#sigh. when the family is found and stupid

[keto-keyes]

A mother's love - Bruce Wayne x Reader, BatMum!Reader, Batfam x reader

[Part 1]

Damian Wayne wasn't a problem child. Definitely not. He wasn't hanging off chandeliers (that was Dick), dying (Jason), running a crime ring (also Jason), hacking government seals (Tim), wasting his life on a caffeine addiction (mostly Tim, but sometimes Cass), or at all bothering his family. So it was very surprising to his step-mother, Y/N Y/L/N-Wayne, when he stormed into her room seemingly mid-tantrum. "It's stupid. Absurd. Maddening, even," grumbled the young heir, flopping onto Y/N's four-poster bed, "It's unthinkable, making me do something I do not wish to do."

Y/N spun around in her desk chair, smiling slightly while also concerned. "Those are some pretty big words," she observed light-heartedly, "What's so 'unthinkable', Damian? Who's making you do something you don't want to?"

Damian practically leapt into her arms when she sat down beside him, still grumbling that "it wasn't ethical". But Y/N had no idea what 'it' was, and only a minute later she was following him out into the corridor with an extremely confused expression glued to her face.

She found Tim leant against the wall next to her bedroom door, arms crossed and wearing a somewhat bemused grimace. "What's he crying over?" she asked, "Something absurd, I gathered, but he didn't say what."

"Uhh, Thalia wants to have him for a week, but the lil sh-t doesn't wanna go," Tim explained, a tinge of mischief in his voice.

"I thought he adored Thalia!" Y/N exclaimed in pure disbelief, "Heck, even I adore her! And I'm just a superfan!"

Tim chuckled lightly, still grinning. At the exact same time, Duke appeared from the opposite direction Damian had gone. He too leaned against the wall and grimaced. "He interrupted my daily Animal Crossing Island Tour just to fret about leaving you for a week," Duke sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets.

[lieslab]

Go fish

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: You decide to go on a fishing trip with your boyfriend, not realizing that it means you have to actually fish.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Which member of management do I have to fight to let Minho make a fishing video? Let him show us his skills. I haven't forgotten that he's wanted to make one for a while now. Until it happens, I imagine it'd go something like this if you were there and hated fishing.

_ _ _

“This is the worst day of my life,” you mumbled beneath your breath. 

Across from you, Minho looked over with an unamused frown. “Hey, I heard that. I don’t know what you’re talking about. This morning, you were so excited to come with me on this trip. I told you what we’d be doing, but you were all like ‘no, I want to go! It’ll be so much fun!’” He kicked his leg up and waved his hands around to mock you. 

“Don’t belittle me. That was before I found out you were going to use actual worms. That’s disgusting.” 

His dark eyes squinted. “How else do you plan on catching fish? Have you been watching too much American TV? Are we going to go fishing with our bare hands?” 

“I thought you were using rubber ones!” 

“The correct term is fishing lures.” 

With a huff, you silently pouted beside him. High on his own amusement, he popped the plastic lid off the worms he purchased twenty minutes ago. His solo fishing trip turned into a duo trip. Never in a million years did he think you’d join him for something like this, but here you were beside him. 

Your nose scrunched up in disgust. The pink-noodle worm squirmed along his fingers. Bits of damp dirt clung to its naked body. With the lid off the container, the wet mildew smell floated your way. You pinched your nose and turned around. “How can fish eat that? It stinks.” 

“For the same reason you like blue cheese, you think it tastes good.” 

You shot him another glare. He grinned, held out the worm in your direction, and let it dangle. “So do you think you can bait your own pole or should I do it?” 

“You do it. I don’t want to be responsible for causing the worm pain. It’s going to give me nightmares.” 

“It’s a worm.” 

“And hooking the worm is going to hurt it. Don’t you have ear piercings? You know what it feels like to be pricked with a needle. It hurts.” 

He sighed, attached the worm on the string, and casted the string out into the murky water. “You know how a bobber works, right? You know how to reel in a fish slowly and then-” 

“Okay, just because I didn’t want to put the worm on the hook, it doesn’t make me stupid.” You grabbed the pole from him, headed towards the edge of the bank, and focused on the white and red bobber. 

“You’re going to be in a world of trouble when I pull out the fileting knife.” 

“I’m going to filet you.” 

“Tough talk from the person who couldn’t put a worm on a hook.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him and took your attention back to the bobber. Your feet dug in the oversized grass and you stayed quiet. Behind you, Minho began to set up a new fishing pole for himself. Attached with a worm and a hook, he set up a few feet away from you and threw out his own line. 

For months, he spent so long talking about how eager he had been to go fishing. When the cold cleared up and the sun began to warm South Korea, he planned a fishing trip. He never planned for you to tag along, but you insisted. 

He didn’t find your presence annoying, but rather amusing. For as long as he dated you, you were a little more sensitive. Your ideal free time wasn’t spent fishing, but rather hanging out with your friends or watching Netflix. He started to pack up when you asked if you could join him, but he agreed instantly. 

He learned how to fish years ago. Childhood was full of his parents, family friends, and his own friends trying to see who could catch the largest fish. Bets were made. Recipes changed over time. The wholesomeness and memories created, they were irreplaceable. 

Something about taking the time out of your day, catching the food, preparing it, and consuming it; it made everything extra special. The taste of fresh fish, not everyone could recreate that flavor. The extra work made it all worth it. 

“It’s moving! I caught something! I caught something!” 

Your voice broke him from his own bobber. He glanced over and, sure enough, your bobber slowly moved towards the bank. With each rotation of the handle, you tugged it closer and closer. Water splashed, a yellow webbed tail smacked the water, and disappeared beneath the surface again. 

He dropped his pole and hurried over to you. “Do you have it?” 

“Yeah, but whatever it is, it’s huge. I can feel the weight on the end of the line.” You continued to slowly bring it in. When it jerked and the bobber tugged, Minho leaned over to assist you. 

After a few moments, the tip of a face popped out from the surface. Beady rotten eyes caught yours. A mouth opened and shut. Sunlight reflected off the glimmering scales. 

“No fucking way,” he mumbled. 

“What? What is it?” 

“Hang onto it, I’m going to get the net!” He spun around and hurried back to his car. A metal hoop laced with a black net and a long handle. 

You gagged when the fish splashed water. Water splashed over your legs, soaked your shoes, and seeped into your socks. You grumbled, feeling disgusting, but kept your hold on the handle. 

Minho rushed back, trailing through the grass. The netting disappeared through the water, tucked beneath the murky surface, he clung to whatever you caught, and yanked it up. His eyes widened when he brought the fish to the surface. “Oh my god.” 

“Why is it that size? Are fish supposed to be that big? Is that normal? Is it sick?” 

The seriousness of the moment chipped away with your concern. His infectious laughter filled the air. “You c-caught-” He burst into another round of laughter. 

“It’s not funny!” You cried out. “Why is he that big? Minho, he’s like a fucking giant! Is it normal?” 

He nearly dropped the net back into the water. Sniffling, he wiped at one of his eyes. “This is what we call a Common Carp. I don’t know how you managed to catch one this size. It’s got to be over ten pounds, at least.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“It means that we don’t have to spend hours searching for dinner.” 

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped. “We’re going to eat him?” 

“It’s a fish. You don’t know the sex, but yes. We’re going to eat this fish. Do you think I came out to catch fish for fun? If I’m going to put a hook through the mouth, I’m going to consume a fish or two.” 

You grumbled and groaned. Like a lost puppy, you followed Minho back up the bank. The mildew colored fish’s mouth opened and shut, trying to gain air. The moment Minho put the net on the ground, it flopped out. 

“No!” He cried out and reached for it. The wiggling fish managed to avoid his grasp. Squirming and flopping back in the direction of the water, you dropped down in front of it on your knees. 

A wet tail slapped a small section of your bare ankle. You gagged, but didn’t pull away. Instead, you stretched out with two hands, dived forward, and pinned the slimy creature to the ground. Fish slime hit your tongue and you nearly lost your lunch. Thankfully, Minho dived forward and took over from there. 

Once he removed the hook, he grabbed the lower jaw and placed it in a large blue bucket of water. And you? Well, you lost it. You gagged and fought against the urge to vomit. Your hands splashed the murky water repeatedly. The scent of wet fish clung to your skin. 

“Are you okay?” Minho called after you. 

“I’m fucking dying. He touched me with his germs! I’m going to have-” You gagged again and spit. You vigorously rubbed your hands against the springy-green grass. “Ew, gross! I can still feel the scaly skin!” 

“You big baby. How are you going to learn to filet a fish, if you can’t handle catching one?” 

“Don’t make me do that. I don’t want to watch! I’m going to-” Another one of your loud gags tipped Minho over the edge. He burst into another fit of laughter and collapsed to his knees. 

“Hey! It’s not-” Another gagging sound brought tears to his eyes. He tried to stop, but you looked so distressed. Fishing had always been normal to him, but you acted like you touched bio-medical waste. Your reaction was so dramatic, he couldn’t help it. 

“Stop laughing at me!” 

“Stop g-gagging!” He shot back, breathlessly. He sucked in a deep breath and tipped his head towards the ground. “I think I’m going to pee myself from laughing so hard.” 

“You’re not helping!”

It took a while for the two of you to contain your composure. He rose back to his feet, grabbed his pole, and started to try to catch another fish. Minutes ticked by, but the water remained still. Not daring to touch your pole again, you walked back to the bucket the carp was in. 

“I’m sorry I caught you.” You plopped down beside him. “Soon, you’ll be in my stomach and I apologize for that. I was trying to do what was best. I didn’t realize we were going to eat you. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have stuck a pole in the water, Mr. Fish. “

“Stop talking to the fish,” Minho called over his shoulder. “It can’t hear you. Fish don’t speak English.” 

“Tough talk for the guy who barely speaks English himself.” 

