft sweet words were whispered, unclear and unable to be made out as they mixed into one soft sound spoken against your neck. 

Lucifer pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the side as you worked through the buttons of his shirt. His hands replaced yours, yanking at the fabric. Buttons went flying, ripped from the stitching. 

Hot skin was against skin in a matter of moments. Lucifer’s warm chest pressed into you. The warm skin of his chest pressed your breasts flat. There was an eagerness to feel you that you hadn’t realized you missed. 

When had Alastor last held you like this? Kissed you like this? It wasn’t that intimacy was lacking with him; it was just that he was sparing with it. There was a passion and need to Lucifer’s hands, unclasping your bra and sending it flying off into the room that you had missed. 

It felt good to feel wanted. It made you feel powerful to have a man wanting you, eager for you. There was no taking your time. He wasn’t taking his time with you. The way Lucifer’s hands moved over your curves, it felt like he would die if he couldn’t take in the feeling of your skin enough. 

“I want you,” Lucifer said, lips working over the swell of your breast as the backs of your knees hit the bed you hadn’t slept in in months. 

“I need you,” you moaned as Lucifer worked the fly of your pants open, sinking to his knees as he worked the pants down your legs. 

It was fine, Alastor told himself as the door clicked closed. This was what he had wanted, you to no longer be a distraction. Yet as he paced the hall, Alastor had found himself to be even more distracted. 

You were not supposed to move on so quick. He devastated you this morning. You shouldn’t have been taking another man to your bed the same night. There was something wrong. 

Lucifer had to be influencing you. 

Alastor needed to stop this. You belonged to him. 

“Troublesome woman,” Alastor said, walking to the door. The shadow moving along the wall next to him wore a bitter frown, anger clear in the spikes of his hair and clothes over the situation you had put them in. 

Lucifer knelt in front of your knees as you lounged back on the bed, hands supporting your weight as you lifted your hips for him. He peeled your soaked panties from your core as the door to your room opened. 

“Get away from her!” Alastor stormed into the room as if it was his. 

“Alastor!” You sat up, arms crossing to cover yourself. “Get out of here.” 

“You belong to me,” His voice rose as Alastor stepped closer, “Stop this nonsense and we’ll talk.” 

“She doesn’t,” Lucifer said, still kneeling with his cock straining against the front of his pants. “You left her.” 

“Leave, Alastor.” Your voice was thick with emotion, anger and sadness fighting for dominance. 

“You do not need a half sized king to satisfy you,” Alastor continued telling you what to do, what you needed. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

“Angel, look at me?” Your eyes flickered down to Lucifer, thumbs rubbing soothing circlers of comfort on your thighs. “Do you want this still?” 

“I do,” you sounded less sure than he would have liked but that’s alright, Lucifer would work with it. 

“Then ignore him, pay attention to me.” Lucifer ignored Alastor, who was putting off waves of radio static behind him. 

“Get your hands off her,” Alastor snarled as your panties went lower and lower down your legs. He couldn’t see the core that rightfully belonged to him. Lucifer’s body was blocking his view. “I will rip you limb from fucking limb.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Lucifer said, licking his lips as he leaned in, kissing your thighs as he spread your legs wider. “Shall we help Alastor learn his place?” 

“What do you mean?” You trembled, struggling to hold your arms over your chest and not fall back as Lucifer’s tongue made a quick pass up your spread folds. 

“I mean, let me show him how powerless he is.” Lucifer placed a soft kiss on your clit. “Let me show him how well I can satisfy you.” 

“Oh,” your eyes flicked to Alastor, standing frozen in place with his smile straining. 

“Look at me.” Lucifer’s lips moved against your clit as he spoke. “Pay attention to me. Don’t worry about him.” 

Between the drinks still humming through your bloodstream and the allure of Lucifer, you failed to see the shimmering of golden chains wrapping around Alastor and rooting him in place. The way Lucifer wrapped his lips around your clit distracting you from Alastor’s struggles against the chains, or the way his voice seemed to be muffled by the air. 

“Oh, my.” Your back arched, arms falling from your breasts as the wet muscle of Lucifer’s tongue worked into you. 

He wasted no time in playing your body like an instrument. Fingers pressed inside your weeping core, sinking deeper and deeper as he pulled waves of pleasure from you. Lucifer was skilled with both his tongue and his hands, driving you closer to the edge with little effort at all. 

Your breasts were shamelessly on display as you gasped for air. Alastor pulled against the chains, bitter threats failing to travel far in the thick air of the room. He watched as your breasts rose and fell with each gasping breath. 

He watched as your body grew tighter and tighter. He knew your body like the back of his hand. You were close. 

Alastor had no choice but to watch as your first orgasm washed over you. Each moan was music to his ears, but he should have been the musician. 

Lucifer drank you your slick, eagerly taking in everything you had to offer as your body wracked through the waves of pleasure. Only once you stilled did he rise, tongue running over his lips as he freed his cock. 

You were spread out, shameless now as Lucifer looked over his shoulder. He made bold eye contact with the man restrained in the back of the room. The positioning wasn’t the best, he decided. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alastor snapped as chains pulled him around the room, letting him see the couple from the side. 

“Making sure you have the best seat in the house,” Lucifer said, stroking his cock as your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. If he waited much longer, the drinks and soft afterglow of your orgasm would have you asleep before he had really taught Alastor a lesson. 

“Stop me if you can,” he said, chuckling as he turned his attention back to you. “Ready baby?” 

“Please,” you spread your thighs for him, showing him your needy core and begging him to fill it. 

“Let’s show him how it’s done.” Lucifer pulled you to the edge of the bed by your thighs. Your ass hung slightly over now, supported by his clawed hands. The soft head of his cock lined up with your opening.

Alastor couldn’t look away as the King of Hell sank his cock slowly into the woman he realized he loved. You were so hurt that you’d let Lucifer use you for his petty game just to hurt him back. 

Chains dug into his body as he thrashed and fought, struggling for even a centimeter of progress toward the man he wanted to rip apart. He would bath himself and you in the man’s golden blood, then remind you who you really belonged to. 

“I just need to,” each word was a struggle to grind out against the tightening hold of the chains, “Get free.” 

He couldn’t. There was nothing Alastor could do against the power of Lucifer himself. All he could do was watch as another man’s cock slowly pushed inside the body that belonged to him. 

Alastor stilled, watching as your mouth fell open as the king filled you. Your fingers bunched into the bedding, dust floating up from where the fabric pulled. 

Lucifer pushed into you until his body nestled tightly against you. Each aftershock of your orgasm caressed his straining cock, urging him to hurry. For a moment, he simply bathed in the feeling of being inside a beautiful partner once again, after so many years without his wife. 

Ex wife. 

“Pay attention now,” Lucifer said, pulling out from you only to slide back into place. “And I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

Your body rocked with each thrust into you. Your breasts bounced and moved, nipples putting on a dance for just the three of you as he worked into you. The pace was slow and steady, giving and taking pleasure with each lazy thrust. 

“More,” you begged, reaching out for Lucifer. Fingers wrapped around his wrists as you struggled to meet his thrusts in the position. “Harder,” 

“Already?” Lucifer asked, chucking at the needy whine. “You’re so responsive and he sent you away?” 

“Please,” you begged, “Please, just fuck me.” 

“He really is missing out,” Lucifer said, pulling from your body. The cold air rushed around his wet cock as he motioned for you to roll over. “Hands and knees.” 

Alastor protested, voice a muffled buzz in your ears as the man you had loved for the last year was pulled in front of you. Your eyes ran up his red clad body, taking in the way his cock strained against his pants. 

The bed shifted as Lucifer climbed up on it, positioning himself behind you. You looked into Alastor’s eyes as Lucifer’s cock sank into you. 

The pace was as you had begged for, harder and faster. He gave you more and more, high moans falling from your lips serving to encourage him.

“Good girl,” Lucifer said, pulling your torso up to rest against his chest. The long, whip-like tail that extended out behind the devil wrapped around your thighs. The spade tip caressed your clit as he continued to thrust up into you. 

Alastor’s hand fell to his crotch, palm absently caressing the bulge even as he spewed words of anger. 

Lucifer palmed your breast as his horns extended up. Red and yellow eyes inverted, burning over your shoulder as he gave you the harsh fucking you had been begging for. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he pushed you closer and closer to your finish. The coil within you was quickly winding, tightening as the breath was knocked from your lungs with every brutal thrust in a moan that made him want to hear it again and again. 

You screamed as you came, the spade of your lover’s tail slapping your clit softly as you shook in his arms. The men in the room with you would never agree on if the name you screamed was the correct one, but that didn’t matter to you now. All that mattered was the way Lucifer’s cock felt pushing through your quivering walls.

As your body grew weak, he let you fall to the bed. Folding himself over you, Lucifer pounded into you as he chased his own release. It didn’t take long at all for him to shoot hot ropes of semen into you, painting your twitching walls with everything he had. The throbbing feeling of his release had you moaning again, slitted eyes on Alastor while you rode the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

You hated him. 

You loved him. 

Tears ran from your cheeks as the King of Hell’s cock twitched inside you, shooting the last spurts of his seed against your cervix. You struggled to breathe as a sea of emotions crashed over the shores of your heart. 

Your spent body sank into the mattress as Lucifer carefully lowered your hips down. The alcohol and post orgasmic bliss called to you, telling you stories of how you could deal with the aftermath of your actions in the morning. 

It would all be easier in the morning. It would all make sense in the morning. 

In the morning. 

You slipped off to sleep, Lucifer’s hand still on your hip as darkness claimed your relaxed mind. 

Lucifer walked, cock still in the process of softening and standing in front of him, to get a warm towel to run over sore skin. He had to compromise the quality of his clean up in favor of not waking you. 

Alastor screamed, voice unable to reach your ears as Lucifer scooped you up in his arms and nestled you into the bed. It was the wrong bed. You shouldn’t be sleeping in this bed. 

With a snap, the King was dressed again.

“Come along,” Lucifer said, pulling Alastor out of the room and down the hall by chains. 

“I will make you pay for this,” Alastor roared, voice hardly carrying down the dark hall. The surrounding chains slacked, but still prevented him from moving freely. 

“I won’t,” Lucifer said easily, eyes making a point of running down Alastor’s body, taking in the dark patch blooming at the end of the bulge in his lap. “But I do hope you’ve learned your lesson.” 

“Who are you to teach me-” Lucifer cut him off.

“Do not throw away people who love you,” Lucifer spoke simply, voice thick with emotion as he caught sight of the wedding ring he still wore on his finger. “And don’t put the people you love last. You never know when they’ll walk away and not come back.” 

“You know this from experience, your highness?” Alastor’s tone was mocking, a shallow attempt to make up for his lack of ability to generate volume at the moment. 

“I do,” Lucifer said simply. “Maybe you can fix things with her in the morning, if you want to. If you don’t, let her go.” 

Alastor stood, frozen in place even as the chains around him disappeared, watching Lucifer walk down the hall. His shadow split from him as he turned toward his door. As he entered his room, the part of him that expressed emotion far easier entered your room. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[fastandcarlos]

My Worst Nightmare : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

Your eyes went wide as you watched it all unfold.

Your heart beat faster than it ever had done before.

The feeling of your hand gripping his arm made Max jump beside you as you watched Lando’s front wheel clip against the front wheel of Charles. As soon as the incident happened you saw an aggression in Lando that you had never seen before, biting your bottom lip as he edges closer and closer to Charles’ car, almost inviting himself to get into some sort of incident against the other driver.

“What’s he playing at?” Max hissed next to you, eyes rolling at what he was seeing from his best friend.

“It’s like he wants to go crashing into the barriers,” you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief.

You could picture Lando getting frustrated in his car, eyes rolling, mouth tutting.

But he was the reason that he almost crashed out of the race. The only person responsible for any potential accident was Lando. The man who promised you every single race that he’d drive safe and that things would be okay.

Max’s eyes stay on you for a few moments as you carry on watching the race. He knows you worry and fret, but he could see frustration in you too. Frustration that your boyfriend was willing to crash so dangerously just because his front wheel got clipped, something you’d seen happen so easily in races plenty of times.

You hoped that would be enough to make him stop.

Lando kept on pushing though, every opportunity he tested the water, keen to try and scrape through whenever even a millimetre presented itself. You struggled to watch after a while, terrified that you’d ultimately end up watching your boyfriend get seriously hurt.

You’d never felt so relieved when the race was finished, watching Lando drive back into the garage in fifth. When he climbed out the car he expected to see you ready to enter his open arms, but instead you remained rather standoffish with him, shooting him a glare.

“Well done,” you told him, your face flat, taking him by surprise.

“Try and be happy for me, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you coldly sighed, “can’t help it.”

Lando walks across and presses a kiss against your cheek before being pulled back to get weighed. He wanted to play dumb, but Lando knew just from the tone of your voice why you were upset with him, and truthfully, he understood why.

He kept looking at you as he finished off race proceedings, hoping for something from you. A couple of times you offered him a weak smile, but other than that you remained with Max, struggling to listen to Lando try and make excuses in the media pen for his erratic driving. Eventually Lando headed off to grab his things, leaving you and Max alone.

Max poked your side to get your attention, “try not to be too hard on him tonight.”

“But he was being stupid Max.”

“I know, but I can tell he regrets it.”

A sign came from you, “what was he thinking?”

“Probably just adrenaline,” Max tried to defend, “maybe he saw something there that we missed.”

The ride home was pretty silent between the two of you, Lando tried to make small talk but you were still unimpressed. You headed back to your hotel room, Lando following just behind to give you enough space. As soon as the door shut and you were all alone, he finally cleared his throat.

He waited for you to sit down, throwing himself down beside you before you could protest.

“You might as well say what you want to say.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Lando chuckled, “I already knew that.”

You shot a glare across at him.

Lando’s attempts to lighten the mood fell flat as you silently scolded him. The tight corners and near misses were part of the job, but what happened today took all of that to the extreme.

“I wasn’t going to crash,” Lando told you, reading your mind and figuring what you were thinking.

“How do you know that?”

“We’re professionals,” he reminded you.

Your eyes rolled as he tried to brush off what you were saying, trying his best to reassure you in his own Lando way.

After a few moments Lando shuffled across the sofa, resting his hand against your thigh. “Maybe things were a little too close for comfort today.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” you hummed, “being a pro doesn’t mean being stupid.”

“I’m sorry if I made you worry about me.”

“I thought you were going to crash,” you sighed.

“I didn’t though.”

“My point is though, you could have,” you reminded him, keeping your voice firm. “That would be my worst nightmare Lando.”

Your admission took him by surprise, his eyes soften as he looks at you. The hand that was on your thigh moved to intertwine in with your own, Lando moved even closer towards you, nudging against your side. He could hear the hurt in your voice, terrified that your worst nightmare would end up coming true.