You didn’t know what he said in Japanese, but you could only assume they were strings of swear words. You sighed, turned back to the bucket, and leaned closer. “I’m really sorry about all this. Soon your suffering will end and-” 

Splash! 

Minho glanced back over his shoulder to see you frantically wiping at your face. “You stupid fucking fish! Screw being nice! I’m going to eat you with zero remorse!” 

Minho blinked, taken back by your sudden change to demeanor.  “What did you-” 

“He splashed me!” You grabbed the edge of your shirt and wiped it over your face. “I’m going to get pink eye or something!” 

He sighed, tipped his head back, and rolled his eyes to the sky. Maybe this would be the first and only time the two of you went on a fishing trip together. Fishing obviously wasn’t your forte. 

After your fight with the fish, and no luck catching another, Minho packed up the pole to go home. You sat in the passenger’s seat with your arms crossed. The bright blue bucket held steadily between your legs. The oversized fish rocked with the sloshing water. 

Silence sat between you and Minho. In his head, he focused on recipes he could make with fresh fish. You avoided looking into the bucket, until you gave up. You sighed and glanced down at the fish. 

“I’m sorry that I said I’d happily eat you. I didn’t mean it. The words came out in the spur of the moment. I grew angry at you because I don’t like fish germs.” 

Only the sound of sloshing water greeted you. You looked further down and your face softened. Beneath the murky water, beady dark eyes met yours. Your heart ached at the idea of being pulled from your home and being forced into such a confined small space. Like being trapped in the jail cell, the fish did nothing to deserve it. 

“Minho?” 

“Huh?” 

“How are you going to kill him?” 

“As humanely as possible. Just because I’m going to filet him, it doesn’t mean I have a black heart. I’m going to show what compassion I can. Just because we’re larger beings and above fish in the food chain, it doesn’t mean I want the fish to die in a tragic way.” 

“I don’t want to watch.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to name him Minnow.” 

“That’s a carp, not a-” 

“Minnow. Short for Mini Lee Know.” You glanced over innocently and smiled. “Because just like him, you’re a pain in my ass too, sometimes.” 

“You’re lucky I love you, you idiot.” 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“You’re on fish cooking duty.” 

“As long as you promise to do the filleting and cleaning, I have no problem doing that.” 

“Wanna scale him?” 

“Over my dead body will I ever touch another disgusting, slimy, wet, smelly fish ever again, bucko.” 

And from that point on, you kept your word; never again. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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Ko-fi

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Thousand Yard Stare Chapter 4

Summary: Bucky Barnes has served his country well, and at a great personal cost.  After being rescued as a prisoner of war, he is struggling as he gets back into civilian life.  His newfound PTSD is severe.  His friends and family try to help, but he needs a lot more than they can give.  His mother signs him up for a Veteran recovery home, where he meets people struggling just like him, and the home director who has her own dark past to deal with.  He might just find love along the way as he searches for peace.

Warnings: mentions of physical assault, violence, being taken prisoner; sexual assault/r@pe; PTSD/anxiety/depression/panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares; suicide/minor character death; eventual smut

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Y/N had already left before anyone had woken up the next morning.  Bucky found it odd, seeing as how she always greeted everyone and had breakfast ready, but this time they were left on their own to handle breakfast.  He felt like the house was colder than usual without her there.  He decided to text her:

Hope you have a fun day with your family.  See you later tonight.  Be safe.

She replied shortly after:

Thanks.  See you later.

He thought her response seemed clipped, but decided not to press her on it.  As he read the text Scott looked over.

“Why did you text her?” Scott asked, looking anxious.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“Ugh, I should have told you,” Scott groaned.  Everyone else at the table sighed as they ate breakfast.  

“What?” Bucky asked, more exasperated.  “What’s going on?”

“What did she tell you she was doing today?” Scott asked warily.

“Well, yesterday none of her family showed up and I asked her about it, and she said she’d see them today,” Bucky said, feeling overwhelmed with everyone’s attention on him.

Scott rubbed his face and Wanda hummed.  “She’s seeing them at the cemetery,” she said quietly.  Bucky looked at her confused.  Her head tilted and she sighed again.  “Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, Y/N goes to the cemetery and spends the day alone.  She has no family.  They’re all dead.  Her mom was her last living relative and she died just as Y/N was rescued from Baghdad.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as he took in this new information.  He felt like throwing up.  He felt so stupid.  Why didn’t she say anything, or correct him when he asked about her family?

“She doesn’t like to talk about it,” Scott piped up, seeing the question in Bucky’s eyes.  “This home, and anyone she helps in it, is her family.  That’s why it’s her whole life.  We are her soul focus,” he said sadly.  “She’ll most likely have a nightmare tonight, or this weekend.  A loud one,” he added.  “She always does after today.  We should probably figure out who’s going to help her this time.”

“Help her?”  Bucky asked.

“Like she helps you with your nightmares,” Pietro spoke up.  

“I can do it,” Bruce volunteered quietly.  

“You did it last time Bruce, and she nearly knocked you out, don’t stress yourself,” Wanda interjected.  “I can do it.”

After a few back and forth comments Bucky spoke loudly.  “I’ll do it,” he volunteered.  They all looked at him.  “I’m closest to her room, I’ll hear her first.  And she’ll be with me in the comfy room later tonight anyway.  I’ll do it.”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed at him.  “It takes her a while to snap out of it,” she warned.  “She’ll fight you.  Especially because you’re a man holding her down.  She won’t recognize you at first.”

“I know,” Bucky said, remembering the few times she had helped him and he wasn’t fully coherent.  “But I can do it.  I’ve got her.”

Everyone nodded, the breakfast now tainted with a somber mood.

***

A few hours later as Bucky was finishing up helping Scott rake the leaves outside he went inside to shower.  As he rummaged through his jacket pocket for his phone he pulled it out and saw he had a voicemail from Y/N left an hour ago.  He quickly opened it as he sat on his bed and hit play.

“--but everything’s going good, Mama.  We just got a new guy at the home a few months ago.”

It took Bucky a moment to realize that she wasn’t speaking to him.  She had accidentally called him and left him a message, probably after answering his text earlier.

“His name is Bucky.  He’s a real sweetheart.”  She paused.  “He’s gone through the worst thing imaginable, like me.  But he’s doing really well.  Soon enough I feel like he’ll be able to go home, and he won’t need me anymore.”  She sniffled.  “The problem is…I feel like I’m falling in love with him.”

Bucky gaped at his phone, nearly dropping it as she spoke.

“And I shouldn’t be.  I know it’s not appropriate.  He’s there for help, not for me to be lusting after him.  That’s the last thing he needs.”  She paused again.  “You’d like him, Mama.  Funny, kind, headstrong, kinda quiet, he’s got a great laugh when he actually fully laughs.  And easy on the eyes, as you’d say,” she snickered.  “I don’t know.  Maybe someday, after he’s left or something.  It’s nice to just get it off my chest though.”  She started crying, her sniffles getting louder and a choked whimper coming out.  “I miss you so much Ma–”

The voicemail ended.  Bucky sat silently, his brain not fully processing what he just heard.  She liked him back.  Was “falling in love” with him.  The looks he’d seen and the more personal, tender touches weren’t his mind tricking him.  He felt elated and also uneasy.  Requited love was thrumming through his mind, and yet he’d found out this information unintentionally.  She hadn’t meant for him to find out.  Would she have ever said anything?  Would she have ever told him, even after he left the home when he was mostly recovered?  He felt like the answer would be no.  

Bucky was in a funk for the rest of the day, unsure of what to do or how to go about it.  Should he talk to her?  Or just ignore it and let her come to him when she was ready?  What if she never did out of some sense of it being inappropriate or unethical?  Later that night he was still stewing over it as he sat in the comfy building, holding his phone and listening to her voicemail over and over as he waited for her to come in for their session.

He quickly shut his phone off when he heard footsteps coming from outside.  Y/N walked in looking tired as she shut the door behind her and turned to see him on the couch.  “Oh, hey Buck, you’re here already,” she said quietly, giving him a small smile.

“Yep,” Bucky said just as quietly.  

“Well, shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the walled off room.  Bucky nodded and followed her into the room.  She closed the door and sat herself on the couch as he sat on the bed across from her.  “So last week I feel like we made some good progress in trigger points on the body.  Is there anywhere else that you feel like is holding tension in your body anytime we have done these sessions?” she asked as she rummaged through her things and pulled out a notebook.

“I do, but um,” Bucky hesitated.  He wasn’t sure what to say as his hands wrung in front of him.  “It’s in a place that’s not exactly, uh…” he paused, watching her.

“I can’t help you with anything below the belt, Buck,” Y/N laughed as she opened her notebook.  “Though I can give you some resources for sex therapists that could help you with that.”

“No, I mean yes, but no,” Bucky blushed.  “It’s um…it’s my head?”

“You’re head?” Y/N looked confused.  

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.  He decided to just address it now.  Maybe if he got it out in the open now they could work through it, for better or worse.  “I found something out today I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Do you want to tell me?” Y/N asked curiously.

Bucky gulped.  “Well, first of all, you lied to me last night.”  Y/N’s eyes minutely widened, her body freezing.  “You said you were seeing your family today.  You forgot to mention that they’re all gone,” Bucky said, trying to be gentle rather than accusatory.  Y/N stared at him, an unreadable expression on her face.  “Scott told me,” he said.

Y/N closed her eyes as she sighed heavily.  “I’m sorry.  I should have told you, I just didn’t want to put a damper on your day with your family,” she said.  

“You wouldn’t have,” Bucky said, leaning forward.  “As much as you’re helping me, I’d like to think that we’re at least friends at this point, Y/N.  You can tell me things, too,” he offered. 

Y/N opened her eyes and looked at him, her eyes now shining with unshed tears.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  

Bucky held a hand out to her and she reached forward taking it with one of hers.   “C’mere,” he said, pulling her hand toward him.  Y/N laughed a little then stood from the couch and walked up to him.  He moved back on the bed to lay down and pulled her next to him.  She was usually the one to hold him against her when they had cuddle sessions, but this time he was the one holding her, tucking her head into his chest.  

“I’m supposed to be cuddling you, sir,” Y/N laughed again, wiping her eyes.

“This is my cuddle session to do with as I please, ma’am,” Bucky scoffed at her, running his fingers through a part of her hair.  

Y/N giggled and nuzzled into his chest, her hands fisting into his sweater.  They lay together for a while, neither of them wanting to interrupt the quiet.  Bucky wanted to bring up the voicemail, but decided it would have to wait for another day.  She just needed comfort, a friend, and he was more than willing to be that for her.  The rest could wait.

***

Bucky awoke to the sound of whimpering, his chest being hit by something.  He moved away from the offending thing hitting him and tried to adjust his eyes to the darkened room.  He looked down to see Y/N squirming on the bed next to him.  They had fallen asleep in the cuddle room.  As he started to try to sit up Y/N stiffened.  Bucky watched her body go rigid, her hands grasping the blankets beneath her.  Her head wrenched back and she suddenly screamed.

The scream was unearthly and Bucky backed up again.  His eyes were comically wide as she twitched, the scream dying in her throat before she took another deep breath and screamed again.  He jumped into action, desperately wanting that awful noise to stop.

“Y/N!  Hey, wake up,” he said loudly, sitting up on his knees and hovering over her.  His hands gently shook her shoulders but she just tried twisting away from him.  “Y/N!” he yelled this time, more firmly shaking her.  Another scream reverberated through the room and he cringed.  Tears were streaming down her face and she cried loudly.

“NO!” she yelled.  

Bucky started tapping her cheek.  “It’s not happening to you now, sweetheart, come on!  It’s just a bad memory.  Come back!” he yelled, trying to speak into her ear more.  He gave her cheek one harder slap and her eyes flew open.  “Y/N?” he asked tentatively.

Y/N’s eyes turned to him in fear and she pushed against him.  She was surprisingly strong and sent him flying into the wall next to the bed.  “No!” she yelled again, scrambling away from him.

“Y/N, it’s me!” Bucky said, quickly collecting himself.  He moved toward her on the bed.  In her panic she wasn’t able to focus on getting her limbs to do what she wanted so she fell off the bed to the floor and started crawling away from him toward the corner of the room.  Bucky jumped off the bed and tried to help her up but she wrenched her body away.  “Y/N, come on…ugh!” Bucky yelped as she kicked his leg out from underneath him.  He fell on top of her, which made her scream harder.  He used the position to keep her from hitting him as he turned her to face him.  He gripped her hands with one hand and held them on her chest while the other kept himself upright.  Y/N was thrashing against him, trying to get away.  “Y/N!  LOOK AT ME!” he bellowed.

Y/N finally stopped and stared up at him, breathing heavily.  Her eyes flickered across his face, recognition slowly showing on her face.  “Come back to me, sweetheart,” Bucky breathed, staring into her eyes.  “It’s just me, Bucky, okay?  You were having a nightmare,” he slowly released her hands.  “It’s just a bad memory.  That’s what you always tell me, right?  It’s not happening to you now.  You’re here, at home.  You’re safe,” he stroked her cheek with his fingers.  She blinked rapidly at his touch and released a sharp breath.  

“Bucky,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled.  “Come on, let’s get you off the floor.”  He slowly pulled himself off of her and pulled her up by her arms.  Y/N let him guide her and then stood in front of him like she was zoned out, her eyes looking around as she was still grounding herself.  Bucky leaned down to her eye level and cupped her face, making her look at him.  “Hey,” he said lowly.  Her eyes found him again.  “Hey you,” he smiled.  “It’s just you and me, right here, right now.  I’ve got you,” he said, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.  Y/N sagged in his hold, her hands reaching up and grasping his wrists.  “I’ve got you,” he repeated, leaning his forehead against hers.

Next thing he knew she was kissing him.  He froze, his mind short circuiting for a split second, then he closed his eyes and kissed her back.  At first it was soft, neither of them moving.  Bucky pulled away and looked for any hesitation in her face, but only saw a deep desire looking back at him.  He dove back in and kissed her hard, pulling a moan from her.  Y/N’s arms moved to wrap around his neck, kissing him passionately, running her fingers through his hair just how he liked during their cuddle sessions.  

Bucky moved his hands from her face down to her lower back, wrapping his arms around and holding her to him.  Y/N’s nails scratched his scalp, making him shiver against her.  He started moving them back towards the bed, acting on instinct that he thought long lost as he maneuvered her onto the bed until he was hovering over her.  Y/N’s mouth opened and her tongue licked along his lower lip, and he happily reciprocated by tasting her back.  She moaned again, her hands now gripping his shoulders for support.

Bucky’s hands were slowly running down her sides to her hips, his right hand kneading her left thigh as he brought it up around his hip.  His other hand was tickling along her stomach then his fingers went under the hem of her shirt, skimming along her skin.  A small part of his brain was yelling at him to think this through, that she hadn’t confessed her feelings to him yet, that she had just woken up from a nightmare that was a huge emotional toll, what this would mean for them later, but it all felt too good.  Her perfect hands on his face, in his hair, her plushy skin under his fingers, the way her tongue felt on him, the sweet noises she made.  As her nails scratched down his chest he moaned into her mouth.

Y/N stilled, her fingers freezing and then pushing against his chest.  He pulled away panting as he looked at her questioningly.  Y/N looked at him in shock, looking down between them and then gasping.  She pushed him away, making him flop onto the bed next to her and quickly stood up, gathering her things.

“I’m sorry Bucky,” she said, adjusting her clothes.

“What?  Hold on,” Bucky stood, reaching for her arm which she quickly dodged.  “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N repeated, moving towards the door.  “That was wrong.  I apologize.”

“Y/N wait,” Bucky said, blocking her way to the door.  “Talk to me, hey,” he reached out and held her arms.  

“We can’t do this, Buck,” Y/N said, shutting her eyes tight.  

“Why not?” Bucky asked, squeezing her arms.

“I’m supposed to be helping you, not dating you,” Y/N answered, keeping her head turned toward the floor.  “Thank you for helping me get out of that nightmare.  I’m sorry for my emotional response.”

“I kissed you, too,” Bucky said, cupping her face again and bringing her face up.  “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Y/N’s eyes flew open at the pet name but she shook her head.  “Don’t call me that,” she said, trying to move away.

“Y/N please!” Bucky raised his voice.  “I wanted that, too.  I kissed you back.  I want you.  I got a voicemail from you earlier today.”  Y/N’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “It was you talking to what I’m assuming was your mom’s grave,” he continued.  Her eyes widened.  “You said you were falling in love with me,” Bucky said.  “And I’ve been falling for you for a while now.”

Y/N shook her head again.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” Bucky said imploringly.  “How could you say that?”

“I can’t have you,” Y/N sniffed, some tears starting to form in her eyes again.  “Not now.  Not like this, when you’re in my care–”

“You’re not my therapist,” Bucky cut in.  “Having a relationship with you is not unethical or a breach of trust or conduct.  I want this,” he leaned in and kissed her forehead.  “I want you,” he said, kissing down her face, making her sigh.  “All I want is you,” he breathed, his lips grazing her lips.

Y/N whimpered as he gave her lips a short kiss, but she quickly took another step back.  “Bucky, please understand–”

“I’ll wait,” Bucky interrupted.  Y/N froze.  “I can wait until my time here is done.  Once you and Dr. Strange feel like I’m healed well enough to leave, then we can do this,” he gestured between the two of them.  “Please don’t push me away.”

Y/N huffed a sharp breath, her eyes flickering between his.  She was contemplating, and he didn’t dare let go of her as she thought it through.

“What if your recovery takes a long time?” she asked.  “You can’t rush yourself through recovery for the sake of a possible relationship afterwards.  You have to do this right–”

“I will,” Bucky promised.  

“Can you honestly wait that long?” Y/N asked.  “And when it is done how will you…your family lives a few hours away, your whole life is there.  How would this even work?”

“We can figure all that out when the time comes,” Bucky said, his hands slipping down to her shoulders.  

She stared at him for another minute.  “I don’t…I don’t know,” she shook her head, looking down.

“Think about it,” Bucky said quietly, massaging her shoulders.  “Either way, I’ll wait for you.”  He lifted her chin with his fingers and leaned in, kissing her deeply one last time.  “Just remember, you’re all I want sweetheart.  And I’ve got you.  No matter what you choose.”  He gave her a sad smile, pulled his hands away then walked out of the room and back towards the house.  He didn’t know what would happen from here, but hoped for the best.

@wintrsoldrluvr @isitbiorisitlesbian @starfly-nicole @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger @idontknowhowtonormal

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

summary: three hours prior, Simon had told Maddie he'd loved her. That she hadn't needed to say it back. And he'd been sure that'd been fine...until that strange, hedonist ghost connection you'd told him you'd shared with Wally had returned with a vengeance, effecting not just you and Wally, but everyone within its radius.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

🎀🌶️💌 a sprinkle of smut and love for Valentine's Day. unplanned, but perfect timing 😘

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.8

Grandpa John had always been around. A permanent fixture in your household since his death in 1974. The year your Uncle Andrew was born. He'd died in New York but had made his way back. His choice to remain an earthly ghost meant he'd had to travel as those in the living world did. Trains, planes, and automobiles. That was how it was when a soul kept a foothold in the world, so close to the veil that they never fully transitioned from life to death.

He was waiting for Nanna, you'd assumed. You didn't actually know, forbidden from talking to Grandpa John despite the fact that everyone in your family had connectedness and were aware of his presence. Although he'd been Nanna's husband, he'd spent a lot of time haunting Ginny, following her when she'd traveled even when she'd failed to acknowledge him. Or maybe she'd been breaking the rule she'd been sworn to uphold behind everyone's backs.