Lando squeezes gently against your hand, whispering your name. “Perhaps I let my frustrations get the better of me today, I should’ve been more careful and not risked anything dangerous happening.”

“I don’t ever want a repeat of Vegas Lan.”

“Me too, I don’t ever set out to do anything like that,” he assured you.

You nodded in reply to him. “I don’t know what I’d do if something ever did happen.”

“Hey, let’s not think about that.”

You went to speak but your voice faltered as Lando pulled you into his side. Luckily for you, Lando knew exactly what you were trying to say to him.

“I promise that I won’t do it again,” he whispered.

A smile of relief appears on Lando’s face as the corners of your mouth slowly turn up into a smile of your own. “I hate you for scaring me like that today,” you jokingly told him.

Lando’s head shook as you hit against his chest, trying your best to sound serious through the few giggles that escaped.

“You love me really,” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss against the side of your head.

You hummed back at him, “I do, that’s why I’d hate to ever see you get hurt.”

Lando cups against the side of your face, bringing you towards him for a gentle kiss as if to remind you one more time, he really was alright.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[gojonanami]

MEANT TO BE ✴︎ SUGURU GETO

✴︎ summary: when Suguru defects, he asks you to come with him -- but he's not going to take no for an answer. ✴︎ cw: 18+, dead dove, do not eat, smut, dub/con, degradation (use of "monkeys"), kidnapping, hostage, yandere(?)! geto, mentions of violence (no graphic descriptions), fingering, (afab!receiving), oral (afab!receiving), reader is a follow sorcerer at jujutsu tech. ✴︎ wc: 6,046

“Come with me,” when those words left Geto’s mouth, you knew he had truly lost his mind. 

“Come with you?” You repeat, as you turn slowly from your kitchen sink, your muscles tense — your cursed weapon was in your bedroom, your cursed technique wouldn’t be enough to stop him, and your cellphone was on the counter between the two of you, “Suguru, I just got a call from Satoru, not twenty minutes ago about what you’ve done-"

“And what have I done, besides try to do what’s right?” And he steps towards you, one hand in his pocket, and you step back, reaching for your phone that you thought laid on the counter behind your bag, only for him to wave it in front of you, “I thought you of all people would see that,” 

Your face twists in disgust, “You killed innocent people—" 

“I killed monkeys,” he spits through gritted teeth, “I killed monkeys who do nothing but produce curses and kill sorcerers. Why should the strong live subservient to a race of lower beings?” 

You blink, “Do you hear yourself, Suguru? What happened to the strong have to protect the weak?” 

“Why should the strong have to watch all the people they care about die, only to die at the hands of the supposed weak?” his gaze is dark, eyebrows knit together, “if you join me—"

“I’m not joining you—"

“—we can be together,” you stare at him, and he steps closer, again, and this time you don’t step away, “in a new world, we could rule over a new age,” 

“Fuck you,” you scoff, as you move towards the door, “I thought Satoru was the one with a god complex, not you,”

And in a moment, he has you pinned against the wall, arms above your head, “I’ve been patient with you, love, but unfortunately I’m not in the business of taking no for an answer,” and he presses a kiss to your neck, making you shiver, “either you come with me, or I’ll let Satoru find your remains splattered against your walls,” 

Your heart lurches, fear slowly settling in, as you realize this wasn’t Suguru - your Suguru who you spent afternoons with messing with Satoru, your Suguru that waited for you with an umbrella to walk back to Jujutsu High when it was raining, your Suguru that gently kissed you in a classroom when you were being far too hard on yourself — no, this was Geto, a special grace curse user. 

“Will you really kill me?” You ask slowly, willing your voice to stay even, “after everything, you’ll make the choice to kill me, and no one else from Jujutsu High,” 

“I don’t want to, sweetheart. There’s no meaning, no meaning without you,” his lips curl in a cruel imitation of what his smile was, “but if you leave me no choice because, I can’t let you live if you’re not by my side,” 

A bitter chuckle leaves your throat, “Is this supposed to be romantic? Am I supposed to fall into your arms at the prospect of living?” you spit in his face, “fuck you.” 

He flinches, his mouth agape, as he wipes the spit from his cheek with his thumb, “I thought you’d say that,” and then the plane of existence is cracked open behind him, as a swirl of curses manifest and you close your eyes, and wait. 

You had no regrets. 

But you do when you wake. 

Your head aches, fuck, and you can’t get your bearings, your ears are ringing — a jolt shoots up your spine, as your eyes adjust to the darkness. A curse? An enemy? 

No, it was both. 

Suguru stands in front of you, hands in his pocket, “Hello my love,” 

“Fuck you,” you spit with as much venom as you can muster, as you struggle to move, your hands chained down in bindings that restricted your cursed energy, “fuck-"

“Don’t be in such a rush, we’ll get to that part,” and his voice is so lilting, it sends a chill down your spine. 

“You touch me, and I’ll break every bone in your body,” you say through gritted teeth, and his lips curl into a smile, a small chuckle parting his lips. 

“And how could you do that, my love?” He steps forward, as his fingers hold your chin, “you’re mine to do with what I wish,” and your voice catches in your throat, as real fear crawls it’s way up your stomach, “but I don’t care to force my affection into you, I’ll have you begging for it soon enough,”  

And your stomach turns, as he steps away from you again, “so what do you call this?” You ask quietly, as you lift your chained wrists. 

“A matter of circumstance,” he frowns, as he holds his head, “I hate to do this, but I must remind you of how much you love me, how much we love each other, and until you remember, I cannot allow you out of those restraints.” 

“I’ll never love you, with or without them,” you surge forward, the  restraints grating against your skin, “I never loved you to begin with,” 

He looks at you, with almost pity, “We both know that’s not true,” you waver under the weight of his gaze and you despise how you can’t deny it, “was the first time we shared a kiss a lie? After we had gone on that mission where we saw far too many horrors for children to see? Was it a lie those nights you came to my dorm to sleep in my arms when you couldn’t otherwise? Was it-“ 

“I loved you,” you whisper, “the you were before - the you that wasn’t a murderer, the you that—"

“The me that was allowing us to live under the thumb of these disgusting monkeys, the ones who kill us and let us be killed for their sake, while the corpses of my friends and sorcerers pile up like sacrifices on a pyre,” and you know he’s talking about Haibara now, “I couldn’t continue to live for a world like that, and I couldn’t allow you to continue living in it either,” 

“Haibara would hate who you’ve become,” you whisper quietly into the darkness, as he glances back at you, no emotion stirring in his expression, as if he’s already thought this a million times before. 

“But at least he would be alive,” your mouth open and closes, as tears burn at your eyes, “and I couldn’t stand to watch a world where more of my comrades would die for a cause that was setting them up for failure — I couldn’t stand for a world where I would lose you—"

His voice breaks, and you shake your head. 

“You lost me sooner, by leaving, by killing innocent people-“ 

“No one is innocent in this world,” he cuts you off, “everyone’s hands are bloodied one way or another - just by living, humans contribute to the death of sorcerers, creating curses that inevitably lead to someone’s demise - whether it’s another human or a sorcerer,” 

“It’s not their fault that they create curses—"

And he gives a bitter laugh, “Then whose fault is it? I never took you to be naive, my love,” 

“Don’t call me that,” and he gives a twisted smile. 

“Why wouldn’t I? When I love you,” he steps closer, holding your chin, “I love you so much I’m willing to risk you despising me, just so I can call you mine,” 

“I’ll never be yours,” and he leans forward, making you squeeze your eyes shut, but he presses his lips to your forehead. 

“You already are,” and he turns to leave, his robes sweeping behind him, “and I’ll get your heart too — one way or another.” 

You only can keep track of the days by Geto’s visits. He is sure to visit you in the evenings, after his work is done. And each day he comes back more bloodied than the one previously. He always washes himself with the sink in your cell, before he turns to you. 

“I want you to see what these people are — nothing more than animals. Animals that make money or curses or both - tools that run their course,” 

“Just because you keep me chained up in here doesn’t mean you have to bore me to death as well,” you hang your head, and he looks at you, tilting your chin up with his fingers. 

And he tries a different tactic, “You have been refusing your food for days, when are you going to eat? You can’t go on like this,” his voice has an edge of concern, “there’s nothing in the food that can harm you,” 

“Says the kidnapper,” you mutter, “I’m not hungry,” and your stomach almost growls on cue, and a chuckle escapes his lips. 

“Your body tends to betray you, my love,” and he  grabs your food, lifting a spoonful of fried rice to your lips, “eat,” 

“I’m not—“ and he raises an eyebrow — and you scowl, “I don’t want to be fed by you,” 

“You didn’t mind before - you insisted I feed you between classes. Always vending machine junk too—" 

“It wasn’t junk—it was—" 

“An acquired taste,” he waves you off, his lips curling into a smile, “well, I always fed you, and I always will, so please?” And he offers you the spoon. You glance at him, before taking the spoonful. 

And you note the bags under his eyes, and the shallowness of his face, “Have you been eating? Or sleeping?” 

And he looks up, offering you another spoon, “I-"

“You haven’t been,” you shake your head, “and yet you have the gall to tell me to eat,” and you take the spoon from his hand, offering it to him, “it’s not poison, right?” 

And he cracks a small smile, taking the spoonful, “you don’t have a poison cursed technique that I don’t know about?” 

“You wouldn’t be alive still if I did,” and he laughs at that, and the sound makes your stomach flip — just like the first time you heard him make it for you when you had one-upped Satoru. The first time that you realized you wanted to be the one to always make him laugh like that. 

Days pass, and his visits become more frequent. He doesn’t tell you of the people he murders - he learns better than to tell you - but the blood on his clothes doesn’t escape your notice. But he tells you of the sorcerers he finds that are oppressed — tells you of the two girls he’s taken under his wing. But each day, he looks more tired than the next, until you call him over to you. 

“Lay down,” and he blinks, “you need to sleep,” 

“I-" 

“You look terrible,” you say bluntly, “lie down,” and he glances at your bed that you sat on the edge of, the chains around your wrists.  

He moves towards the bed, lying down, but his head doesn’t lay on the pillow, but instead your lap, “Geto-"

“Suguru,” he corrects, peering up at you, his eyes barely staying open, “please,” and your resistance breaks, the exhaustion of being alone, the need for human contact, the softness of his body against yours - sends your walls crumbling to dust. Your fingers comb through his dark locks, softly undoing the tangles in them. And his breathing evens with time, as you lie back against the wall. 

“Suguru,” you whisper into the darkness, as your eyes shut as well, and you don’t see his lips curl into a smile. 

You don’t realize you fall asleep as well, until you wake a few hours later, and you’re asleep against his chest, his warm arms engulfing you. And you could swear the two of you were napping in an empty classroom, hiding from Yaga and Satoru, on a warm afternoon. And he’d whisper in your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

But it wasn’t a classroom, it was a cell. And those hands no longer exorcised curses — they murdered humans. 

But you could pretend. Just this once. You bury your head in his chest, and let yourself drift. But only this one time. 

When you wake next, he’s gone, the only memory of him is the unchained bindings on your wrists, the faint smell of him on your clothes, and the ghost of his touch still clinging to you.

The next few days his visits grew more frequent, but only for sleep, as he nestled beside you, as you pretended to be asleep. It became routine. At first, you would sleep turned away, but by morning, you were sleeping nestled in his chest. And then you dared to ask, “why do you come here to sleep? You must have a better bed somewhere else,” 

And he gives a phantom of a chuckle, “Well, that bed doesn’t have you, does it?” 

And his hand dares to breach your skin before sleep steals away your consciousness, and you can’t help but let it happen — because it hurts too much to pull away. 

And you don’t know why.  

He doesn’t come back for several days. The only interaction you have is one of his followers bringing you food each day, and they don’t answer your questions regarding their ‘lord.’ And each day you grow more anxious, picking at your nerves like you picked at your scabs — incessantly and unnecessarily. 

What if he was dead? What did it matter? All the more quickly you could return to jujutsu high, you could return to your life - a life without Geto. But the same question remained posed in your head — what if he was dead? 

Would you see his dead body before jujutsu high disposed of it? Before they forced Shoko to autopsy it for any secrets the higher ups could lock away - as if he were a failed experiment rather than a person. 

But he had killed so many - wouldn’t death only be right? Would that bring justice? Would that be peace? But the question remained, hanging in the forefront of your head, like a dead body from the rafters, a rope tied around their neck—

What if he was dead? 

But days later, your door swings open and it’s him — “Suguru,” you nearly all but tumble out of your bed, scrambling to his side as your gaze swept over his form. Scarlet ran down his body, cuts, bruises, and scratches littered what was visible of his skin, “what happened?” 

He doesn’t answer, a blank expression on his face, his hair come loose from his usual bun, bags under his eyes that tell tales of what he saw without him speaking a word of them. You reach for him tentatively, words scattered on the floor of your mind that you were desperately trying to collect, “is this your blood or someone else’s?” 

“Both,” he murmurs, his eyes still far gone, as his gaze shifts to the floor, “I have no right to ask — but can you—I can’t stand to have anyone else touch me—“ and his voice breaks, breaks for the first time — the same voice that didn’t break after Riko’s death, the same voice that didn’t break after Satoru was taken away from him, the same voice that didn’t break after Haibara — it broke. 

And it broke you. 

“Strip,” you say simply, but you undo his robes for him, “I need to see what damage you’ve done to your body,” you busy yourself with undressing him to escape the fact that you’re undressing him. You had seen his body times before, at first in dorm rooms late at night, when you cuddled next to him, desperate for a comfort he could only provide, and then between heated kisses and intimate touches that left you near breathless and needy for him, and then distant embraces that left you feeling more lonely and far from him than before. But this was different. 

He was different. 

You stripped away the clothing to find him bloodied and bruised to an almost impressive, but terrifying extent. The blood smeared on his skin was mostly another’s — you learned once you started to clean his cuts and bruises with a damp rag, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

His eyes slowly glide to you, cold as glaciers, “Do you want to hear about it?” 

“I’m asking, aren't I?” you sigh, as his gaze drops once again, and your hands still, one of your hands drifting to his chin, tilting his eyes to meet yours, “Suguru-” 

And he’s kissing you. 

His lips are soft, just as you remembered. You remember the first moment you noticed his lips — it was when you had fed him a pocky after he had swallowed a curse, his brow scrunching with slight disgust — never quite getting used to the taste, but having grown as accustomed to it as he could (as far as someone could grow accustomed to swallowing what was akin to a vomit soaked rag used clean shit). You sat beside him, a pocky between your lips, as you offered him one in your hand. And his gaze softened, leaning down and biting the one between your lips instead. And then you couldn’t stop staring at his lips — wondering how they felt against yours. 

He tasted like blood now, metallic and sharp as his jaw was now — no longer having the soft curve of childhood it was maybe a year ago. He swallows your gasp eagerly, giving you leeway to pull away, but you don’t. You can’t. Your lips press back into his, and he smirks against your lips, his arm wrapping around the middle of your back, so he was engulfing you even as he sat. His teeth bare down on your bottom lip, making you moan lightly, and his tongue sneaks between your lips with practiced ease, but it's no longer the sweet assault it once was — it's an onslaught, a razing of your defenses, and he knows the weaknesses of each curtain wall and bastion. 

“Suguru, wait—” but he’s impatient, he’s always so impatient — the first time you had kissed, he couldn’t stop at just one kiss, he needed your lips to be kiss bitten red until he was satisfied. His hands are so large and calloused, gliding up your sides, as he pulls you into his lap, “we were talking,” you protest, but he empties the words from your head with his lips pressed to your jaw, “Why are you—” 

“I don’t want to talk,” his raven locks fall in front of his face, his eyes somehow even darker, “I just want you, please,” 

And your heart squeezes and breaks, the walls crumbling to nothing, as you lean in and kiss him this time, fingers threading through his his hair, while your other hand rests on his bare chest, if only to feel his heartbeat under your touch. 

He was alive. Alive. 

“Please,” you sigh, as he toys with the hem of your shirt, “don’t tease me,” 

“Like you haven’t teased me with your existence each and every day I’ve known you, my love,” he chuckles, a noise deep from his chest that rumbles against your palm and sends a shiver down your spine, and he lifts your hand, kissing your wrist, his nose pressed against your pulse, “Do you know how much I want you? How much I need you?” and he answers the question for you, as he leans forward, his teeth graze your neck, pain and pleasure mixing in a twisted way. 

“Suguru—“ 

He rises from his seat, looming over you, his arms sweeping — one behind you and the other holding your chin — it sends a chill down your spine, “I just arrived at a village where a child was being held - said to be cursed. But those monkeys were the ones who were—“ he cuts off, “I came too late. They had killed her - sacrificed her to purge their village of their curses - a five year old girl,” he frowns, his gaze falling, “they failed to realize they were the true curses. So I purged the world of their existence,” 

You’re quiet for a moment, as he speaks, “she was a child and they ripped her to shreds,” and a tear slips down his cheek. 

Your fingers brush away his tear, before you lean up and kiss him. Your lips glide against his lightly, “it’s not your fault,” 

“I am always too late - I was there - I couldn’t-“ and you know he isn’t just talking about the girl anymore. 

Or at least this one. 

“What happened to Riko wasn’t-" 

“He shot her right through the head in front of me,” 

“You couldn’t sense him - Satoru could barely sense him with his six eyes—"

“Satoru could have stopped it—" 

“Satoru died and came back trying to stop Toji,” you crush your lips to Suguru, if only to get him to stop talking, “there was nothing more you could do,” 

“But I couldn’t stay,” he whispered, “I couldn’t watch more people die - more of my friends die, piled up like offerings on a pyre for animals who only kill us in the end,” 

“I know,” you whisper, “I know-" 

“You don’t,” his voice breaks, “all I could think about was finding your dead body one day,” you cup his cheeks again, pressing your lips to his forehead. 

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, and he kisses you — and he tastes less like blood and more like him — his arms wrapping around your waist, as he pulls you closer, “Suguru,” you shouldn’t be doing this. 

“I just want to feel good,” he murmurs, his eyes lidded with lust, “let me make you feel good, love,” 

His lips brush yours, and the ravine between you shrinks to a crack, as your bodies bridge the gap, before tumbling over the cliff. 

His hands are everywhere. His hands have mapped your body times before, but the gentle and awkwardness had all but faded, only leaving hunger. Already, his fingers are sliding under your shirt, calloused hands sliding over your bare skin. 

His lips only pause when his hands run over a new scar you had gotten right before he had gone rogue, “How did you get this?” 

And his eyes are dark, “I was on that mission, with Nanami and Haibara,” your gaze falls, as his fingers trace the scar, raised and angry still - just as he was, “we got separated. There was two grade 1s instead just the one we were told. I got this when it caught me by surprise,” you swallow thickly, “but I was lucky it was all I got,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “I sometimes wish it was me instead of-" 

“Don’t say that,” his words are as sharp as they always were, sharp as his touch, sharp as the curses that he pushed past his lips and the ones that left them, “don’t ever say that,” 

And his palm curls around your neck, “but-" 

He yanks you into a brutal kiss, forcing you swallow his words, and his tongue, as you moan, as he tastes you, “Still the sweetest thing I’ve tasted, even with the stupid things that leave your mouth,” he almost growls, as he lifts you onto the bed. 

“Suguru,” your back hits the mattress, barely bouncing against the springs before he looms over you - his smile was the same as it always was, but it sent a shiver down your spine - because you realize now how predatory it was, “are we—" 

“You’re mine, love,” his lips hover over yours, teasingly so, as his fingers cup your chin and his breath warms your skin, sending heat to the tips to your already curling toes, “even if I did, we’d find our way back; one way or another,” his lips brush gently over the nape of your neck, “I’d always come for you — one way or another,” 

Your lips meet again, and again, as his hands slide up your sides, but this time bringing your shirt with them, as he lifts it over your head. Your skin prickles at the cold air in the room and at his hot gaze dragging up your body. 

“You’re still the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, as his hands gently traces the curves of your body, and it makes you shiver - the hands that had slaughtered people earlier today could be this gentle with you. 

“And I still think you’re far more beautiful than I am,” your fingers run through his jet-black locks, “everyone had a crush on you,” 

He snorts, “Everyone?” 

“You should have seen the looks you and Satoru always got,” you roll your eyes, “the two princes of Jujutsu High - and you, you had the personality to match,”

“Well I wasn’t concerned about everyone,” his hands slip over his waist, “I only had eyes for one other,” 

“Satoru?” And he rolls his eyes. 

“Okay two others,” and your hand reaches to smack him, but he’s got both your hands pinned, before he’s leaning down to kiss your neck, “so temperamental,” he chides, “what am I going to do with you, Princess?” 

His other hand slips down your body, past the waistband of your shorts, ripping a gasp from your lips, “already so wet f’me,” his voice rasps with a chuckle, “you’ve been needing me for a while, haven’t you, baby?” 

“Suguru—“ and his fingers between to tease your leaking folds, making you squirm under his touch. 

“So perfect,” his long and lithe finger teases your lips apart, “I’m surprised you haven’t soaked through your shorts, probably thought about me every night I slept next to you - you were waiting for me to roll over and take you, weren’t you, baby?” And his finger finally slips in, your back arching and mouth in a silent ‘o.’ 

And he hums, as he begins to pump his finger, slowly at first, but it isn’t long before another joins, scissoring and stretching you, “you’re soaking the sheets, baby, such a dirty girl,” He leans down taking a nipple between his teeth, sucking harshly. 

“Please,” it was too much, too soon, and he’s grinning as his teeth dig into your soft skin, a soft groan as he feels you clench around his fingers. He holds your legs down in place, humming as they shake under his touch. 

“So fucking tight, can’t wait to feel you around my cock, Princess,” and you’re so fuckin’ close - wound too tight by his touch, by his presence, by him - and when his thumb rubs circles on your clit, your hips begin to ride his fingers. He chuckles, as he leans down to kiss you, “what would the people at Jujutsu High think? Seeing you ride my fingers like a slut? Probably think you’re locked away, waiting for them to save you, not begging for me to fuck you,” 

“Sugu,” and he curls his fingers just right, just as he bends down to suck on your clit. You moan his name, as you fall apart, back arching as you make a mess all over his hand, but his mouth is there to clean it up. His hot breath is the only warning you get before his tongue begins to lap at your drenched folds. 

“Never get enough of you creamin’ all over my fingers for me, pretty girl,” the noises he made as he licked, slurped, and sucked were enough to make you a mess, his lips shiny with your release, “how did I go so long without tasting you, baby? Almost makes swallowing curses worth it if I can eat you out after,” his words were as lewd as the sounds you made, your hips involuntarily fucking his mouth, as he moved his mouth to your clit again, and slipped two fingers in, “tasted so good the first time, gotta have another taste baby,” 

And your initial whine turns into a moan, your fingers finding refuge in the soft locks of his hair, tugging him impossibly closer, as he’s bullying your overstimulated clit with his mouth. And he enjoys it as much as you do, grinding his aching erection into the mattress, his jaw aching as he’s desperate to taste every inch of you and slurp every drop of your pussy will give him. Your thighs close in on him, as he tongue fucks you over and over, gushing as he draws another orgasm from you. 

“Sugu, oh my god-“ and that’s all the warning he gets before your back arches and your toes curl. He’s grinning against your folds as he eagerly swallows your release. The tension snapped like a wire that had been on the last fringes of holding you together, and you fell completely apart. 

Luckily, Suguru was there to put you back together. 

You’re panting, utterly blissed out as you watch him tug off his boxers, his dick already red and so pretty, pearly white bead of pre cum nearly dripping from the tip. You lick your lips looking at him, and he smiles, so sweetly that it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“So needy for me, the man you had refused to love, and now look at you,” he leans down to kiss you, letting you taste the sweet and bitter taste of your release, “such a little slut for me, aren’t you sweetheart? What happened to that mouth on you?” 

He drags his thumb down your bottom lip, as your eyes flutter down to his cock again, “I have better uses for my mouth,” you kiss his chest, teasing his skin with your tongue. 

And then he’s shifting you, your legs pushed up and over his shoulders, as he drags his tip over your dripping folds, “I think I’ll have you use my mouth after I use this naughty cunt, let you clean our cum off me,”

“Sugu, please, fuck,” you cry, and god he can’t wait to see your pretty face cry, as he stuffs your mouth with his dick, but he had patience. He could wait - he had waited long enough. 

“Gonna need you to beg for it,” he murmurs, groaning as your cunt nearly sucking his cock in, “you fought me so long and so hard and now here you are, so pliant f’me, so I need to hear it — who do you belong to?” 

“Suguru—“ and his lips press to yours, sloppily and rough, as if he wants to steal the logic from your mind, but he already had from the moment his lips touched yours, “please,” you whimper, and he’s spanking your cunt. 

“Please, what?” And his lips are curled in a grin as his lips trail kisses along your jaw, “gonna have to hear the words, my filthy girl,” 

And you can’t - you need him, “I’m yours,” your legs lock around his shoulders, “I belong to you, you own me,” 

Your words slip from a whine to a moan, as he sinks his length into you, inch by inch, and it’s enough for him to groan, fuck, it’s enough to make him cum on the spot, “you’re so tight, baby - it’s been too long since I’ve had you, gotta make this cunt remember my shape,”

“I wanted you so bad,” you gasp, as his hands grasp at your thighs, fingernails digging into your soft flesh, “but you kept getting farther away from me, and then you were gone,” and his gaze soften, even as you moan when he bottoms out, “I loved you - I love you—" 

“I love you too - I always have,” his teeth drags into his thigh, sucking and soothing the mark, he presses his cheek to the skin, “I left because I didn’t want to hurt you - and I couldn’t rise to your level,” his fingers tilt your chin to meet his, “so I had to drag you down to mine,” 

You moan as he gives a sharp thrust, “Fuck, Sugu,” as his hips slap against yours, all thoughts evaporating from your mind, as he fucks you, hard and fast, any words you knew dissolve away, leaving only his name behind (and a few choice swear words). 

Meanwhile, Suguru can’t stop speaking, “Never gonna want to leave me again, my sweet girl,” he purrs, “look at this sweet cunt, it doesn’t even want let my cock go without sucking me back in,” his words nearly drowned out by the sloppy noises of both of your cum soaked skin meeting together in thrusts, “tell me you’ll never leave, tell me you’ll stay,” and his movements slow to a stop, as you whine, “tell me,” 

“I’ll never leave you, I can’t,” you look up with eyes glassy with need, “can’t ever leave you, I love you,” and he’s fucking you harder, feeling your walls clench around him as you’re moaning his name as you cum. He comes undone too as you squeeze him, painting your insides with his thick cum. And you’re arching your back as you feel yourself full of him - so fucking good and full — as you come down from your high. 

And then all too soon, he’s pulling out, only to flip you over, on all fours, “Not done yet,” he only murmurs, leaning forward over you, as his still hardening cock bumps against your sensitive clit, “gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to,” his fingers collect your mixed cum dripping down your thighs to only shove it back in your still overly sensitive cunt. 

You lurch forward, knees buckling, as his fingers working you, “still so fucking tight even after I fucked you so good, Princess? Your cunt is still so needy for my cock,” he kisses your clit, before slapping it, the wet squelch enough to make you throb, “you ready for me, my love?” He grunts, raspy and raw. 

“Please,” you whine, and he doesn’t sink in slowly this time - your cunt nearly sucks him in, your mixed releases letting him slip in with ease, “f-fuck,” 

And Suguru hums, all too pleased, “Not so defiant now that you’re fucked out for me, baby,” his hips piston into you, and all you can feel, smell, and taste is him, all you can hear is your blood in your ears and the sloppy noises of Suguru fucking you. 

You were so close — you were so stretched out, his thrusts balls deep, as his hand reached around to turn your face to his to kiss your lips. It was sloppy, his calloused hand gripping your neck, lightly squeezing, as his tongue tasted your mouth, intent on having all of you, swallowing your moans eagerly. 

“Doing so well for me, Princess,” he praises, his jaw set as your walls clench at his cock, “such a fucking good girl for me,” It was as lewd as his other hand reaching around to to rub roughly at your folds, “need you to squirt for me, need you to drench me,” and it’s too much for you. 

You moan his name, shaking as you cum, squirting all over his cock as your release slides down your thighs, and Suguru follows shortly after, with a few rough thrusts, his hands grabbing your shaking hips to hold in place as he spurts his cum again inside you. 

He’s panting and groaning, as he slips from you, a swear leaving his lips as he pulls out, his seed dripping down your thighs as well. 

And you’re slumping on the bed, your sheets sticky with your release and sweat, as he gently turns you over, your chest rising and falling as he settles on top of you. His fingers brush your hair from your face, “Can we discuss moving you to the main house with me now?” He asks softly, as he presses sweet kisses to your flushed skin. 

“Yes,” you murmur, your lips slowly meeting his in a soft kiss, “as much as I don’t agree with your methods still, I can’t live a day without you,” and he smiles, “I can’t help but be drawn to you,” 

“And that’s why I couldn’t let you go - there has to have been a meaning to this,” he smiles, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, before he’s guiding your body so that you’re settled between his thighs, his cock brushing against your lips, “and now there always will be.”

✴︎ a/n: so this was inspired by a character ai (which i wanted to credit the creator but i can't find), but this was dark, so read the content warnings. i'm trying out different formats for my fics so excuse the changes. also i never was into geto until season 2 straight up hit me like the isekai truck.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Silver fox Steve meets fox hunter Eddie.