You'd certainly done it. And when nothing had happened—no swarms or squalls in sight—you'd kept doing it to the point you'd found your fated in his afterlife and had done a lot more than talk to him.

The rule was stupid. Possibly implemented after another family under your Ciorcal had misused their connectedness. You could imagine it: Some family of bank robbers manipulating ghosts to open bank vaults in the metaphysical world so the robbers could fill duffel bags with stacks of cash in the living world. If you were able to bring the two worlds together, surely someone else could, too.

Regardless, this wasn't the same scenario and you needed to talk to Grandpa John, so when Simon mentioned a ghost who resembled Magnum P.I., you knew you had to track him down.

"Where?" You demanded, already shifting toward the low grounds of the school where the fence met the woods.

"No, no way," Simon urged, planting himself between you and the path you wanted to take. "We have bigger things to worry about."

"Like my mom." Maddie murmured, huddled close to Charley, her face crumpled in an expression of pure anguish.

"Or why we didn't feel warm and tingly when Janet crossed over," Charley added.

A sharp exhale, "Dead Grandpa John might know something," you implored, gazing up at Wally as he stepped into your space and strung his arm around you. He shook his head, had already protested the idea because he couldn't follow you past the fence, and beseeched that you'd done enough sleuthing for one night. "But if he saw who took Limon, we'd have Amelia's real face!" You were frustrated, scared, a n g r y. She'd been in your house for fuck's sake! Didn't they care!?

Wally pulled you closer, banded his other arm around you, and held you. You wanted to shove him, kick him, snarl, scratch, lash out. But the longer he held you, the more his embrace soothed the impulse. Releasing a taxed sigh, your body went limp in his arms.

"He said he couldn't say anything, anyway," Simon said softly, his tone bordering on regretful. "He was talking in metaphors."

You felt Wally make some kind of motion before he asked, "Just...give us a second?" of Simon and the others. They must've agreed since, the next thing you knew, Wally had maneuvered you around the corner of the school building for privacy. Alone, he lifted you into his arms, turned and slid down the wall so he was sat on the ground with you in his lap. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your head, temple, cheek, lips. "Do you always call him 'Dead Grandpa John'?" He grinned when he pulled back to look at you.

Your snort bled into a chuckle, "We actually do, yeah."

"So you guys know you're not talking about Alive Grandpa John who exists, right?"

You shook your head, gazing at Wally with a weak but there smile. "Not even."

Wally laughed, light and fond, and nodded, "I bet he loves that."

"Hey, we're not allowed to talk to him, but he's more than welcome to talk to us. He could've said something." You challenged. And then it struck you, what Wally was doing. His carefree smile, his humor, his kisses and touch...oh. He was trying to make you feel better. You blushed, somewhat ashamed of your earlier aggressiveness, eyes downcast and lips pursed.

"What's that look for, pretty girl?" Wally asked as he hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face up, thumb smudging across your bottom lip and then lingering at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm sorry," You murmured, "I just... Seeing Aiden tonight. Knowing he's...he's still there, stuck in a loop and so far away from home. God, it would kill my mom if she found out. And Amelia being in my house?" You choked, swallowed, tucked your face into his neck, and curled your fingers in his shirt, "Wally, I'm scared."

"Me too, baby," Wally cradled the back of your head, "And you wonder why I don't want you running into the dark, creepy woods at night with just Simon and a shovel?" He huffed, "Amelia could be anywhere right now."

"She could be anyone."

"Exactly," Wally's voice dropped, low and serious as he said, "If anything happened to you and I couldn't get to you... Baby, I'd lose it, I'd—"

You could tell he was spiraling, too many bad thoughts crowding his mind. So you did what you hoped would relieve his anxiety. You took his face in your hands and kissed him. Slow. Deep. Meaningful as he held you, his big hands on your thighs, a little whimper from his throat, his bent legs falling open so you were forced to push forward and press your hips against his. Your weight rested fully in his lap and you felt a twitch in his sweatpants, right where you suddenly ached for him.

"Wally..." You said like a secret under your breath. "We should..."

Should. Do...what?

It descended by gradual degrees. That thick, viscous haze you remembered had distorted your mind the first time Wally had kissed you. The world around you and him dimmed, faded, pushed back into the margins as you pressed into the cradle of his pelvis. A gratified sigh, lips connecting and letting out, over and over, soft kisses that turned blazing as it continued.

"Just a little longer, baby," Wally grabbed your ass and guided you against him, kissed you with rising hunger, "I missed you." He rocked his hips into yours from below, the evidence of his arousal stiff and hardening further in his sweatpants. "I've got all this...this energy in me since Dawn crossed over," he whined before he devoured your lips in another deep kiss. "I can't—please baby, I need to get it out of me."

You knew why. An energy shed. When ghosts crossed over—or ascended, rather—they sheared everything that held them to the earth. Bodies and the space those occupied; consciousness as human beings understood it; all barriers surrendered for their spirit to return to the cosmic nebula they'd dawned from.

Dawn's ascension had occurred in what essentially amounted to a box where her earthly energy couldn't spread farther than the boundaries of the school. Being in such close proximity must have made that euphoric and peaceful release that much more potent. Wally needed an outlet. And, like a contact high, you were rapidly succumbing to the same need. You were hardly aware of your body moving on his, rubbing yourself against him through your layers and his.

"Please, baby," He repeated, "I want you so bad." One hand clenched your thigh while the other curled into your hair and angled your head, held it still so he could kiss you with mounting passion, "Please, just let me feel you. I need to feel you."

You whimpered, moaned, humped forward, and watched his face contort in pleasure as you ground against him. He matched your movements in that slow, sedate tempo, the anticipation and need swelling between you, around you, inside you.

"Wally," You whimpered as you felt his hand move from your thigh to the front of your jeans, expert fingers deftly undoing the button and dragging the zipper down.

"Don't stop, baby," Wally groaned, both hands sneaking into the back of your jeans, beneath your panties, to grab your ass skin-to-skin, "Fuck, it feels good." He licked into your mouth, ravenous, hot, all teeth and tongue as he consumed every sweet, eager noise you made. His cock was thick and completely hard, the friction maddening even through the thin denim of your jeans. Desire lit up and ignited inside you with every touch, kiss, sound he delivered.

When he pulled back, his eyes were lustblown and heavy, "I wanna taste you, baby." His nails lightly dragged up your ass cheeks to your hips. You nodded. Maybe. You weren't sure, everything deliciously muzzy, but you could think enough that you knew you wanted this. Wally smiled a lopsided, cocky thing that sent hot shivers through your nervous system. "Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty girl." A command more than a request in a voice like gravel.

Without hesitation, you did as he asked. Slithered out of his lap to position yourself with your ass in the air, legs spread, hips swaying as you wordlessly beckoned him to you. A fucking cat in heat, you'd never felt this kind of languid, cottoncandy desire before. Vaguely, you wondered if this was what it felt like to get high. Acutely sensitive and remarkably unaware of anything beyond your little pocket of flesh and bone.

Your wayward thoughts were steered to Wally when his fingers slipped under the waist of your jeans to drag them down below the swell of your ass. You heard him moan, felt him press his clothed cock between your cheeks, and hump once, twice, before he shifted.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, probably definitely too loud, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Wally's tongue was sweeping through your folds from behind before it fucked into you. His big hands squeezed your ass, face pressed between your ass cheeks, and he groaned in blissful satisfaction as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"So fucking sweet, baby," He said, and, glancing at him over your shoulder, you saw him lick his lips, his chin already glistening. He winked at you, smug grin on his face, and then sunk down to repeat the action. One finger dipped inside your pussy just to slick it up before it found your clit and rubbed in a firm circle. Your breath stuttered, brain turned to pudding, and, holy fuck, if he stopped you'd kill him.

Wally ate you out like he was going for gold, silver, bronze; every place, every medal, with gusto. And just when you were about to see God, "Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," Wally came up for air, shoved his sweatpants down, and drove into you in one fluid motion. Hard. The slap of skin on skin bouncing off the wall and ricocheting into the night. "F u u u c k."

You fell forward onto your elbows, cheek in the grass, body rocking from every beastial thrust. The noises his cock punched out of you were unlike any you'd heard yourself make, and what the hell was that? You didn't know you were capable of that pitch, that high note; so desperate and needy and completely fucking shameless in your lust for Wally as he pounded into you over and over, blunt cockhead beating your g-spot like a drum.

"Oh God, W-Wally!" You choked, gasped, whimpered in that order, forcing yourself onto your hands and slamming back just as good as you he gave you. So close, so fucking close, just a little more, God, please— "Oh fuck, Wally, don't stop!"

Grabbing you by your throat, Wally drew you upright, his cock still buried deep, and pressed your back to his front. His teeth found your neck; nipped, sucked, licked, his thumb pushed between your lips for you to suck. He moaned like rapture, pace faster, more feverish, as his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

He was swiftly losing control, you could feel it, his hips stuttering, but he didn't stop, "Gonna come for me, baby girl?" And, shit, oh, oh—two, three, four more hard, brutal thrusts, his fat cock beating the ecstasy into your bloodstream—you came with a force that left you reeling. Waves crashed, galaxies lived and died, and you nearly blacked out.

The instant you clenched around him, Wally roared, primal, from the depths of his chest, nails biting your hip painfully as he fucked his climax into you. His fingers twitched around your throat, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he panted a mantra of your name punctuated by long groans. When he stilled, you and he collapsed forward into the grass. He caught himself before squishing you under his weight, his hand quickly adjusting from your throat to your stomach as he kept you against him and rolled to the side.

"Holy shit," He breathed, sweatpants still around his thighs, softening, wet cock cooling in the open air.

The feeling rose from your belly to your chest and then outward. It started with a giggle that grew into a laugh which Wally doubled with his own. You flopped onto your back, turned your head to stare at him as you and he came down from whatever high had picked up and carried you and him away.

"Energy sheds are fucking. awesome." You decided with a wide grin, taking a moment to tug your panties and jeans back into place.