When Steve accepted the teaching position at IU, he didn't expect to stumble upon Eddie Munson–an enigma—who loved metal, who wore leathers with chains and rings, who always stood out with that wild mane, those attractive tattoos and devil-may-care attitude, and who had been trying to get into his pants for months now.

“Is this still a violation to the college’s policies, Professor?” Hot lips planted by his ears, strong hands held him down, stopped him from getting away.

“N– No,” Steve gasped and rolled his eyes back as Eddie hit that spot again. They had been at it for over an hour now, and Steve only had himself to blame for being weak-willed.

He had half a mind to worry about what his colleagues might say tomorrow about having seen him slink away with one of the graduates. But his head was rendered blank when those long calloused fingers wrapped around his neglected cock and started jerking it.

“Am I still too young for you, Professor?”

“Ye– Oh, god–” Steve writhed and slobbered as his sweet spots were battered again.

“Just Eddie is fine,” the younger man nipped the tip of his ear teasingly before setting up a brutal pace.

Steve couldn't even talk, he just fisted the sheet beneath him, overwhelmed and overstimulated. He was kind of appalled and thrilled by it all. Because sex had never felt so good to him before.

“Am I good enough for you, Professor?” Eddie asked, voice husky and gravelly with lust.

Steve dropped his mouth open to maybe form a proper word or breathe, he didn't know. His brain was too fucked out to remember why he had kept turning Eddie away in the first place.

The guy clearly knew how to plow. Fucking Christ.

He nodded blindly, moaning and losing his mind as Eddie hammered into his prostate as if wanting to knock his soul away.

He came with Eddie’s name on his tongue, twitching and clenching around the thick cock that pulsed inside him. He milked it for what it was worth, and lamented inwardly Eddie had filled the condom and not him.

Once the post-coital high finally passed, the clarity of the situation dawned on him. Steve didn't regret it, but he was mildly disappointed this was just a one-time thing.

Because of all people, he knew Eddie’s kind the best. Always curious, always eager to take on challenges. And who else was better to conquer than Professor Harrington who was known for being a rule stickler?

Except, tonight was the first time he let himself be swayed by those charming smiles and big impish eyes. Maybe it was old ages having mellowed him, or maybe it was loneliness wearing his guard down.

Either way, someone brilliant like Eddie would never stick around for a boring old man like Steve. Which was completely understandable. But it didn't hurt less to think he was just another pitstop in Eddie’s life. Easy to forget, easy to leave behind.

“Hope you haven’t gotten tired of me yet, Mr. Harrington,” Eddie returned from the bathroom with a washcloth in hands, looking far too chirpy in only a pair of black boxers and not at all as drained as Steve felt.

God, what a time to be reminded that he was too old for this.

Sitting against the headboard, Steve said nothing and just watched Eddie climb on the bed and kneel over to him. When he intended to take the washcloth, Eddie just grabbed his hand to kiss the back of it instead.

“Allow me to take care of my date,” the younger man said cheekily before proceeding to wipe him down with practiced ease.

“Your date, huh?” Steve snorted, laughing at himself for being so pathetic to perk up at that.

“Yeah, my date,” Eddie smiled softly, tone still light-hearted but eyes intense when they met his own. “We’re kinda doing it backward here but I can fix that.”

Jesus. Steve didn't think he knew what he was getting himself into. And still, he couldn't help but listen to his stupid heart, the one that was telling him to give Eddie a chance.

“How?”

“I know this place has really good tacos,” Eddie rested a hand on his bare thigh and stroked it slowly. “They also serve quite decent drinks and mean buffalo wings.”

“What if I say no?” Steve raised his eyebrow.

“Well, in that case,” Eddie deflated, looking like a kicked puppy as he braved on. “I’ll respect your decision and get out of your hair soon.”

Steve sighed, wishing pretty boys with big eyes weren't his weakness.

“Listen carefully,” he leveled Eddie with a serious look. “If you’re just looking for someone to fool around with, then I’m not the right person for you. But if you want to try for a real relationship, then we can do it together. And I’ll expect you to be fully committed. No polygamy or anything alike.”

Eddie grinned at him, dimpled and bright, before cupping his cheek and kissing the side of his mouth.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been committed to you since the first time we met. Been yours even before you noticed me.”

The fact that Steve could tell it was true made his heart flutter in his chest.

“Well then, Mr. Munson, I have no problem with you fixing our date tonight,” he turned his head slightly to press a chaste kiss on Eddie’s lips.

“So polite,” Eddie chuckled and kissed him again, but it was deeper and more tender this time.

Although Steve still couldn't quite believe Eddie would stick around, he decided to take the leap of faith anyway.

And many years later, when he glanced up from his newspaper to see Eddie showing him another new sweater for their dog, he knew he had made the right choice that night.

[alygator77]

∘₊✧─moment of passion─✧₊∘

✧ note // this is part two for moment of weakness ✧

✧ pairing. satoru gojo x fem! reader

✧ summary. after getting in an argument with satoru, you unexpectedly encountered a vicious battle, putting you on the brink of death. feeling remorseful for his actions and words as you lay in the infirmary bed, satoru wants to do everything he can to make it up to you.

✧ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, smut, bit of angst, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, penetration, oral (f & m receiving), praising, kinda breeding, shower/bath sex, reader does have a slight panic attack (with comfort), satoru taking care of you, satoru and reader in their 20s and both work at jujutsu high, both are powerful sorcerers

✧ words: 12.5k (ye i be yappin)

✧ a/n. the second part to moment of weakness! thanks everyone for your kind words :') i really had a lot of fun writing this. hope part two is to your liking ♡

Satoru feels an overwhelming sense of guilt and regret as he sits by your bedside in the infirmary of Jujutsu High. During each daily visit, he sits beside you for hours on end, silently clutching your hand and staring at your unconscious form. Each day that passes without you waking up is a day of torture for him.

He slowly watches your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, his expression a mixture of guilt and worry as he constantly replays the memory of your last conversation together. It was a stupid fight, and he regrets every harsh word that was exchanged between the two of you. He will not accept it – will not accept that those will be the last words he speaks to you.

Satoru desperately wishes he could take it all back, to beg you to forgive him. But for now, all he can do is sit by your bedside, waiting for you to wake up as he prays for you to pull through. He longs so much for you to open your eyes and look at him again, to hear your voice. The thought of losing you is unbearable for him, and he's willing to do anything to make sure it never happens.

As consciousness slowly comes back to you, you find yourself staring at the familiar white ceiling of Jujutsu High's infirmary, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the pristine cleanliness of the room confirming your location. Soft voices can be heard talking in the room, but they sound muffled and indistinct, the words difficult to make out.

You take a second to gather your bearings, your mind fuzzy and disoriented. It takes a moment for you to realize that the voices belong to none other than Satoru and Shoko. They continue their conversation in hushed tones, not noticing you regaining your consciousness. Their soft and indistinct words blend together in a low murmur.

You can tell that Satoru’s voice is laced with worry, his words carrying immense desperation. "It's been days now...why isn't she waking up?"

"She's been through a lot. Her body needs time to recover." Shoko’s voice is calm and steady.

Your body feels weak and fatigued as you struggle to sit up in the bed. Your muscles barely respond to your commands as you only manage to fumble around the mattress feebly. The shuffling of your bedsheets causes Shoko and Satoru to immediately take notice of your movement, their conversation coming to a halt as they turn their attention towards you.

They both rush to your side, faces filled with relief and concern. Shoko is the first to act, her eyes widening as she sees you weakly attempt to sit up. With a firm touch, she gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

"Don't try to sit up too quickly," she warns, her voice stern. "You're weak and battered, your body needs time to recover."

Satoru is beside you in an instant, his hand gently resting on your own, tracing soft circles.

"You’re awake,” he exhales. “Take it easy, don't overexert yourself."

Shoko checks your vitals, her hands moving quickly and efficiently as she assesses your condition. "How are you feeling?"

You turn to Satoru and can see the concern etched in his features. Your heart sinks, immediately recounting the last time you saw his face – the coldness in his icy eyes. And now this look he is giving you – you can’t help but feel disappointed in yourself. Despite everything that happened, you always have hated causing him to worry. In an attempt to hide your slight discomfort, you give him a strained smile. “A bit… groggy. Just feels like I have a really bad hangover.”

Shoko can't help but roll her eyes and snort at your comment, her expression a mixture of relief and sarcasm. "Only you would compare recovering from near-death to a hangover."

Satoru gives a small, flicker of a smile at your attempt to lighten the mood, but the worry still lingers in his eyes. "You gave us quite a scare," he mutters with a huff of a chuckle, "but I suppose it's good to see your sarcastic wit is still intact."

As Shoko continues checking your vitals, her hands move with practiced ease, maneuvering around the hospital bed with urgency and poise. "Honestly, you're lucky to be alive y/n. You sustained quite a lot of damage."

You feel Satoru’s grip on your hand tighten a fraction, his eyebrows furrowing at Shoko’s comment. "Are you in any pain? Do you remember what happened?”

“I’m not experiencing pain, my body just feels weak,” you rest your head back on the infirmary’s stiff pillow and look up at the ceiling fan – your mind spinning just as much as it while you try to recall the events that happened. What did happen? You remember arguing with Satoru and then... nothing. Just a fog of uncertainty. Your eyebrows furrow as sadness washes over you – though you can’t recall what triggers this emotion, your body responds on its own volition. “I remember pieces… I think... it’s a bit of a haze.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he picks up your somber expression. He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles with warmth. "Pieces, hmm?" he mutters.

You feel Shoko’s hands move quickly but gently over your body as she continues your check-up.

"That's not unusual," she says. "Trauma can sometimes cause memory gaps. Especially considering what you've been through."

As she finishes, she takes a step back, a small sigh escaping her lips, clutching her clipboard as she charts your vitals. "You'll be weak and tired for a while. The pain will probably come later, once your body fully registers what it's been through.” Her eyes flicker up to you and Satoru as she breaks her focus from her notes. “I need to report your condition to Principal Yaga. Gojo, will you watch over her in the meantime?"

Satoru nods, his gaze never leaving your face. "Yeah, of course."

The door closes behind Shoko with a soft thud, leaving you and Satoru alone in the infirmary. He remains seated in the chair beside your bed and his hands do not waver from yours – the soothing circles not stopping. You feel that with each gentle brush of his fingertips, he is touching you as if you are the most delicate thing in his life.

The silence that falls between you both is heavy. There is still a lingering sting in your heart at the sight of Satoru. You cannot shake the image of that once cold stare of his, the one he directed directly at you during your argument – and his words, the way he claimed that your shared passion meant nothing to him… it replays in your head constantly like a broken record.

Yet despite it all, despite all that was said and done, you undeniably wanted him by your side. Feeling conflicted, it is clear there is much that needs to be said, but neither of you speak up for a few moments. It is ultimately Satoru who breaks the silence, his voice soft and low, barely above a whisper.

"You scared the crap out of me. Don't ever do that again."

“Guess I caused you trouble again…huh?” unable to hide the somber tone in your voice, you force a smile in hopes to mask it.

"I'm not worried about the trouble you cause," he mutters, his voice laced with both irritation and affection. "I'm worried about you, dummy."

You blink as he squeezes your hand gently, his gaze softening as he fixes it on your features. He braces himself with a deep breath. "You've always caused me trouble. But I'd rather deal with a lifetime's worth of trouble than lose you," releasing an exhale – his voice evokes vulnerability as you hear it tremble slightly.

"I know I've been an ass... and I know my words have hurt you... but the thought of losing you... it..." shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, he struggles to find the right word to express his feelings, his emotions getting the best of him.

"I..." He pauses, his snowy lashes fluttering open as his gaze locks with yours – eyes blue with sorrow. "I'm sorry. For the way I acted and what I said. The fear I felt when I found you in that village, hurt and unconscious... it was a waking nightmare."

Satoru reaches out his free hand and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment, caressing your face tenderly.

"You have no idea… how much you mean to me," he murmurs, "I don't know what I'd do without you... I can’t lose… this." He intertwines his fingers with yours, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. His hands are a bit clammy upon yours – is he nervous? You’ve never seen him be so vulnerable with you. You look down at your hand, intertwined with his, and shift your gaze back to meet his own.

“And what exactly is, this, Satoru?” you whisper, a slight tremble in your voice. “I’m so confused. You constantly send me mixed signals.”

Satoru swallows hard at your question, his hand still holding onto yours tightly, as if holding onto you for dear life. He hesitates for a moment, struggling to articulate his feelings and thoughts.

After giving him a moment, you continue “You need to let me in. I can’t understand how you feel unless you tell me.”

“This… us,” he murmurs, his voice strained with emotion. “Honestly, I don't know what we are either. I can't define it, but I know how I feel about you... and it scares me.”

He releases a shaky exhale, his gaze breaking from you momentarily as he looks away. "You're right, I know I've been giving you mixed signals. But every time I tried to get closer, something held me back. Letting people in... it's not something I'm good at."

You feel his grip on your hand tighten, his thumb gently stroking the skin on the back of your knuckles as he slowly adverts his eyes back to your own. "But you're right... I need to let you in. You deserve to know... everything." He pauses, his eyes searching your face as he chooses his next words carefully. "The truth is, I love you... I've loved you for a long time. And it terrifies me." Satoru’s confession hangs in the air, his words ringing with raw honesty.

His eyes soften as he watches you take it in. "I didn't want to admit it... even to myself," he whispers. "I thought if I kept my distance, if I played it cool, I could protect you from the danger that comes with loving me. But the truth is... I'm not good at staying away from you."

He gently brushes a tear from your cheek that you hadn't even realized had fallen.

Reaching up, you lightly place your free hand upon his. You can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, his pulse pounding slightly faster than usual. As you stare into his blue eyes filled with a mixture of love, fear, and vulnerability, you finally speak the words that have been ringing in your mind since your fight.

“You… when you picked me up from the bar. What we did… you said it didn’t mean anything,” you feel your voice tremble slightly as you try to prevent any more tears from falling.

Satoru’s gaze flickers momentarily as guilt and regret flash across his face. His eyes shift away from yours, unable to hold your hurt gaze as the memory of his harsh words come back to him.

"I was a bastard," he mutters under his breath, his eyes averted from your own as his white tousles hide his shame. "Those words... they were a lie. What we did... what we shared...” he pulls his gaze back up to meet your own, “it meant everything to me.”

"I was trying to protect myself... protect you... by pushing you away. But the truth is...” He sighs heavily, his fingers fidgeting with yours as he searches for the right words to say, finally letting out a defeated groan. “God, I wanted you more than anything in that moment. I still do. I was scared... and I thought if I pretended it didn’t matter, it would be easier to keep my distance.”

The raw honesty in Satoru’s confession causes your chest to tighten. The words you’ve desperately wanted to hear, his words, cut through any lingering doubt in your heart. The truth of his feelings and his vulnerability laid bare before you – you feel the tears well up in your eyes. Damnit, you can’t hold them back anymore.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, shuddering as you try to compose yourself. When you open your eyes to meet his, your voice is soft yet firm. “You hurt me, Satoru. Your words... they stung.”

"I know," he mutters softly, strained with guilt. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for hurting you. I was an idiot, a coward. I should've told you the truth from the start.” He swallows heavily, his throat bobbing with the weight of his emotions. “I hope you can forgive me, though I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness… so I understand if you can’t.”

With a shaky exhale, you sniffle and wipe your tears – your lips curl into a half smile. “I’m the real idiot… can’t believe I fell in love with such a fool.”

Satoru’s face transforms at your words, his eyes widening slightly and a flicker of hope igniting within them. The tension in his shoulder’s eases slightly as a wry smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“But don’t think you’re off the hook. You’ve got a lot of making it up to me to do. I won’t go easy on you Satoru Gojo.”

“Oh, I know you won’t make it easy on me. You never do,” He lets out a small laugh, a mixture of disbelief and relief. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“Believe me, I know I'll have to work my ass off to earn your forgiveness. But I’m up for the challenge. I’m gonna make sure you never doubt how I feel about you ever again. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, his voice filled with determination. “I’ll grovel, beg, whatever it takes to make up for my idiotic behavior.”

“The world’s strongest sorcerer on his knees for me? Now that is a sight I can get used to,” you snort and can’t help but give him a smug smirk.

Gojo huffs at your comment, rolling his eyes playfully while he pretends to take offense at your words. "Hey, careful there, I have an image to maintain," his brows furrow dramatically as he teases you with a mock hurt voice.

Pleased with his dramatics, you let out an infectious laugh – a wide smile expands across Satoru’s lips, the sound is like music to his ears. He truly missed your laugh.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” you snicker.

“Careful, princess,” he warns mockingly. “Don’t rile me up too much otherwise I might actually have to fulfill that fantasy for you.” His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “I have no problem getting on my knees for you in other contexts. But trust me, I'll find a way to make you kneel for me too.”

You feel the warmth rise up to your cheeks as your eyes widen. “S-Satoru!” you pull away from him and whine as you bring your hands to your face, attempting to hide your embarrassment. He snickers gleefully, his eyes gleaming with mischief – he knows exactly how to get to you, and he's enjoying every second of it. “You’re being unfair. Shut up and help me up from this bed, would you?” you pout.

Unable to keep the shit eating grin off his face, a low chuckle escapes his lips. “Aww, you’re just too fun to tease. But alright, alright. As you wish, my princess.” Satoru lifts himself from his seat and nears you on the bed. He reaches down to gently pull the infirmary’s bedsheets off of you and his gaze drifts down to your damaged body.

His grin fades as he takes in the sight of your battered form, his heart clenching with worry. He can see the extent of your injuries more clearly now. The burns, the bruises, and the bandages covering a widespread of significant wounds. “Hey... are you sure you should be getting up? You're hurt pretty badly, love."

Looking down at your own wounded frame, it’s as if suddenly everything hit you all at once. You feel a lingering pain begin to course throughout you – your body finally registering what it’s been through. The extent of your injuries causes you to wince slightly in discomfort.

The helplessness of your condition causes a wave of frustration to wash over you. You hate being like this – you’ve always tried to keep up with Satoru and Suguru, and you know that him seeing you like this is going to cause him to worry even more. "I know," you whisper back with a strained voice. "But I can't just lay here all day. I feel so... hopeless. I want to get up and move, even just a little. Sitting around doing nothing is going to drive me insane."

Satoru studies your face as he hesitates for a moment – Shoko did say you need time to recover, but he’s always had a hard time saying no when he sees that determined look in your eyes. He knows trying to keep you in bed against your will is futile – you’ve always been unbelievably stubborn when you set your mind to something – it's one of the things he finds both endearing and frustrating about you. Finally relenting, he gives in with a resigned sigh and reluctant nod.

"I understand," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "How about we try walking a few steps first to see how you feel. But if you start to feel faint or dizzy, you have to promise to tell me, alright? You're not going to do yourself any favors if you push yourself too hard too soon."

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, though you can hear the uncertainty in your own voice. “I won’t sit here doing nothing.”

Satoru carefully helps you sit up, gently slipping an arm behind your back as he takes your arm and wraps it around his own shoulder for support. His hands slowly and gently guide you into a comfortable position and his body feels warm and firm against yours, providing a support for you to lean on. As he slowly ushers you to the edge of the bed, you feel a tinge of soreness in your body, but it’s nothing unbearable.

"Just take it slow, okay?" he murmurs. "And you better tell me if you need to rest, no pushing through it."

With a gentle pull, Satoru helps you to your feet. As you take a subtle step off the bed, you cannot help but wince slightly the moment your weight drops to the ground. A lingering pain shoots throughout your body, but you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to distract yourself and muster through it. You refuse to admit it – refuse to let him worry too much.

"How do you feel? Is the pain bearable?" his brow lifts as he examines you, his voice laced with concern.

"Just a bit sore," you say, trying to brush it off. "It’s fine. I need to move around anyways, stretch my muscles."

He huffs at your response, shaking his head slightly. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. I can tell you're in pain, my Six Eyes don’t lie, sweetheart. You’re wincing and we haven’t even taken a single step yet.”

You roll your eyes at his concern and groan with a strained voice. "Satoru, I feel weak, not broken… just help me get to that chair over there.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?” he grumbles as his grip on you tightens. “But alright, if you're determined to make this difficult, I'll help you walk to the damn chair."

The journey to the chair feels like an eternity, each step causing a pained wince to escape your lips as Satoru carefully helps you with each tender step. His unwavering grip supports your weakened body and his gentle arms guide you into the infirmary’s seat slowly. Settling into the chair, you let out a loud exhale as your tense body begins to relax from the alleviating pressure.

Satoru’s own relieved breath escapes his mouth the moment you sit down as well – his hands lingering on your frame for a moment, as if not wanting to let you go just yet. He kneels down in front of you, his expression softening as he observes your fatigued form.

Taking in the lines of pain etched on your face, Satoru runs a gentle hand over your hair, his fingers tenderly brushing through the locks in a soothing motion. "There," he whispers, "You did good, you stubborn idiot. Now can you finally admit that you’re hurting?”

You close your eyes for a moment, relishing in the comforting feeling of his fingers flowing through each tousle despite his snarky comment. As you lean into his hand, for a brief moment, the pain seems to fade away.

"No, I..." you waver, losing the energy to put up this front. As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t combat how worn out you feel – your own stubborn attitude finally begins to yield. Opening your eyes, you give Satoru a sidelong glance, your eyes meeting his for a moment before you let out a soft sigh. “Fine. I admit it. I'm hurting… a lot.”

Satoru flashes a wry grin at your admission, a small sense of victory dancing within his eyes. "Took you long enough," he teases, still gently stroking your waves as his fingers tangle in your locks, giving you a gentle tug. "See, was that so hard? Admitting you're in pain is the first step to recovery, you know."

You exhale and release a slight chuckle – although you loathed being in this state, you had comfort knowing Satoru was here to take care of you. But as the breath escapes your mouth, you are suddenly met with a sharp discomforting twinge upon your abdomen. Flinching from the pain, you shuffle to readjust your position in the chair.

Satoru’s expression turns serious as his brow furrows with concern – he watches your body betray the strength you’re adamantly trying to cling onto. After withdrawing his hand from your head, he rests it gently on your knee. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Right…here.” Lifting up your shirt slightly, you observe Satoru’s eyes widen, his hand on your knee clenching involuntarily as you reveal your abdomen – the bandages wrapped around you are stained in blood.

You grimace as the cool air hits the wetness of your blood-stained body and Satoru’s expression grows more serious. "Jesus," he mutters under his breath, his jaw clenching. "We need to have Shoko change your bandages… y/n, what did this to you? What the hell happened? Was it a curse?"

“I…” you hesitate, suddenly it feels like your head is spinning – the lack of blood making you just as light headed as the thick fog sheathing your memory. You lift your hand to your temple and close your eyes, furrowing your brow and pursing your lips as you desperately try to put the pieces together. Although your memories are hazy, you vaguely recall being with Suguru.

Satoru gently takes your hand in his, his touch firm yet tender. "Hey, take it easy," he says softly. "Don't strain yourself. Let’s take it nice and slow, okay? Can you tell me where you were last? Do you remember anything that happened beforehand?"

You nod slowly, swallowing hard. Images of the dim atmosphere, the sound of the calming music, the aroma of delicious cuisine – they all start to come back to you.  “I… I remember getting dinner with Suguru. I think he took me to a village.”

Satoru’s expression tightens at the mention of Suguru's name. He can feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, but he quickly pushes it aside, his concern for you taking precedence over his own feelings. Why wasn’t Suguru there then? He needed more answers.

“Yes, Koji village,” he echoes. “That’s the location you sent me on your phone, it’s where I found you unconscious. You were with him...? What happened then? Do you remember anything after dinner?”

You take a moment to recollect your thoughts – suddenly your eyes widen in shock and your lower lip begins to quiver. Was your mind playing tricks on you? The gruesome imagine of Suguru killing civilians, the visual of blood splattering on him, the smell of burning flesh, the screams, the empty look in his eyes. It becomes too much – you feel your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he watches the color drain from your face. He can see the realization and horror in your eyes, and he knows you are remembering something awful. He rests his hands on your shoulders and rubs them soothingly, trying to ease your shaking frame.

"Hey, hey," he repeats, his voice softer this time. "It's alright. You don't have to recount everything that happened. Take your time, I'm right here with you."

You were on the brink of breaking down. You feel a tear start to fall down your cheek, your breaths coming in ragged – no control over your body, over your emotions. A high-pitched ringing sound begins to buzz in your ears as the sounds around you drown out. Were… you having a panic attack? You stare at Satoru in shock, his lips are moving as he tries to call your name, but you can barely hear him, can barely focus – the images were overwhelming you.

Satoru’s heart clenches in his chest as he sees the tremors wracking your body. He's never seen you like this before, so vulnerable and terrified. He squeezes your hand gently, trying to keep you grounded while his other hand tenderly cups your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

"Hey, hey, focus on me," he whispers. "Just take a deep breath. It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here. You're safe."

As the pace of your breath increases, you desperately try to cling to Satoru’s calm presence, but your trauma is formidable – you find your mind to be caught in a cycle of fear and pain. The tightness in your chest makes you begin to gasp, trying desperately to get air inside your lungs as sobs escape your throat.

"Baby, breathe," he urges, his voice low and soothing. "Take a deep breath. Just focus on me. I know it's hard, but you have to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Satoru’s voice is steady, commanding, and filled with tenderness – a lifeline in the midst of your panic. He keeps his grip firm on your hands, anchoring you to reality. "In and out, alright?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with concern. "Just listen to my voice and breathe with me. In... and out."

Satoru begins to take slow, deep breaths, counting silently in his head – you mimic him, the breaths gradually bringing you back to the present. Once you begin to stabilize, Satoru lifts himself up to his knees, pulling you close to him until your head is resting against his chest. His arms envelop your still shaking frame, holding you up as you regain control.

You continue to exhale into his chest, a tremble with each release. He holds you tightly against him, his hand stroking your hair in a soothing motion, waiting for your emotions to settle completely. The room is filled with only the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of his heart. He silently holds you for a long moment – once he feels the tremors in your body subside, you pull away and your eyes connect.

Slightly releasing his hold, Satoru’s hands still rest on your shoulders, a silent assurance that he's still there, still close. His expression is filled with concern as he studies you – although your face is etched with sadness, he is relieved that your breathing is steady now and your tears have subsided.

"You alright?" he asks softly. "Can you talk to me now?"

“Yes,” you whisper, voice still slightly trembling. “I remember everything now.”

Satoru takes a moment to absorb your words, his jaw tensing slightly as he senses the turmoil behind them. He knows whatever you're about to say isn't going to be easy. He takes your hand again, his fingers stroking your palm gently as he gives you a soft nod. "Okay. Tell me… everything."

“The village,” you murmur, your words feeling immensely heavy. “Suguru killed them all… and he almost killed me.”

Satoru blinks at you in disbelief – his eyes widening as he hears your words, his grip on your hand tightening. Did he hear you correctly?

"What?" his voice barely above a whisper. "Suguru… did that?”

Satoru takes a deep breath trying to calm his racing thoughts. Suguru – his closest friend. There is no way… he can't believe what he's hearing, but the look on your face is telling him that you're not lying. A mixture of shock and anger begin to bubble up within him.

"He almost… what?" his tone becomes sharp as a low growl emanates his throat – his eyes flicker down to your battered body briefly. "He hurt you?"

You swallow hard and nod, your eyes studying Satoru’s own as you can see the hurt pooling behind them. You are unsure where to begin – unsure if you have the willpower to even relive it, because speaking about it feels like it will make it true. You desperately wanted it not to be true – for this to be some terrible nightmare.

The intense gaze that you share with Satoru abruptly snaps apart, interrupted from the infirmary door swinging open – Shoko and Yaga enter the room swiftly. In that moment, Satoru’s expression darkens further, his first clenching in disbelief as Yaga confirms the worst.

“Y/n, pardon the intrusion. I was just given a report from a survivor at Koji village. We were told that Geto Suguru massacred the entire village. He has been missing for days.”

∘₊✧

Your recovery period is by no means lonely – Satoru is constantly by your side after hearing the news. He can’t help but feel high strung knowing Suguru is missing. He wants to be there to protect you at all costs.

Throughout the passing days, you can see how worn-out Satoru’s become. Though he tries to hide it, the exhaustion in his features are prevalent, the bags under his sapphire eyes grow darker with each passing day. Despite his fatigue, he doesn't complain, not once does he even mention how tired he is, but you undoubtably know. So much is expected of Satoru, him being the strongest and all, yet rather than going home to sleep he chooses to come to the infirmary after his duties, immediately slumping into the chair next to your bed with his normally immaculate hair looking disheveled.

Shortly after Yaga confirmed Suguru’s crimes, as hard as it was, you filled Satoru in on all the details of what had happened – including the conversation that you shared with Suguru before he began spilling blood. Satoru’s worst fears were confirmed. The realization that Suguru would target you, knowing that you were his Achilles heel – it crushed him and shook him to the core.

Satoru always knew deep down that you were his greatest weakness, anyone who wanted to hurt or control him could easily do so by targeting you – hence why he would always push you away in the past. But now, hearing that his friend, someone he trusted, would exploit that fact… it leaves him with a bitter taste of betrayal. Suguru knew that if Satoru joined his ambition, his dreams could become reality – after all, Satoru is the strongest, nobody would be capable of stopping them.

Mustering through ten tiresome days of physical therapy, vitals, medication and bland hospital food, your recovery is at long last within reach. You’re able to move easily now, with your strength finally returning to you, but this also makes you all the more restless – you are ready to get out of this dreaded hospital bed.