"Is that what that was?" Wally asked as he, too, put himself to rights. He sat up first, gathered you into his arms, between his legs, and sat back against the wall. "An energy shed?"

You nodded, snuggled into him, and stamped a kiss to his collar, "It's a side-effect of ascending. Or crossing over, as you call it." You explained, "You don't take everything with you when you ascend and what stays behind is dispersed. Usually, it has a lot more room, but I guess, with the Something-Something's barrier in place, Dawn's energy couldn't thin out." You grinned up at him as he blinked down at you in amazement.

"Jesus, it felt like I popped a dozen Mollies..." Wally's head fell back against the wall, mouth slightly parted, brow glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Is it always like that?"

"It's not supposed to be that intense. Like I said, the shed's usually spread a lot thinner. People within a certain radius would feel a sense of peace and pure happiness. Concentrated like it is here? I guess it's a helluva drug." You speculated.

Wally swooped down to kiss you, affectionate and slow, and when he pulled back, "I'm still horny," he chuckled, "How long does it last?"

"I have no idea," You said honestly, a big smile on your face as you planned to spend the night with your devilishly sexy ghost boyfriend. That was until you remembered why you were there in the first place. Reality crashed over you like a bucket of ice water, "Oh my God, they probably heard everything!"

Wally shifted to peek around the corner, "Uh... I don't think they did." He said, "No one's there..."

"Yeah, probably because they heard. everything." You bemoaned into your hands, cheeks flushed for the worst reason.

"Babe, I'm sure it's fine," Wally kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your cheek again and again, an onslaught of playful kisses that tickled a giggle from you. "C'mon, sweet girl," Wally hoisted you easily to your feet as he rose from the ground, hugged you close before he led you toward the side entrance, "Let's go find the others."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon stared ahead, mortified. Or, really, he should've felt mortified, but he couldn't bring himself to. Maddie was breathing heavily, her cheeks a gorgeous cherry red, eyes glazed, lips kiss-swollen. Her jeans and underwear still dangled off a leg hung over the teacher's desk. Simon's jeans, however, were securely on though open, his come splashed in streaks and dribbles on the yellowed linoleum he'd knelt on while he'd eaten Maddie out. Whatever the fuck that unprecedented interlude of lustfucknow had been, it'd passed, and in the aftermath Simon wasn't sure what to do or say or think.

Eventually, "Wow," Maddie exhaled, tipping back to lay across the desk. "Simon..."

Simon grit his teeth, winced, eyes squeezed shut as he mentally prepared for Maddie to freak out and tell him never to talk to her again. "Yeah...?"

Instead, "When did you learn how to do that?" she surprised him.

Simon blushed crimson and whipped his head toward her. He was on the ground, back against the wall, tucked beneath the blackboard with his knees up, hand over opposite wrist. He studied her expression as she finally maneuvered off the desk on wobbly legs and began to dress herself.

"It's not like I had practice," He confessed, unsure if sharing was caring in this situation. He did anyway, "I just...listened." To her sounds; the whimpers and sighs and perfect, songbird moans of ecstasy he'd seduced from her with his fingers and mouth. Fuck, that'd been everything Simon had ever wanted. He'd yearned for the chance to give Maddie that kind of pleasure for longer than he would admit. Only, now that he'd had it, he wasn't sure how to process it.

Once dressed, Maddie plopped down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, and looped her arms through his as she spoke, "You are a very good listener."

He couldn't help it, Simon snorted and hung his head, smiled in relief, "Thanks, that means a lot." After a few moments of oddly comfortable silence, he asked, "Do we know what that was?" Too afraid to question whether or not there was a chance it would happen again.

"I bet she knows." Maddie said as she glanced up at Simon, "We should probably go find her and Wally."

Her head was still on his shoulder, the way she'd rested it angled her face exactly right for Simon to gently lean down and press his lips to hers. Soft. Hesitant. And then firmer, harder, his body turning, one arm snaking around Maddie's shoulders while the hand of the other cupped her jaw.

"We should really go..." She whispered, but she didn't move.

Simon agreed, "Yeah," and didn't release her, both coming together again in a slow, deep kiss.

A sharp knock on the door pulled them apart, Wally's voice calling through, "You guys have pants on or should we come back later?"

They heard you yelp and demand, "What do you mean do they have pants on!?" And then, clearly not having seen who Wally saw, "WHO doesn't have pants on!?"

Before Wally answered for them, Simon called back, "We're coming!" to which he heard Wally snicker and gloat, I bet you are. Simon glowered at the door. Maddie laughed, fuller and freer than he'd heard since she'd been kicked into the metaphysical world. He hadn't even come to terms with the fact that, because soul-ties were a thing and now he and Maddie were part of your weird, cosmic family, Simon could hug, touch, kiss Maddie's ghost. It was surreal. Incredible. A little terrifying.

Maddie stood first and held a hand out to him, yanking him to his feet when he took it. He did up his fly and smoothed his hair back before taking her hand. They stood, staring at each other, Maddie's eyes openly admiring Simon in a way that made his heart race and his skin prickle. Wow. He felt complete, whole, at the peak of happiness, and he never wanted it to end.

Hand in hand, he walked her to the classroom door. Simon was both giddy and grateful that she didn't tug away or demand he let go of her even after he opened the door and stepped into the hall to meet you and Wally—equally as disheveled, he noted. Grass stains on the knees of your jeans and his sweatpants; your hair sex-mussed and his smile far too satisfied to be from anything else. Simon glanced back at Maddie who adjusted their position, led his hand to her waist, and curled into his side. Like a lover. She looked beautiful and pleasured and a little sugarglazed after three orgasms and Simon couldn't help himself. He preened. And then got down to business.

"Talk." Simon said, giving you a significant look.

Your response, "We're high on ascension," explained nothing, yet Simon understood. Because Maddie had told him about Dawn and had managed to explain enough about what she'd been experiencing right before Simon had picked her up and pinned her to the desk.

Everyone was floating on some sort of post-Dawn's-crossing-over buzz as if they'd collectively inhaled an aphrodisiac. When he took stock of himself, he realized he still felt it. That liquid hot desire coursing through him, less intense but there. He could read the signs of that intoxication all over you and Wally. He'd seen it on Charley's face before Charley had muttered something about the Art room. And Ajay, who'd loped off to the theater. And Rhonda, who'd grouchily stomped in the direction of the library before she'd called back to inform, I'm going to find Bernie, whoever that was.

Jesus, they'd been drugged.

"Are we gonna regret this later?" Simon had to ask, worrying his bottom lip, unable to peel his eyes from the floor.

You must've picked up on what he couldn't say since, addressing Maddie, you said, "It's not like drinking too much. I'd say it's more like an anti-depressant. The good feelings already inside you have space to grow and you can't ignore them." You continued to explain what ascension actually was and then added, "I mean, you don't feel like fucking me, do you?" Also directed to Maddie.

The silence that followed made Simon's head whip up and his jaw drop. Thankfully, Maddie seemed to simply be considering the question and doing an internal scan, because she eventually shook her head.

"As cute as I think you are, I'm not coded like that."

"Same, babes," followed by, "Whether or not you guys regret it will have to be a conversation you have," you shrugged as Wally crowded closer to you, clearly not having appreciated the idea of sharing you if Maddie had said yes. If you'd even go for it, of course. Which planted quite the image in Simon's mind and, oh God, when would this stuff work itself out of his system, please and thank you?

"Where are the others?" You wondered, dragging Simon back down to earth.

He cleared his throat, blinking and shaking his head to drive away the cotton slog that kept creeping in. "Charley went to the Art room, Rhonda...went in the direction of the library—" Wally choked "—and Ajay said something about the theater."

Everyone sobered when Simon mentioned Ajay; downcast eyes and tight expressions of regret. Mina's absence meant Ajay didn't have someone to share that pure, radiant delirium with. Or maybe he'd found her, Mina drawn out of hiding by lust.

"We should split up and find the others. We need to figure out what our next moves are."

"No offense," Simon began, casting Maddie a bashful look, "But I don't think I have it in me to come up with next moves right now. I'm still...kind of..."

"Horny?" Wally supplied, grinning like a goof.

Simon didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

Your determination was admirable. "Alright, what if we split up, and Maddie and I go together?"

Together, "No!" Simon and Wally rejected the idea immediately.

You rolled your eyes, "Guys, my brother is trapped in an abandoned house, Maddie's mom might be responsible for why she's a ghost, Amelia knows where I live, fuck knows where Dave is and what he knows, and if I'm not back at Xavier's before midnight, Sheriff Baxter is going to raid every building in Split River. We need to focus."

"She says like she isn't fondling her dead boyfriend," Simon commented, brow raised and eyes fixed on where your hand was on Wally's ass.

"Oh, shut up, I can still prioritize." You defended, glowering at Simon even as your cheeks pinked adorably.

"She's right," Maddie said and gave Simon a pleading look that he couldn't argue with if he wanted to. "I need to find out what happened to me. And if..." She swallowed, "and if my mom is the one who hurt me. She was here that day. I don't remember everything, but she was drunk and we argued. It was really bad..." Trailing off, Maddie stared at her boots, body trembling slightly under Simon's hand.

He brought her closer, kissed her hair and wrapped his arms around her to encase her in a comforting embrace. "Alright, let's go get the others and come up with what we wanna do next." He deferred to you for first steps.

"You said Charley's in the Art room? You guys go get him. Wally and I will grab Rhonda from the library, and then Ajay from the theater. We'll meet back at the fence. Good?"

"Good." Wally, Maddie, and Simon echoed.

You beamed, "Good. And no delays!"

Simon studied you for a moment, mouth twisting into an amused smirk, "You're still fondling your dead boyfriend."

You repeated his words in a mocking cadence and simply dragged Wally down the hall, leaving Maddie and Simon to laugh at your and Wally's backs.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was riding high on ascension, whistling a tune he hadn't heard in years (Everybody Wants to Rule the World, and he didn't care what Charley said, it was a hit), literally skipping and jiving down the hallway toward the library. He serenaded you with the lyrics as he pulled you into a loose and silly Two Step; twirled you, lifted you, kissed you breathless because he couldn't imagine doing anything else ever again.