“Looks like you’re free to go!” Shoko looks down at her clipboard and back up at you smiling.

The words you’ve been itching to hear. A wide grin spreads across your face from your unreserved delight – you were so excited to finally go home. Your eyes instantly flicker over at Satoru sitting beside the infirmary bed. He stands up from his chair, stretching out his limbs slightly, and a small smirk crosses his lips as he meets your gaze. "Ready to get out of here, princess?"

Beaming in excitement, you spring up from the edge of your bed with an unwavering grin and leap into Satoru’s arms, feeling the rumble of his low chuckle as his warmth engrosses you in an embrace. Lifting your head up from where it was buried in his chest, you meet his eyes. “Please, get me the hell out of here.”

He grins down at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "As you wish," he declares. With you still in his arms, he turns to Shoko and nods his thanks. "We'll be taking our leave now. Thanks for everything, Shoko."

“Right then,” she muses. As Shoko turns to leave, she hums and flashes you both a sheepish grin. You can feel her eyeing the two of you with a curious expression. Ah, that’s right – she hasn't been filled in on the details of what's happened… you never did get the chance to tell her about how your relationship has blossomed with Satoru. Later, you think.

After the door clicks shut behind Shoko, Satoru holds you close, his grip firm yet gentle – lifting his free hand, he prepares to wave his hand sign to teleport. “Here we go,” he mutters into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t throw up this time, okay?”

You laugh and roll your eyes – that night, when he teleported you eagerly, it felt like a lifetime ago after everything you’ve been through. “Very funny,” you say sarcastically. “Yeah well, I’m not drunk this time Satoru.”

"True, you're not drunk,” he barks out a laugh. “So, hopefully, I won't have to hold your hair back this time, sweetheart."

You huff and shake your head at his teasing while he adjusts his grip a little more firmly around your waist. "Hold on tight, princess. You know the drill."

You nod, and the sensation of being pulled in all direction’s envelopes your body – you feel yourself thrust through eternity, and with a blink of an eye, there you are in your apartment. Your gaze flickers from the sofa to the kitchen, to the small collection of photographs and trinkets scattered around the space. It is peaceful and quiet – undisturbed, just as you left it.

He watches as you look around the familiar surroundings, a small sigh escaping his lips. His grip releases slightly as he allows you to stand on your own – but his hands remain on your waist with a lingering touch.

“Home sweet home,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on your face with a relaxed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Feels good, huh? Miss it?”

You exhale your own sigh of relief, slightly pulling away from him. “Yeah. I for one can’t wait to take a bath. The infirmary’s quarters are nothing to ride home about.”

Satoru chuckles at your comment, his eyes full of amusement. "Oh, princess, if you think you're going to get a peaceful bath, you're mistaken."

His smirk widens as he pulls you closer to him, his arm sliding around your waist while his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "You think I'm letting you out of my sight for even a second after everything that's happened?"

Satoru’s words send a shiver down your spine, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and seductive. “S-Satoru!” you whine. As he watches a flush of heat rise up your cheeks from his words, a low chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You honestly think I'm going to let you have a peaceful bath when I haven't felt you in weeks?” he purrs, his voice dripping with honey. “Let you soak in the hot water all alone, when I could be there with you, hands roaming across your skin, touching you in all the right places? Come on, sweetheart. We never did finish what we started last time…”

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours. His face is so close that you can feel his hot breath dance upon your skin, his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating off of him in waves. You can see the desire swimming in his eyes, the way his gaze rakes over your face, as if he can't get enough of you.

As his lips begin to graze the edge of your jawline, you mewl – the feather-light kisses against your skin trailing down you as he carves a gentle path towards the crook of your neck. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer as you clench the fabric of his shirt. Dipping your head back, you invite his kisses to deepen as you expose more of your flesh for him to feast on.

He pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply, before his lips slightly part and his tongue flicks out, trailing a wet path along your pulse point. “S-Satoru..” your breath flutters, and he feels the rapid beat of your heart against his mouth.

A low groan emanates from his throat as he can feel the heat rising on you – God he’s been craving this. He pulls you even tighter against him, his hands gripping your curves, fingers digging into the skin underneath your thin skirt as he presses his hips into yours.

He begins to nibble at your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he sucks, leaving small marks while his hands slide to grip and caress the plush of your ass. “Wh-What’s gotten into you?” you moan breathily as the aching need between your legs begins to pool from his touch.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes darkened with desire as he looks into your own. “You,” he whispers gruffly. “It’s all you. You drive me crazy, princess.” His gaze is smoldering and his lips are tantalizingly close to yours.

Closing the distance, your lips capture his in a deep, passionate kiss. His arms trail down your waist, snaking under your thighs as he effortlessly pulls you up. You press your chest flush against his own as he holds you, deepening your kiss as you wrap your legs around him and his hands grip your backside.

Satoru’s tongue explores your mouth in a heated frenzy as he carries you across the room and towards your bedroom. Your kiss is frenetic, as if each crash between your lips is insatiable. He halts his stride through the hallway to the bedroom as he presses you against a wall for a moment, his body pinning you there as he kisses you hungrily. You arch your back against him, your fingers tangling in his messy ivory hair as you feel a hand glide up your shirt, gripping your supple breast firmly. He groans into your mouth, his cock throbbing as his body responds to kissing you, touching you – the tension between you thick and electric.

He pulls away, breath mingling with yours, his chest heaving against you as he looks down at your kindled expression. "Fuck, I missed you. You're driving me crazy," he growls, "I've been waiting patiently for you to recover, I can’t wait any longer.”

As he collides his lips back against yours, his grip adjusts on you, allowing you to feel his length twitch between your legs. The pressure of him against your clothed core makes you desperately crave more contact as you increase the pace of your sloppy kisses with heavy breathes. Once you enter your bedroom, he swiftly throws you onto the bed, following quickly after as his body looms over you.

He stares down at you with a hunger – tousles of his disarranged hair hanging down as his icy blue eyes sweep over you, raking in the sight of your lips, plump and swollen as they glisten from the remnants of your shared kiss. You feel your heart thudding against your ribcage like a maddened drum as your chest rises and falls, the heat radiating from your body.

“Don’t hold back ‘toru,” you mewl while you slide your hands up his chest and down his broad shoulders. “I need you so bad.”

A low growl escapes him as your words reach his ears, your plea pushing him even further over the edge. "Oh princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "You have no idea how long I've been holding back. I won’t. I won’t hold back now."

He lowers himself to you, lifting your shirt off of you as he begins trailing kisses upon your abdomen. Once his lips reach the hem of your skirt, his fingers begin to play along the trim of the fabric. His touch is slow and deliberate as he pulls it down, exposing your black laced underwear, already soaked from the pooling warmth between your thighs.

His breath hitches at the sight, and he lets out a low growl, “Fuck.” His body responds intensely as he feels himself throb at the sight of you. "You’re soaking wet," he murmurs. "I've been aching to touch you for so long."

You shiver from the sensation of his breath dancing on your thighs while he peppers kisses up them, until finally his lips are met with your clothed center. "Can’t stop thinking of last time.. I’m desperate to feel you against me, to hear your sweet moans," his voice is sultry as he slowly runs his fingers up and down your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your core.

Each time he pulls away, you groan in frustration, your hips buckling forward and that tingling ache between your legs, eager for him to touch you. “Satoru, please... need you to touch me.”

With a low hum of approval, he leans in, his lips hovering just millimeters away from the spot you ache for him most. "Well, what’s this? So needy… are you begging for me?" a smirk playing on his lips. "Go on then. Use your words sweetheart," he purrs as his fingers tease the edge of your underwear, his touch feather-light. “Tell me what you want. Need to hear you say it.”

A shiver of anticipation runs through your body as he leans in, your body trembling with a shockwave of desire as his fingers trace intimate patterns against your skin. A moan escapes your lips, your breath hitching as you cry out, “Fuck, ‘toru. Please, please. Touch me, I need you. Can’t wait any longer..”

He grins in response to your pleading, his expression smug and satisfied as he revels in your desperation. "Hmm..." he hums, his fingers pulling your underwear down to expose your pretty folds. "Begging suits you, you know. Told you’d I’d have you begging for me.”

As you lay bare before him, he relishes at the sight of you dripping with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Didn’t get a good look last time. Been eager to taste you.” He inhales and licks a long strip across your cunt up to your sensitive bud. A needy moan escapes your lips and your hips shutter under him as his warm breath murmurs against your entrance.

Your moan is like music to his ears, sending a shiver down his spine and making his length grow, pressing firmly against the fabric of his pants. He grips your hips and buries his face deep within you, as if trying to mold you against him. You can’t help but moan more, breathless while his tongue works extensively, exploring every inch of your womanhood, wanting to ingrain the taste of you into his memory.

Arching your back, you look down at him to be met with his gaze, intense, almost feral – a gaze that could set fire to the room. The hunger within him is barely contained as he drinks you in like a man deprived of water. Each flick of his tongue causes a primal need to pulse through his veins and shoot to his cock, throbbing and desperate to claim you.

He pulls back for a brief moment, panting slightly as he rakes in your flushed face, painted in pleasure as your chest rises and falls with ragged breaths. A smirk plays on his lips – lips glistening with your essence. "You taste so good.” With a devious glint in his eyes, he reaches down to your sensitive bud. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure and a moan escapes your mouth as he begins to massage your clit with soft, circular motions. “Enjoying yourself?" he muses, his voice low and sultry.

“Feels good ‘toru,” you manage to gasp out. “Please… more.”

His smirk widens as he hears your breathless pleas, his fingers continuing their gentle torture on your sensitive button. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I’ll give you all the pleasure you deserve." He pushes his face between your legs again, his tongue dancing in your slit as he softly sucks and laps in your nectar.

You grip onto his head, your fingers pulling at his snowy locks while you plunge him further into you, rocking your hips upon his face, his nose rubbing against your vibrating clit. He lets out a low groan at your sudden fervor, and he feels his cock ache hard, almost unbearable, as it presses against his pants. Fuck, he loved it when you used his face like this. His tongue works quicker, matching the pace of your movements as you grind completely on top of him.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘toru. Don’t you dare stop, ‘m so close,” your voice trembles as your pitch rises – your vision goes blurry as the pressure builds below from your nearing peak. Your grip on his hair tightens and you are relentless with your movements, wanting so desperately to come undone on top of him – feeling like you’re ready to burst.

"Cum f’ me, princess," he murmurs, his voice breathless and gravelly as it vibrates against you. It brings you over the edge as you arch your back and rock intensely on top of his pretty face, rubbing it vigorously against your clit. Your pace ascends with each ardor movement – the tension within your core becomes unbearable, until finally, shivering and writhing in ecstasy as your toes curl and you moan his name, you cum on top of him. He lets out a deep strangled groan as he feels your walls tremble against him and the weight of your pleasure floods into him while you release yourself into his mouth. He drinks it all in, savoring each drop of your essence like sweet sweet honey.

When he pulls back with a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he admires your trembling figure, basking in the lingering waves of pleasure that ripple throughout your body. His own breath is ragged and his azure eyes are darkened with desire, yet glimmering with satisfaction as he licks his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me,” he murmurs, “Could watch you all day, princess. We’re just getting started.”

You close your eyes for a moment as you attempt to catch your breath, but they instantly flutter open as you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. You watch as Satoru sheds his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso – his muscles flexing with each movement. He fumbles with the belt of his pants, his hands desperate and impatient to free his aching length. The buckle clinks softly as he releases it from the loop and Satoru lets out a sigh of relief as he unleashes himself from the confines of his pants.

Biting your lip, you cannot take your eyes off of him. His evident erection throbs in front of you. You can’t believe how big it is. It’s girth thick, it’s length long with a flushed red tip, glistening from a pooling drop of precum, aching to be touched.

Satoru grips his length, rubbing the slit of his head as the bottom of his thumb slides over the bead of clear liquid. He pumps himself slowly a few times in preparation, his words dripping with confidence as he promises, “I’m going to make you scream my name.”

A hand sinks on the mattress beside your head, bracing himself as he leans in closer. His body is coiled with need and tense with anticipation, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he holds himself over you and strokes his cock, inching it closer to your cunt. He gazes down at you intently, his eyes dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of your flushed body lying underneath him.

You feel the head of his erection circle around your lower lips, teasing you with brief moments of collision before momentarily pulling back. As he rubs himself against your already sensitive clit, a soft gasp escapes your mouth and you moan sweetly, squirming underneath him as you feel the heat and wetness of your combined passion beginning to blend together at your entrance.

His breath hitches and his grip on the sheets tighten as he leans closer. "So sensitive for me, princess," his breath is hot against your ear, dripping with desire. "You feel so good under me like this. I want to hear all of your moans as I bring you to the brink of ecstasy.”

His hips continue their gentle press against yours, his movements a delicious tease that borders on the edge of pleasure and frustration as he heightens the friction upon your reactive clit. Your body trembles beneath him with every touch, “Please ‘toru,” you whimper, “I’ve been wanting you inside me. Please, please fuck me.”

A low growl of approval escapes his lips at the sound of your begging – he pauses his movements, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks down at you, his arms caging both sides of your head now, trapping you beneath him as he stares down at you with lascivious hunger.

"Mmm, my sweet girl," he purrs, his tone laced with a mixture of affection and lust. “You begging me like that, it's driving me crazy. How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

He moves closer, body pressing insistently against yours as he pushes your knees up to your chest. “I’ll give you exactly what you want, princess,” his voice dropping to a silky whisper. You arch your back as he finally sinks into you, thrusting his length into your cunt without any hesitance – parting your pretty folds as the warmth of him is welcomed against your plush wet walls.

The heat of his shaft is hot and his girth is eruptive, causing your breath to catch in your throat. You watch him shudder as he slides into you – a low rumble of satisfaction escaping his throat as your walls clamp down on his thick length. “Fuuck,” the words rolling off his tongue in a low growl, “you are so tight. God, you feel so good.”

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he completely bottoms out inside of you. The heat of your combined passion melding together as you fully become one with him – his member pressing hard against your cervix.

“Nngh ‘toru… it’s big. Feel like I’m going to tear apart,” your body trembles beneath him and your gasps and moans are like a symphony of pleasure, fueling his own primal need. Your hands tangle in his hair, fingers brushing against his undercut and grasping for his ivory locks.

His head dips down, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he relishes in the feeling of you wrapped around him. “I know baby, I know,” he breathes, his voice hot and damp against your skin, “But don’t worry you’re doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks, the deep timbre of his voice and the hunger in his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you – his words a mix of praise and desperation.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his hair falling over his forehead, framing his face in a wild untamed way while his gaze is filled with a fierce desire. "Gonna start moving now, sweetheart," he grumbles huskily, both a reassurance and a command. "You ready for me?"