When you and he reached the book return bins, Dawn's piece of the metaphysical school, the flicker of a flashlight caught Wally's attention. Instantly, he scooped you up and placed you on top of the bins, made sure you were safe and hidden before he approached the mouth of the hallway. On that same wave of whimsy, Wally finger snapped like a Greaser in a musical toward Security Guard Al, belting the chorus right into the man's face as Al halted his trek around the corner.

Al stood for a moment, staring directly through Wally to the other end of the hall, and then, repelled by Wally's ghostly energy, went right on his way. Back toward the office where he'd fish another donut out of the box the secretary had left him and watch the second half of the movie he'd been playing before his start-of-shift rounds.

Wally grinned, pleased as punch, and returned to you, arms outstretched to pluck you from the top of the bins. He didn't put you down, though. Rather, he had you wrap your legs around his waist so he could spin you around and then press you against the wall. You laughed, partly at his antics, but mostly from the tingly remnants of Dawn's undiluted ascension. You slipped out of Wally's hold, feet on the ground, back against the wall, and gazed up at him.

In return, Wally towered over you, one arm propped on the wall above your head, opposite hand lifting to trail his fingers down the slope of your jaw, thumbprint grazing your lips. God, he loved you so much he was crazed from it. He had to tell you. A million times would never express it enough, but he wanted you to hear it, feel it, feel him.

"I love you, baby." Wally murmured as he leaned in and brushed his lips across yours. A barely-there tease that he let linger for a moment before he pressed in, hard and wanting. He hoisted you into his arms again, one hand on the curve of your ass, his hardening cock humping against your pussy through your jeans and his sweatpants. "Fuck, baby, I can't—this stuff is insane," He groaned after he nipped your earlobe. "I need you again, baby, please. I can't think."

"Yeah," You breathed, grinding back against him, "Yeah, okay. We can be quick, right?"

Wrong.

But Wally didn't want to say anything that would deter you from being carried to the boy's locker room—just down the nearby stairs and to the right—and fucked against the tiles under a warm shower. It was a fantasy Wally suddenly had to play out. He'd die all over again if he didn't. And you didn't want him to die again, did you?

"Do you, baby?"

You laughed, "No, Wally, I don't want you to die again."

He grinned into the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise over your pulse point, "Good girl."

Wally didn't care that the library—and Rhonda and Bernie—were right there. He needed you naked and soapy and on his cock five minutes ago. The journey to the locker room was interrupted by various breaks to pin you to walls and ravish you with kisses and desperate touches, Wally's hands groping everywhere he could reach. When he finally got you into the locker room, his cock was throbbing, a stain of precum blossoming through the fabric of his sweatpants.

You and he stripped in a frenzy, playful and carefree. You threw your jeans at his head, he grabbed you around the waist when you tried to dodge him, both you and he laughing like there wasn't a resurrectionist cult out to manipulate ghosts and perform deadly rituals. Wally manhandled you into the showers, your knees hooked over his arms, his cock driving into you from below as he held you easily against the tiles. He could see it in you, that his strength turned you on.

"You like it when I have you like this, baby?" He whispered darkly in your ear, one, two, three powerful thrusts before you answered with a beautiful keen and your pussy gripped his cock tighter. "Fuck, that's it baby. You take me so good, don't you?"

"Y-yes," You mewled, a sound that went straight to Wally's cock. "God, Wally, harder, please, I need it harder..."

And, Jesus Christ, that made whatever remained of his control snap. He granted your wish, hips snapping in sharper strokes as he brought you down on his cock harder. He could do this all night. All day. Forever. He wanted this forever. He wanted you forever.

Forever, fuck, please, let me have her forever, Wally begged whatever higher power would listen, fucking into you with abandon, a slave to his lust. You began to tremble into his arms, crying out on every hard upstroke until he felt you squeeze around him. And then, God, yes, and then his own release hit him like a fucking train.

After, he sunk to his knees, adjusted his arms so he could hold you properly. Wally panted into your throat as warm water streamed over you and him, steam clouding the air, the perfect cocoon to escape in and pretend the world didn't exist. Just for another minute. Just one...

However, it was several minutes (an hour) later when anyone showed up to the fence. Maddie and Simon were more disheveled. Rhonda was brazenly wearing Bernie's top and nothing else. Charley's neck was a Jackson Pollock of love bites. And Ajay was doing his best not to look anyone in the eye.

You and Wally were the last to arrive.

Oops.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the woods just outside of town, Dave paced a trench in the loam, hands waving frantically as he ranted, "That manifesting little bitch!"

Leaned casually against the side of Dave's car, arms folded, unimpressed, Sheriff Baxter scoffed, "You think it's her fault your plan isn't coming together?" He pushed off the car and straightened, cracked his neck, eyes narrowing dangerously, "Have I taught you nothing? I told you it was better done in one shot, yet you insisted to do it this way and now look where we are!"

Dave whirled around and marched toward Sheriff Baxter, "We tried doing it the old way, remember? It failed! One more disaster in this shit town and we'd be found out."

"Such a childish thing to say. Who would ever believe it?" Sheriff Baxter leveled Dave with a hard look. "Magic doesn't exist outside of movies and fairytales these days. We could've done it and moved on by now."

"You weren't arguing when I suggested it, mother." Dave growled, "In fact, you supported it fully, if I recall. All because you refused to seek out new land."

"Don't put this on me, Amelia." Sheriff Baxter stood taller, his expression menacing. Dave shrunk, cowed, and obediently stepped back. "We're running out of time. That little shit you foolishly trusted has taken my vessel and now the ghost I warned you to demolish is speaking the others into ascension. We either do this now or we fade into nothing. Do you understand?"

Dave didn't take his eyes off the ground, "Yes mother."

"I suppose I have to step in and clean up your mess. Again."

"I can—"

With fire in his eyes, Sheriff Baxter snapped, "You have made it abundantly clear that you absolutely CAN. NOT." A tense pause. "You have until tomorrow night to find the girl. If you don't, I am leaving you to this world, Amelia. Your vessel is mine and your soul will be no more than a hole in the Awen."

Dave gasped, visibly terrified. There was no doubt in his mind that his future depended entirely on finding Janet Hamilton in Maddie Nears' withering body. If he didn't, his fate would be worse than ceasing to exist. Amelia's soul would be so thoroughly obliterated, it would be as if she had never existed at all.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

note: happy Valentine's Day, my beauties 💐 i hope you enjoyed this installment. i'm starting to crave the second season, but i'm still on best behavior. haven't even had a peek *wails in starvation* i really wanna get the next couple of installments out so i can change that, so let's pray that i can bring everything together sooner rather than later... seriously. pray for me 🥹

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.

[kitamars]

pretty expressive huh

[tonycries]

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally. 

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could. 

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead. 

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above. 

Dammit. 

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless? 

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow. 

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head. 

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?” 

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now. 

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was. 

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all. 

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms. 

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on. 

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly. 

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue. 

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow. 

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors. 

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?” 

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door. 

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless- 

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap. 

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-” 

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them. 

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter. 

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age. 

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one. 

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real. 

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?” 

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too. 

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day. 

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter. 

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then. 

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know. 

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-” 

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.” 

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him. 

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.” 

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you. 

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed. 

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but. 

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?” 

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did. 

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-” 

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!” 

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you. 

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold. 

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.” 

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away. 

Gojo Satoru was deathly still. 

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary. 

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you. 

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid. 

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-” 

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too. 

Unmistakable. 

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away. 

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him. 

It was him. Alive. 

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion. 

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-” 

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue. 

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss. 

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions. 

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure. 

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.” 

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane. 

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric. 

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist. 

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip! 

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all. 

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds. 

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs. 

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”  

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing. 

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit. 

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.” 

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths. 

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones- 

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance. 

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there. 

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–” 

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now. 

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better. 

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach. 

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away. 

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable. 

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation. 

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager. 

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this. 

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs. 

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared. 

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you. 

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.” 

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.  

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length. 

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows. 

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”  

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy. 

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock. 

“Spit on me.” 

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes. 

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot. 

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside. 

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure. 

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet. 

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful. 

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins,  “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sloaneispunk]

“love is a losing game”

frontman! (hwang in-ho) x you

what if frontman had joined the first games with gi-hun? in-ho seeked thrill and decided to become a player in the first games, meeting you. when it was time to play ‘marbles’, he was caught between a dilemma of letting you or his cover go

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

‘this game will be played in pairs. please find a partner and shake hands to indicate your pairings’

in-ho was the first to look at you. “y/n, play with me.”

you looked at him stunned, “you want me? what if it’s a game that needs strength?”

“you’re the strongest person i know here, so it’s a yes?” he smiled, waiting for you to shake his hand.

then, you looked to gi-hun who was watching the two of you expectantly as his face dropped. when he saw the worry on your face he shook his head. “no, you two go ahead, i’ll find someone else to play with.”

you gave him a sympathetic smile before turning back at in-ho, taking his hand.

when the timer came to an end, everyone moved towards the next room.

“ah! y’all bastards, play with me please! you need me!” player 212 pleaded as the guards started to approach her. she was the only player that hadn’t found a partner.

her screams and pleads pierced your ears as you looked back at her being dragged away by the guards.

“don’t look.” in-ho said, using his hand to gently turn your head away from the sight.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

you and in-ho followed the guard to your assigned places. it was the porch of a small wooden house, just like yours when you were younger. despite the fake set up, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia, taking in your surroundings. small trees encircled the house, its leaves seeming as real as ever.

“i wonder what game they’re going to make us play.” you wondered aloud as you sat on the porch steps.