Your eyes roll back as you feel his movements begin, slow and deliberate. His hands slide down your body, caressing your curves and gripping your hips, pulling you even closer against him. Breathy moans escape your lips as each thrust inside you has his cock kissing your cervix with insistent and measured pressure, causing you to arch your back even more against him.

Your pitch rises as your gasps fill the air, causing his own desire to surge with each needy sound echoing off the walls of your room. His hips grind in a steady, relentless rhythm as he rocks against you, his chest vibrating with a deep rumble of approval as he presses you into the mattress – clenching your hips tightly while his body envelops you. He takes deep trembling breaths as he relishes in the sounds of you writhing under him. Every shift of his body brings a new wave of pleasure to crash over you.

His eyes remain fixated on your face with each thrust, studying every expression and reaction. The heat from his skin sears against yours, each point of contact igniting a fresh wave of electricity through your body. He hungrily drinks in the sight of you, flushed and needy, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "God, you're so – ha – beautiful like this," he groans, his voice low and strangled. "So perfect."

He quickens the pace, his breath becoming strained as he increases the friction between your bodies, his own moans growing louder and more frenzied with each thrust as he feels his own desire driving him wild – his cock getter harder as he feels your pussy milk him, an overwhelming pressure building within him.

“Fuuuuck baby, fuck,” he manages to rasp out as his hands move to your chest, cupping your breasts as he begins to caress and kneed them, rubbing soft circles around your nipples, twisting and rolling them with his fingers. His own breath comes in short gasps as your hot wet walls consume his cock, squelching sounds filling the air with each thrust. He feels a desperate need boiling inside him – the need to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Every time he feels you tighten around him, he struggles more and more to hold back the overwhelming pleasure coiled within him. His strokes begin to become erratic, less controlled and more urgent. The slaps of your colliding bodies fill the air, along with your sweet whimpers and moans. A low growl escapes his lips as he captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head against the bed. He leans in closer, his body hovering over you, his eyes locking with yours in a heated stare.

“S-Satoru…” you mewl.

“You like that?” he groans, biting gently onto your shoulder while grinding into you harder. “Fuuuck, I can feel you squeezing my dick...”

His increased pace creates a delicious friction that steals the breath from your lungs. You feel his cock rub against your clit with every thrust into you, the vibrations causing a shiver of pleasure to ripple through your body, relishing in the feeling of being completely full of him.

“Don’t stop… nngh, yesyesyes SatoruI’m so close.”

He grits his teeth as you continue to squeeze around him, your pussy milking him like an expert. With a low growl, he clutches your hips tighter and increases his pace even more, his hips moving with a primal rhythm that matches the beat of your hearts. His eyes flare with determination at your words, responding instantly to your pleas.

“Shit, your cunt is gonna be the death of me...” he groans loudly, feeling his orgasm building quickly within him. “Let go for me,” he growls, reaching down to tease your clit with his thumb. “Cum all over my cock baby...”

The sensation of his thumb on your clit brings you over the edge as you writhe in ecstasy. Your hands grip Satoru's back as your nails dig into his skin, carving down on his flesh as your plush walls clamp onto his cock - screaming his name as your essence coats his shaft with pleasure.

"Nnhh, oh fu-u-ck," he grits out, his voice choked and rough, his body shaking with pleasure from the sight of you, coming undone beneath him – the feeling of you covering his cock with your release, it’s enough to push Satoru over the edge.

With a strangled moan of pleasure, Satoru gives into the sensations overwhelming him – spilling his load deep inside you, plunging you with his hot sticky seed as ropes of white cum paint your insides. His cock pulses against your walls and he grunts as he rides out his orgasm, pumping his load until there was nothing left.

He looks down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness, his body heavy and spent as he tries to regain control of himself. He quivers with pleasure as he pulls out his sensitive limp cock, his thick white cum oozing out of you, dripping down your thighs.

"God, princess," he gasps, his voice thick with exhaustion. "You drive me wild." He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving against your own, his heartbeat rapid and erratic as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

Your panting breaths mingle together as you gently brush your fingers through Satoru’s hair, tenderly massaging his scalp while you hold him close. “Hmm,” a satisfied hum escapes you. “Guess I am your weakness.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm, murmuring against your skin. "You figured it out.” Melting into your touch, Satoru holds you close and nestles himself further – embracing you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, inhaling the scent of your skin. “You definitely are, always have been."

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies – but you can’t help but let your mind race a bit. Thoughts of Suguru tug at the corners of your mind. You haven’t mentioned him to Satoru since that night, when you told him about the crimes he committed. You had a strong desire to catch up to Satoru, you don’t want to be his weakness, his downfall. You want to stand beside him as an equal – you want him to come to rely on you just as you rely on him.

“Hey ‘toru…” you speak softly and seriously as you continue to run soothing circles on his scalp. “Whatever happens next… you don’t have to do it alone.”

His eyes flutter open as he feels the shift in your demeanor, the change in the air. He can sense the seriousness in your tone and the concern in your touch. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his own gaze softening slightly at the worry he sees reflecting back at him. For a moment, he is silent, contemplating your words and the weight behind them.

Finally, he lets out a sigh and nods, his expression growing more pensive. "I know I don't have to," he says. "But it's not about me. It's about everyone else, about doing everything I can to protect them… to protect you."

A wry solemn smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Typical Satoru, putting himself last. There was no sense in arguing with him right now. Instead, you were going to work ever harder – to push yourself to catch up with him. One day you’d make him rely on you, and then you’d both face Suguru together. Shaking your head slightly as a sigh escapes your lips, you bring your hand to Satoru’s cheek as you softly caress his face. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He grins at your words, the corner of his lipa curling up in amusement. "Yep, that's me," he replies, his tone lighthearted. "Hopeless and in need of saving." He nuzzles his face into your hand, relishing the feeling of your touch on his skin. With a turn of his head, he presses a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before speaking again, "But trust me, princess, I appreciate it. More than you know."

With a fond grin, you let out a sigh and rest your forehead against his own. "Love you, you big dummy."

Satoru rolls his eyes playfully, but his expression softens at your words. Leaning in slightly, he brushes his nose against your own, "Love you too, you stubborn pain in the ass," he teases, and then he captures your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss – his hand coming up to rest on the side of your face. You let out a hum of contentment, savoring the tender feeling of his lips on yours.

When he pulls away, you let out a small whine of disappointment, only to be greeted with his smirk and the sound of his teasing words. “We should get you cleaned up. I guess you can finally have that bath you’ve been wanting.”

Your eyes light up at the thought, the promise of hot water and steam calling you. A soft huff of laughter escapes your lips and your eyes sparkle with amusement. "About time you remembered," you reply, with mock exasperation. "I was starting to think you were going to make me wait forever.”

"Yeah, yeah" he glints, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "But you know… honestly a bath sounds nice. I could also use a good wash. Especially after all the work you just put me through."

You raise your eyebrow as you can see a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and you snort playfully at his suggestion. "You're just looking for an excuse to soak with me."

Satoru leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours – his breath dances upon your face while he hums at you mischievously with a lazy smirk. "Why, you up for a little more fun in the tub?"

He still had more in him? Biting your lip, you look away from him for a moment as you pretend to think before responding, your tone playful and sultry. "Oh, I dunno, I think I’m pretty tired after all that exertion you made me do."

Satoru’s grin mischievously widens, “I can help you relax, common just let me join you,” he pleas childishly with a slight pout as he nuzzles closer to you with puppy dog eyes.

Your roll your eyes but they quickly betray you as they flicker down to his lips, tantalizingly close to your own. "It depends," you tease, your voice low and alluring. "Can you behave yourself in there?”

His eyes rove over your body, taking in each curve and contour as an unwavering smile spreads across his face. "Behave myself? That's a pretty big ask, princess. But for you, I'll try my best." He leans in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he speaks. "But no guarantees," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

∘₊✧

"Fuck baby," he grunts through clenched teeth, "That's it... Just like that..." He pushes his member into your mouth, eyes half lidded in pleasure.

It is clear that Satoru had no intention of cleaning up. The sounds of his moans echo off the tile of the bathroom, steam enveloping your bodies as it creates a veil of warmth around you. Satoru’s groans heighten as you wrap your lips around him, taking him in deeper and deeper with each bob of your head. Your tongue swirls expertly around the sensitive underside of his shaft while your fingers trace teasing patterns along his balls. Muffled sounds escape your lips as he thrusts gently into your warm mouth.

Satoru’s hands cradle the sides of your head as he pulls you closer – his hips bucking forward. “Mmm.. that’s it…,” he hisses as he watches your lips stretch around his length. His fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you steady, thrusting himself deeper into you.

The sounds of the bath water rippling underneath you with each thrust, the grunts of Satoru’s pleasure and your muffled moans fill the air. His fingers tighten their grip on your hair, guiding your movements. Suddenly, he pulls back just enough, teasing the head of his cock across your plump lips, giving you a moment to breathe as you pant on his aching arousal.

“You’re so cute taking all of me like this. Fuck, your mouth feels better than I imagined. Been wanting to do this for a long time,” he murmurs breathily while his hand reaches down to gently stroke your cheekbone before lifting your chin up to look at him. He rakes in every inch of you with a mixture of pleasure and adoration – drinking in the sight of you, lips plump and pink while slightly parted.

“I’ve been wanting you too ‘toru..” you hum in pleasure, a tingling ache pooling between your thighs as you’re satisfied in how desperate he looks for you – you flick your tongue out and swirl it around the slit on his weeping tip, savoring in the taste of his precum as his head rolls back slightly from the sensation.

Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sensational gasp of pleasure from your tongue, dancing tantalizingly over the sensitive head of his cock. A shiver racks through his body down to his spine and a rumble of satisfaction vibrates in his chest. The sound he makes sends a thrill throughout your body – you smile around him, your tongue swirling in a way that drives him wild.

“You're too good at this...” he grunts out between ragged breaths. “Getting too close, I need to cum inside of you,” he rasps and suddenly pulls away, grabbing you as he spins you around. He pushes you forward onto the side of the tub and lines himself up with your soaking entrance.

You whine and welcome him eagerly as you rub his member between your slick folds, bent over and craving him as you coat his tip with your sweet essence. “Nnnm, need you inside me, please ‘toru.”

He grins down at you with a sly smirk plastered on his lips. “So needy, what happened to being too tired princess?” and with a swift motion he plunges his cock deep into your wet pussy once again, causing a sharp gasp to escape your throat that slowly turns into a needy moan. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he grips your hips tightly.

Leaning himself over your back, Satoru’s hand snakes around your waist and cups one of your breasts firmly, kneading it as he presses kisses along your neck. His warm breath plays upon your ear as he begins to move. “Good girl, taking me whole,” he purrs, “gonna fill you up again.”

Feeling the warmth of your slick walls enveloping him sends a wave of pleasure coursing through his body – he begins moving rhythmically, each thrust met by a symphony of soft gasps and lewd squelches echoing throughout the bathroom.

"Nnngh, – you feel – ha – so good ‘toru " you gasp, your voice coming out in short, breathless sighs, each one a testament to the pleasure coursing through you. Satoru revels in making such erotic sounds escape your lips, it fuels a primal passion within him and drives him even more over the edge.

Groaning in pure pleasure, Satoru wastes no time picking up his pace – each forceful thrust making your body bounce enticingly on the waterline of the bathtub, sending waves of satisfying splashes to cascade against the sides of the tub.

His hand on your breast searches for your nipples, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You can feel the intensity building within you, the pleasure mounting with each passing moment – arching your back from each satisfying sensation, you push yourself deeper against his shaft and moan. “Yesyesyes, I’m so close ‘toru.”

He can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, signaling your impending climax. With a smirk, Satoru increases his pace even further, driving himself deeper into your quivering depths. His other hand slips down to tease your clit, rubbing small circles around it while he continues to pound deeper into your dripping cunt with each stroke. “That's it... let go, princess,” he murmurs into your ear before biting down gently on the lobe.

You gasp as his throbbing member hits deep against your cervix, and the combined stimulation of your sensitive bud sends you over the edge to ecstasy – your body a live wire of pleasure. You cry out Satoru’s name loudly, a mantra of pleasure and surrender, fingers digging into the edge of the tub, gasping and shuddering through your orgasm as your clamp your walls down on him, coating his cock with your sweet messy release.

Savoring each ripple of your inner muscles gripping onto Satoru’s aching length with such delicious fervor, he feels you milking every last drop out of him until he finally surrenders to his own building orgasm. His strokes become erratic as he chases his climax, driven wild by the sight and sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls, adding fuel to his own burning desires.

“Fuuuck – ha – ‘m gonna cum.” His balls tighten as he releases his hot seed deep into your quivering cunt, spurting forth in hot streams, filling you up until you’re dripping with your combined pleasure. Holding onto your hips tightly, he rides out every last pulse of pleasure until finally collapsing.

You fall against the side of the tub, both panting and trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breaths fills the room, the only other sound being the soft slosh of the water around you. He holds you tightly, his body draped over yours while he trails gentle kisses upon your skin, his hot breath dancing on your neck with each shaky exhale. He buries his face in your hair as he attempts to catch his breath. "God, you're... amazing," he mutters.

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your voice raspy and spent. "Hmm~ you're not so bad yourself," a tired smile playing at the corners of your lips as you feel the exhaustion and blissfulness settling in your bones. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against yours.     

He lets out a soft chuckle, his own breath still coming out in short, ragged gasps. "Not bad? I'll have to try harder next time," he teases, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. As he adjusts your position slightly, his arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer against him like a protective cocoon as you sit back in the tub.

His skin is hot and slick against your own and his heart beats softly against your back – a steady reassuring rhythm in the stillness. He leans in closer, his lips finding the spot just below your ear, "God, I can't get enough of you," he murmurs.

Feeling yourself melt into his arms, your body relaxes against his in a comfortable heap. You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his embrace. “Good," you murmur back, your voice drowsy with contentment. “No more pulling that shit where you leave me high and dry, okay?”

He chuckles lightly at your response, his chest vibrating against your back as he laughs. "No more leaving you high and dry, I promise," he reassures you, his tone serious. Planting a kiss on your shoulder, he runs his thumb gently over your hip, his touch soothing and comforting as he mutters. "Never gonna leave you hanging like that again. I swear."

∘₊✧

As the warm sun peers through the blinds of your windowsill, you grumble as you sleepily rub your eyes. "Satoru?" you mutter and reach out, searching for his warmth, but all you feel is the cold, empty sheets beside you where he used to be. Your eyes flutter open, and you squint against the glare of the sunlight streaming in. “Satoru?” you mutter again, your voice still thick with sleep. You frown suddenly deepens as you realize that he's not here. The silence is deafening. There is no way, right? He wouldn’t do this again?