‘the game is marbles. each player will be given ten marbles, you are to play any game of your choice. the winner will be determined by having all twenty marbles’

your eyes shot to in-ho. “that means…”

“there can only be one winner.” he finished, looking back solemnly.

your distress was rising quickly as the tension between the two of you thickened.

you rushed to the guard, “can we switch partners, please? i can’t play with him!”

“y/n-”

“please.” you sobbed, but the guard remained unfazed.

“hey, it’s okay. we have time, let’s just sit down and talk.” he gave you a smile, taking your hand leading you back to the porch steps.

“in-ho-”

“so what movies do you like?” he cut you off, that stupid smile still bright on his face.

after a brief moment of silence, you answered. “i-i guess i like the marvel movies.”

“yeah? do you have a favourite superhero?”

“black widow.” you let out a suppressed laugh. “as a kid i looked up to her, she was strong.”

“she’s pretty badass, isn’t she?”

you chuckled. “yeah, she is.”

even though it was obvious that in-ho was simply trying to uplift the mood it felt like it was working. if you were going to die here, it might as well be with in-ho.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

time passed and now you only had five minutes left on the clock, anxiety bubbled in your stomach.

“what do you want to do when you get out of here?” you asked in-ho, your head now rested on his shoulder.

he pulled you closer, making sure you were nice and comfortable before he replied. “i guess, pay off my debts and start a new life… maybe a nice apartment with a dog.”

“i like that.” you agreed.

“what about you?” he asked, looking down, placing a kiss on your head as he did so.

“find my family. we’ll all live together again, i’ll buy a big house and we can all be happy.”

“that sounds nice.” he whispered.

“we should play a game.” you sighed, lifting your head. you pulled your legs together, crossing them as you turned to face him, marbles in hand.

“we can play rock paper scissors, winner takes all.” he suggested.

“i really don’t want to play against you.” you said barely above a whisper, looking down.

he smiled, lifting your head up with his finger. “it’ll be okay. on my count okay?”

you nodded hesitantly.

“rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

you threw scissors.

in-ho threw rock.

but he knew better, quickly changing it to paper right before your eyes.

without a word said, he gave you his ten marbles.

“no! in-ho, you can’t do that!” you shouted, tears flooding to your eyes.

“ah, i knew i should’ve threw rock.” he laughed to himself, acting oblivious.

you got up, kneeling down before him as you grabbed his collar.

“let’s play again, that wasn’t fair!”

“no, the rules were that. i guess i lost.”

you started to weep at his feet. in-ho had been there for you ever since the first game of red light, green light, taking you under his wing.

he would spend the nights keeping watch over you as you slept, pairing with you in every game so he could win for the both of you. he even kept the ridiculous goons away from you when you were being threatened by them, and now you were going to lose the only person you trusted in the game.

he was your best friend and your lover, he couldn’t possibly be stripped away from you just like that.

“y/n, please don’t cry, you’re going to make me cry.” he tried to laugh it off, but he felt his eyes stinging.

he gently scooped you up from the ground, making you face him as he pulled you close, your head on his chest as he shushed, rocking you back and forth.

“you’re okay.” he cooed, “you’re a strong girl, you’re going to make it out, right?”

you shook your head ‘no’.

“yeah, you will. you’ll leave the game with the money, find your family and live a happy life.”

“not without you.” you cried. “i can’t do this without you, in-ho, please. i need you.”

his heart broke into a million pieces. this whole character of his was a facade but it suddenly felt all so real for a moment.

in-ho realised that he too couldn’t live without you, but as frontman, he didn’t have a choice. for now, he could only give you the comfort and company you needed.

“look at me, y/n.” he said softly as you lifted your head once more.

“you’re the most beautiful, compassionate and the toughest girl i’ve ever met. you’ve got what it takes to get out of here… my strong girl is still right inside here.” he pointed to your heart, making you sniffle. “i’ve had the best moments of my life playing these games with you.”

“me too.” you admitted.

he cupped your face, pulling you in for a first and last kiss.

it was full of emotion, relief, joy but also grief. when you pulled away, he nodded, asking you to leave as the timer reached your last ten seconds.

without a choice, you slowly walked out into the corridor, leaving in-ho behind. you couldn’t bear to look at him again, tears still streaming down your face as you were escorted to the exit.

then, there was a loud bang. a gunshot.

‘player 002 eliminated.’

it felt like a part of you had died along with him.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

when he had made sure that you made it through the exit, in-ho glared at the guard.

“dickhead, do you know how close that was to my feet?” he scolded, pushing past him as he walked towards the backdoor.

yes, he felt awful about the whole faking his death thing. but what choice did he have? he knew that he couldn’t let you die on his behalf, he was going to get out of the game either way.

but a part of him was filled with overwhelming sadness, because this meant that meeting you would just be a memory now. there was no way he could face you again.

he sat alone in the dark back in his control room, whiskey in hand as he tried to drown the pain.

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

when you met up again with gi-hun, you ran up to hug him but your tears wouldn’t stop flowing. you sobbed the entire time, it didn’t a genius to immediately know what had happened.

he stayed with you the whole night. even when you jerked awake from nightmares, gi-hun made sure to calm you down, ensuring that you got enough rest.

during meal time when you could only stare at your food, he ensured that he kept the food, just in case you ever got hungry in the middle of the night.

little did you know, in-ho kept watch too from behind the screen.

there was a sense of comfort as he watched gi-hun treat you as if you were his very own daughter. he knew that you were in safe hands… for now.

but he knew that sang-woo had turned completely cold-hearted. he was going to be a threat to your safety.

in-ho picked up the walkie talkie on his table, “keep player 455 safe, whatever it takes.”

but how was he going to keep sang-woo away from you?

· · · ──── 𖣠𖣠𖣠 ──── · · ·

a little angst couldn’t hurt anyone.

[pathologicalreid]

green-eyed monster | s.r.

in which Spencer comforts your oldest daughter when she's jealous of the new addition to the family

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: jealousy, newborn baby, not proofread, i might be missing something word count: 1.48k a/n: girl dad spencer!!! everyone cheered!!!!

Spencer carefully shut the bedroom door behind him, cringing when he heard the door latch, hoping it didn’t wake you or the baby. Getting her to sleep last night had been a struggle, leaving her with two very sleep-deprived parents, but seeing as you were the one who had been feeding the newborn, Spencer did his best to let you catch up on sleep.

Not only did you need to rest, but he’d been the one to give your elder daughter dolls to play with this morning, and that distraction would only work for so long. Sure enough, there were little feet running down the hallway, nearly colliding with Spencer’s legs as she skidded to a halt. “Mama,” she gasped, out of breath from running.

“Hey, lovey,” Spencer whispered, holding a finger to his lips, “Mama’s sleeping.” He tried to herd her downstairs to fix her something for lunch.

She tried to slip between his legs to get to the door, but before she reached the doorknob, he swiftly scooped her up and set her on his hip, “Nooooo,” she whined, trying to climb out of his grasp and reach out for the bedroom door again. “Mama,” she called again, her little nose crinkling as tears well in her eyes.

Leah went limp in his arms as she realized that he wasn’t going to be bringing her to see you anytime soon. “Oh,” Spencer cooed as he hoisted her up, resting her head on his chest, each tear that sept through his t-shirt breaking his heart. “Honey, mama’s asleep, we can see her later,” he tried to assure her, but sometimes reasoning with a toddler was a miserable waste of time.

“The sun is awake, so Mama can be awake,” she insisted, huffing as Spencer set her down at the breakfast bar so he could start filtering through the meal options. Penelope had set up a meal train to help out, and he eyed the Tupperware in the fridge and wondered if chicken nuggets were going to be a better option.

Pulling out the freezer drawer, Spencer grabbed the bag of frozen nuggets and set them on the counter before preheating the oven. “Mama and Lacy were awake with the moon last night, so they need a little extra time away from the sun,” Spencer explained, rounding the counter so he could stand next to Leah.

He rested his hip against the marble countertop, reaching a hand out and smoothing back her curls. He found himself wishing he had a hair tie with him to pull the wispy strands from her face. “Lacy’s stupid,” Leah mumbled, resting her face in her hands and pouting.

Spencer leaned over the counter, resting his palm on the cool stone and taking a deep breath, “We don’t say stupid.”

“But I did,” she countered, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms in front of her chest. Everyone had warned you about the shift from one kid to two, but you hadn’t had enough insight about how to handle the jealousy from the older child.

He couldn’t blame her; she’d been the only child for years before you introduced a second baby into the mix. Not to mention, she’s only three, and her understanding of babies is limited at best. “Do you remember when Mama and I told you that the new baby needs extra help? It’s ‘cause she’s so little.”

Leah grumbled something indiscernible under her breath. The baby had been exciting for her when she got to tag along to doctors’ appointments and help paint the nursery, but ever since the two of them met in the hospital, Leah’s been almost hostile. “I want Mama,” she whispered, sticking out her bottom lip.

Spencer sighed defeatedly, “I know, lovey. I’m sorry,” he resisted his urge to bring Leah to see you. He wanted to wipe the pout from her face but couldn’t do it at the cost of waking you and Lacy up.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen you in the week since you got home from the hospital, just last night, Spencer had volunteered to take Lacy while the two of you watched a movie in the master bedroom—you both fell asleep watching Finding Nemo.

As he made sure Leah was taken care of, he worried that in the stress of preparing to become parents to two, he had neglected to take the time to prepare Leah to be a big sister. You’d gotten her a bigger bed, complete with a princess canopy, and helped her learn how to play by herself, but none of that mattered if she felt like you didn’t have time for her.

Quietly, Spencer brought Leah back upstairs, watching her carefully in case she tried to get to you, but she veered over to her bedroom instead and climbed up on her bed. Leaving the door open a crack, he laid down next to her on the bed. “Why can’t Mama play?”