You spring out from your bed and briskly walk down the hallway, unable to hide the desperation in your voice and the tears that begin to slowly well up in your eyes as you call him again “Satoru?” Your stride freezes as you hear the clattering on pots and pans coming from the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafting in the air.

Relief washes over you, followed by a surge of slight irritation. How dare he leave you in bed alone again, worried about where he disappeared to. You walk briskly to the kitchen and see Satoru standing at the stove – the early morning light casting a warm glow on his disheveled hair. He is dressed in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants, cooking breakfast as if nothing happened, looking all too domestic with a spatula in one hand and a mug in the other. How does he always manage to look so damn attractive while aggravating the hell out of you at the same time?

He turns slightly at the sound of your footsteps, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he chirps, as if he wasn’t just mysteriously absent moments ago – his casualness only fueling your annoyance.

“Satoru Gojo, I swear to God,” your voice is tinged with frustration and relief as you grab the throw pillow from the couch and hurl it at him – only for it to hit an invisible barrier and fall to the ground, Satoru stopping it with his infinity, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Hey, hey, now. No need to throw things at me. I was just making you some breakfast." He holds up the spatula in one hand and the coffee mug in the other, looking entirely too innocent.

✧ahhh, something about satoru being a big clueless idiot but meaning well :') hope ya'll enjoyed this! thanks for reading ♡

taglist: @haychhans @mysticnozel @luvrsbian @xxxxwhatsername @imonhereforareasonsadly @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryistheg @skyahri @genshingeeksworld @seilahtitania32 @strychnynegirl

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch4

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3

Warning: MINORS DNI, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

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"This is the big bad CEO's office," Lyla said with a wide smile as she stood proudly in front of the large set of doors.

Your eyes could only widen as you thought of the man behind those doors. Such a powerful person was able to make Alchemax what it was. This was going to be your future boss. As nervous as you were, you had to make a good first impression!

"Stop scaring the new girl,"

Your ears perked up as you recognized the voice. Your breathing nearly halted as the doors began to open, revealing Miguel.

"Huh? Miguel? Y-You're...You're the C-CEO?"

Your heart stilled for a moment as you recalled everything you had done. Your clumsiness for bumping into the CEO on your interview day, chatting with him so casually in the elevator and showing every form of weakness possible.

As you heart started to gain pace, your chest swelled with regret. It was difficult, but you held back your tears. Noticing the treat on his desk, you immediately bowed your head,

"I-I'm so...so sorry! I-I-"

"There is no need to apologize. It is I who should give my apologies. I was the one who deceived you." Miguel said with a smile.

"Ew, your smiling." Lyla muttered.

As Miguel bickered lowly with Lyla, you still felt your head spinning a mile a minute.

"Anyway-" Miguel gently shoved Lyla to the side, "I was more so enjoying the presence of someone who did not know who I was, which led me to fooling you. For that, I apologize."

"Ah-" You gasped, finally letting yourself breathe, "S-So...was I hired...because of...of my skill or-"

"Duuuuuh, girl. This guy doesn't know the meaning of special treatment. He's just a big oaf." Lyla pitched in with a smug eating grin. Miguel could only grumble to her response,

"Please ignore her statements about me. I look forward to working with you from now on. As you know, Lyla will be going on vacation very soon. During this time she will guide you on everything you will have to do. That is, if you are still willing-"

"Yes! Yes I am!" You nearly shouted before covering your mouth, "S-Sorry, I am. I really want to better...myself and you have given me this um, opportunity."

Glancing up at Miguel, you felt butterflies in your stomach as he smiled towards you.

"I'm glad to hear that." His voice was still so gentle, "Well, I have a meeting I must get ready for. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and we will see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Y-Yes!"

-----------

Miguel was the CEO. Miguel was the CEO. MIGUEL WAS THE CEO OF ALCHEMAX! AND I MADE A FOOL OF MYSELF!

The thoughts raged through your mind as you quietly sat on the bus on your way home. Biting your nail, you tried to calm down, but it was no use. Despite Miguel being so kind to you, you still couldn't stop from recalling your foolishness.

You had to make it up to him.

You HAD too.

------------

"Why are you being so nice?" Lyla asked once the two entered Miguel's office.

"Am I not human?" Miguel said with a snort, "Is it so wrong of me to treat another with kindness? I am surrounded by selfish fools and greedy bastards every second of the day. It is nice to have a change."

"Yeah, but I really don't want to see her bend over on your desk crying your name out when I come back."

"Lyla!" Miguel felt his cheeks burn, "You know me better than that."

"I do. Which is why I'm totally predicting a few outcomes."

"You have little faith in me,"

Miguel sat at his desk and let out a heavy sigh. As nice as he may have seemed to you, Lyla was not wrong. As a man, Miguel already had a thought, though for a mere second, of you under him. The face you might make when he shoved his dick inside those walls of yours.

"You're totally thinking about it now, gross." Lyla chuckled, "You're lucky she's a quiet one, but....that's also a problem."

Clearing his throat, Miguel rid himself of those naughty thoughts as he listened to Lyla.

"I know. (Y/n) will get eaten alive by my business partners. I'm sure you can find a way to boost her confidence in this short amount of time."

"Against those horny old bastards? Duh," Lyla hummed before plopping herself against Miguel's couch, "It's her I'm more worried about."

"She hasn't-"

"Every women who tries to enter your life has fled because of her. You're lucky I have the biggest pair of balls in his city to even stand a chance against that snake."

"I recall...I wonder if she still has your bite marks-"

"Bitch better! They were sharp and clean from my dental appointment!" Lyla huffed before fixing her hair, "But even so, not even I am capable of preparing someone against her. I fear that your new assistant will be eaten alive."

"Then I'll be the only one of us to have faith in (Y/n)."

"Hm,"

-----------

Miguel inhaled deeply as he stood against his balcony, enjoying the quiet night. It felt strange to not be so stressed out after a long day of work. Taking a sip of his drink, Miguel couldn't help but recall your expression from earlier.

You looked like a deer caught in headlights once Miguel revealed himself. Your face turned bright red and your words fumbling with each other. It was cute. Miguel assumed that you were overthinking and panicked.

But, he still had faith in you. You hadn't made any sort of move to try and win him over yet. Most tend to try and meet with Miguel after hours. Instead, you sent another apology email for your actions and for the salty snack.

"How has such a little mouse survived this long? In this city of predators like myself?"

Humming to the thought, Miguel also recalled that 'snake' that Lyla brought up. All Miguel had to do was hide your existence for the next few months and you'll be fine.

"Hm, but will she be fine against me?"

---------

It was day two of you officially working at Alchemax. Lyla was going to show you the ropes.

However, you had to get Miguel's morning coffee.

"Miguel turns into such a grumpy beast when he doesn't have his coffee. I've already memorized his order, but I wrote it down for you along with the place we get it from. I also put my order on there, and feel free to get yourself something."

"A-Are you sure? This is the company card." You stuttered, feeling a little nervous about a simple coffee run.

"It's Miguel's card and he doesn't mind. Once we've all had our energy, I'll start showing you the first morning tasks."

"Okay,"

You tried to stop shaking as you put the card and paper in your wallet. Hurrying downstairs, you tried to calm down. This was your first unofficial task for Miguel. A simple coffee run. How bad could it really be?

------

You shuddered as you stood in front of your old job. Your hands trembling as you held the piece of paper in your hand. You hardly worked this early in the morning, so it would make sense why you never thought of Alchemax workers getting their coffee from here.

Hell, you hardly even noticed how close the two jobs were to one another.

Inhaling deeply, you made your way inside. Sweat rolled down your neck as you saw your old co-workers in the middle of a rush. Each of them yelling out orders and ingredients. As long as they stayed busy and didn't notice you, it would be fine.

"Wel-Oh! (Y/n)! Nice of you to join us."

And there was the hostility.

"What?! She's here?! After she didn't show up for my shift yesterday?!"

"....I....quit...." You whispered, trying to hide behind the line of people waiting for their order.

"Well since you're here, clock in and help us."

"I....can't," You tried to say.

Didn't your manager tell everyone that you quit? You made sure to call them last night to inform them that you weren't going to work there anymore. You quit this toxic job for Alchemax. So why, why is everyone still so harsh?

"(Y/N)! We need the help!" Another coworker yelled out.

You were shaking as everyone started to stare at you. The paper in your hand starting to crumble as you shook. They didn't need your help. You were just going to make a mess with how busy it was. They just wanted to yell at you.

"I-I can't! I'm just here for my new job!" You nearly cried out.

"Tch, what a liar."

And there it was. You lowered your head as the line kept moving. The stares you were getting were intense. Everyone probably thought that you were an asshole. As you waited, you felt your phone buzz.

"H-Hello?" You stuttered.

"Ah! (Y/N)! I hope it isn't too late, could you-"

"(Y/N)! I heard from the others that you refuse to help, especially after not showing up yesterday. We need to have a word in my office." Your morning manager hissed.

"B-But...I-I-"

"It seems busy. I'll text you the item." Lyla said before hanging up.

Oh, how you wanted to cry. What were you to do? You could never stand up to the managers. Why didn't the night manager inform everyone that you quit?

"To. My. Office."

"What seems to be the problem?"

Your breathing hitched as you turned to find Miguel. You couldn't hold back the tears as Miguel placed his hand against your shoulder. It was amazing. Everyone immediately froze as they stared at your new boss. Were you the only one who didn't know that he was the CEO?

"You're-" Your manager snapped out of his shocked state, "I was just going to handle my associate about her teamwork and customer service."

"Your associate?" Miguel scoffed, "From my understanding and resources, she quit your establishment last night. (Y/n) works for me now. If this shop doesn't wish to treat my associates fairly, then Alchemax will gladly take our business elsewhere." Miguel said firmly, motioning you to follow him out.

"I'm sorry, sir! We weren't aware that she quit. Please, allow us to make you your drink on the house-"

"We don't need your charity. Instead, apologize to her."

"S-Sir, I...I really-"

"Don't let them talk down to you as if you're nothing," Miguel whispered in your ear, "You deserve to be treated fairly."

As if something was stuck in your throat, you could only nod towards Miguel. Glancing towards your old manager, you waited for his forced apology. You still didn't like the stares. You knew that you could never come back here after this.

It took a minute, but your old manager finally apologized. Miguel just smirked before walking you out of the shop. Finally feeling like you could breathe, you turned to face Miguel once you were a good distance away.

"I-I'm sorry for causing t-trouble...B-But...How did you know I-I was there?" You asked with a stutter. Miguel removed his hand from your shoulder,

"I normally come in a little late to give Lyla her 'beauty time' as I call it. It also gives her time to get my morning coffee without having to rush. I tend to take this route every now and then and couldn't help but notice you in the café."

"I'm sorry I'm being a burden already," Frowning as you lowered your head, you stared at the crumbled paper in your hand, "I couldn't even get this right-"

"Don't cry," Miguel hushed, lifting your chin, "You can't blame yourself for the foolish acts of others."

"I'm sorry," You whimpered once more. Miguel just let out a soft sigh, wiping a tear away,

"Come. I don't have a meeting for another hour or so. Why don't we spend some time looking for a new coffee shop? I wouldn't want you going back to that hostile place."

Watching Miguel hold his arm out, you sniffed as you calmed down. Lyla said that Miguel was a beast without his coffee, but he was still ever so kind to you. Taking his arm, you gladly took Miguel's offer as you spent some time getting to know your new boss.

---------

Lyla pouted as she sat in her office, staring at the clock.

"Where the hell is my coffee?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

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[lushaletta]

the objective and persuasive / theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

summary: a tale of forbidden romance through the eyes of a lovesick theodore nott

a/n: what is this?!?! ivy actually WRITING??? unheard of! anyway.. i still do not have my ipad so my tom riddle miniseries will be on hold for a bit :( i still have more i wanna say for it! in the meantime, you may have some horrible writing in the form of my theodore nott debut! lorenzo zurzolo fine ASFFF okay bye enjoy

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Theodore Nott is very intelligent. Maybe he’s a slacker. Maybe he puts off homework until it’s being collected during class. Maybe he has a bad habit of poor time management. But what Theodore has never been is stupid.

So why is he still here, hopelessly barking up a fruitless tree?

“Please, I just want to be with you,” he’s slurring, drunk on too much whiskey and a side of love.

You cup his face in your hands, wondering how in Merlin’s name you have Slytherin’s smartest boy with his knees on your feet, fingers clinging onto yours. It’s truly senseless; for he knows the circumstance. He knows what will happen if this is taken further. He knows it cannot be.

And yet, his hands drop to your sides, running up and down as they ride up your dress. “It’s impossible, Theo,” you say, matter-of-factly. You’ve always been quite the objective.

You swear his eyes gloss over. “Bella— oh, God, I can’t. Why don’t we make this fucking real? Be my girlfriend already.”

A sigh escapes your plush lips, the smeared makeup on it looking much nicer to Theo knowing it’s he who ruined it.

“Don’t be difficult. For my sake.”

He throws his head down, grip tightening on your hips, “What about my sake? It hurts. It hurts so bad. I just need you.”

“You need sleep.”

Theodore will regret this all in the morning. He will come to his senses and remember all the reasons a relationship with you would be futile. But for now, he’s fallen at your feet, begging like only a fool would.

And it’s hard. So hard to keep your composure. To not pull him up and into your arms and avow him forever.

Your gaze darts away quickly. You’ve had your fair share of alcohol as well and your judgement is beginning to cloud. His face wouldn’t help anything.

“I am yours. I promise. If the issue is that you doubt my loyalty, you don’t have to. I’m devoted,” he drawls, searching your eyes for any sign of weakness. He finds none.

“Theodore, please, get up,” you urge, pulling on his fingers and willing him to stand— to make it all a little less painful.

He’s firm. “Not until we try and make this work. Not until you promise.”

To crumble sounds appealing. You’d rather be the pile of mush on one’s feet than the villain to resist. Your resolve is shattering, piece by piece, with every word that leaves his mouth.

“Theo, we’ve been over this.”

He tightens his grip on your hips. “I don’t fucking care what my father has to say about it! I’ll fucking kill him! I’ll do anything for you to consider me.”

Again, you pull him up, hoping he’ll stand. At first he’s resistant, and then he sees the look you’re giving him.

He’s finally upright, now towering over you and still you don’t feel any smaller. He’d give you control if you only parted your lips to say so.

You clash against him, pulling him in for a kiss he didn’t expect. He half-thought you’d turn him away but with your haphazard attempts at silencing him, he should’ve known. He’s always been quite the persuasive.

Theodore grabs your face, swishing his thumb over your cheek with adoration to rival Romeo’s with Juliet. He’s holding you as if you’re going to disappear.

You scoff at the thought, like you’d ever disappear on him. You’re in knee-deep, letting his right hand travel your back, sending shivers down your spine and heat to your stomach.

“I love you, Theo.”

And while it’s not a promise to try, the man takes what he can get.