“Because Mama just had a baby, and that makes you sleepy and it hurts a lot, so we need to let her get rest,” he spoke gently, turning on his side so he could mind Leah’s reaction to his words. Sometimes he felt like you had a better time getting through to her. “I’m sure Mama will play with you again once she rests more.”

Leah huffed, “Stupid Lacy.” She laid down on her back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Spencer propped his head up on his arm, “Leah,” he said, a slight warning in his tone, “Do you have kinder words to say about Lacy?”

She mumbled an answer, and he playfully poked at her side until she spoke up, “You called her princess.”

Frowning, he scanned through his memory to recall calling Lacy princess. He had called her princess, one time in the hospital when the two girls first met. “Did it bother you that I used the same nickname for the baby that I use for you?”

The toddler nods softly, sinking further into the fluffy pillows on her bed.

“Will it be okay if I keep using the same nickname for you, Lacy, and mama?” Spencer asked, tenderly reaching out and sweeping some stray hairs from her forehead.

“No,” she answered shortly.

Spencer hummed in response, “You know, it’s a very important job to be the oldest princess.” Leah looked over at him curiously, his first baby. “Someday, Lacy’s gonna need you instead of needing mama, and I need to know that I can trust you,” he continued.

Leah’s pout faded softly, “Need me?”

Nodding, Spencer smiled softly, “Uh huh, she’ll need her big sister.”

“Oh,” she breathed, brown eyes going wide with recognition and curiosity.

“She just needs to get a little bigger first, okay? You have to be patient,” Spencer reminded her of what was easily her least favorite task. That was only further emphasized by the way she scrunched up her nose at the mention of patience.

The two of them waited in silence while Leah seemingly processed the information that had been given to her, “Daddy?”

Spencer looked back up at her, “Yes, princess?”

She shook her head dramatically, “Mama can’t be a princess,” she claimed.

He might’ve laughed, but the look on her face told him that she was dead serious, “Oh? Why not?”

She sat up on the bed, crisscrossing her legs beneath her, curiously touching the tulle of her canopy, “If sissy and I are princesses, then Mama has to be the queen.”

“You’re right,” Spencer told her with the same confidence, “Your Mama is a queen.”

Giggling, Leah went back to lay down on the bed, the two of them sharing a suspicious look when the door to her bedroom creaked open, revealing you on the other side, “Mama!” Leah called out excitedly, standing up on the bed, Spencer could see her physically restraining herself from jumping on the mattress, which was off limits.

Your tired eyes lit up as you walked into the room, handing Spencer Lacy’s baby monitor before laying down on the opposite side of the bed. “Hi, lovey,” you greeted her, pressing a kiss to one of her soft cheeks.

“Guess what?” She asked, looking mischievously between her two parents.

Narrowing your eyes as you pretended to think about it, you smiled at your daughter, “Hm, what?”

Leah beamed at you, “Daddy said you’re a queen!”

Your eyebrows shot up, pleasantly surprised by your toddler’s secret, “Oh, he did, did he?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Mhm, and sissy and I are princesses,” she proclaimed.

“So, Princess Leah, what do you think of our castle then?” You asked her softly, tapping the tip of her nose and eliciting a fit of giggles from the three-year-old.

She furrowed her eyebrows, looking around her own bedroom critically before turning back to her parents, “It could use more pink.”

[wheneverfeasible]

Steve’s used to not being loved.

He’d known his parents didn’t love him since he was a young child. He’d known that the girls he casually took on dates and occasionally fucked didn’t love him. He’d known Tommy and Carol didn’t love him like friends were supposed to. They all loved his reputation, sure, but not him. It was easy though because he didn’t love them either.

He’d loved his parents once, a long time ago. Back before they were practically strangers, but that love had been the obligation of biology. He’d thought he loved Tommy and Carol, but it had all been too surface level and focused on popularity.

He had loved Nancy though. He finally found someone he could start to be his true self with and he loved her and he thought she loved him, only…only she didn’t.

He couldn’t blame her. After a while, when the same thing keeps happening, you kind of have to look for the common factor in all those loveless relationships and see what the real issue was. Simply put…

Steve was just unloveable.

Maybe it was his past. Not that he’d actually been a bully or anything, he’d actually shut down a lot of bullying even among his then-friends and teammates, but he had been kind of self-absorbed. Or maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t as smart as the people he found himself surrounded by. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t anything special, not at the end of the day.

Except he could take a punch.

And slowly, he found people that did love him. The other kids might tolerate him, might like him, but Dustin genuinely loved him, he knew that. Dustin was his original ride-or-die. Dustin might be a little shithead that constantly treated Steve like he was stupid, but he was like his brother. And Dustin also make him feel amazing and wanted and loved.

And then there was Robin. Most amazing of all really was that Robin loved him. His Platonic soulmate. His other ride-or-die. She saw him at his lowest and saw him at his highest, was there for him when he had stuff he didn’t want to drop on a teen boy who should be worrying about pimples and bad hair days, not interdimensional monsters and evil wizards. Robin made him feel loved too, even if she also sometimes teased him a little too sharply.

There was also Max of course. He’d been surprised at receiving a letter from her too, back when Vecna had been after her. He’d read it, back when she’d been in her coma. She hadn’t said she loved him, but it was there in other ways. The big brother she should have had all along.

So yeah, okay, Steve was loved. But it was platonic. It was friends, his new kind of family even, but it wasn’t the love he’d always wanted and never had. He just accepted the fact that people didn’t love him that way.

Which was why, when he realized he was in love with Eddie, he just sighed and accepted it and never changed anything in the way he interacted with the other man. He didn’t bother telling Eddie because he knew there was no point. Besides, Robin called him out on it, said he was being so obvious about his feelings, but Eddie never said anything too.

So okay. Steve was in love with Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t in love with Steve. Eddie also didn’t treat Steve any differently despite knowing that Steve loved him. After all, if Steve was so obvious about it, then Eddie had to know too already, right?

So Steve watched Eddie come out to them, had nodded along when Eddie nervously explained what bisexuality was, having already had his own crisis before though he realized he’d never officially come out either. But then if his feelings for Eddie were so obvious, he figured he didn’t have to, so he didn’t say anything and let Eddie have his moment.

And it didn’t matter that Eddie liked guys. He still couldn’t love Steve, so Steve just accepted it and let it be. He didn’t flinch when Eddie mentioned meeting a guy in the city, was even downright friendly when Eddie eventually brought the guy around to meet everyone.

It hurt, of course, but Steve’s feelings were his own problem; he wasn’t going to let the fact that he was in love with one of his best friends make things awkward. Eddie was nice enough that he never told Steve to knock it off when Steve got a little too touchy with him, though Steve backed off in his own when Eddie seemed a little panicked about it sometimes.

Steve was even there for Eddie when Eddie came over crying because he and guy broke up. He wouldn’t tell Steve why they broke up, not entirely, but eventually Steve learned it was because Eddie had feelings for someone else this entire time.

Steve wondered who it was, but in any case he just hoped Eddie got to be happy with them eventually. He later told Eddie one day when Eddie was over that he was a great guy, obviously, and anyone Eddie liked would be a lucky person. He hoped he didn’t sound judgmental about it, didn’t want Eddie to think he was being petty or whatever, but Eddie just looked sad again and left soon after.

Steve knew he had a problem about being too much sometimes. It had pushed Nancy away, and every girl he’d tried to date afterwards never really liked him enough either. It was still just his reputation and his hair that got him dates, not who he was himself. That was fine. Temporary companionship was better than nothing he supposed.

And life continued, and Steve kept loving Eddie, and he was content that Eddie let him love him, even if there was no hope of it being reciprocated.

And then Steve went on a date with a guy.

It was…okay. The guy was a lot handsier than Steve would like, and kind of boring when compared to Eddie, but Steve just shrugged and figured that at least it’s be someone else’s hand this time. And it was okay. No great spark or anything. More of a glorified one night stand than anything, but it was fine.

He knew he needed to get out dating again. Girls and guys. His love for Eddie wasn’t abating at all, so he couldn’t bring himself to actually date anyone, but he could do hookups.

Which was how Eddie found him one day, mouth around some guy at a bar in Indy because they had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Oops. It was a little annoying though that Eddie looked as upset as he did. He appreciated the fact that Eddie didn’t call him out for his unwanted feelings, but it wasn’t fair that he thought Steve shouldn’t be able to move on.

They got into a fight.

They never exactly said what they were fighting about with words, but Eddie yelled at him for having unsafe sex, while Steve yelled at him for being a hypocrite, and then Eddie yelled at him for leading the guy on, and Steve said that that was a bit rich coming from him.

And Eddie was yelling and yelling and yelling about who knows what, telling Steve he shouldn’t be having random hookups in bathrooms when he wasn’t even gay, and Steve yelled that bisexual men can have bathroom hookups too, and that seemed to surprise Eddie for some reason.

In any case, it caused him to shut up for long enough for Steve to angrily tell him that just because Steve loved him, it didn’t give him the right to tell Steve what he could or could not do, especially when he knew Eddie didn’t love him back.

And then…

“You…you love me?” Eddie choked out, his eyes wide as he stared across the dark alley outside the bar, where he’d dragged Steve after catching him on his knees.

Steve rolled his eyes, jutting out one hip to place a hand on while the other hand ran aggressively through his hair. It was started to rain while they were in the bar, a light drizzle that was slowly weighing down their hair, not that either of them paid it any mind.

“Jesus, Munson, are you really going to make me listen to the whole spiel again?” He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This is bullshit, I’m bullshit, my love is bullshit, yadda yadda yadda. Or are we going the other way? The sad puppy eyes and the fact that you like someone else and it could never be me? I already know all this, Munson.”

Eddie continued gaping at Steve like a fish. It was starting to make him vaguely uncomfortable. Eddie shook his head, long strands of hair whipping wetly around him. “H-how long have you loved me?” Eddie whispered.

Steve’s frown deepened. “I don’t know, man. You probably clocked it before I even did. I just barely realized like a year and half ago.”

Eddie’s eyes bugged further. “You’ve love me for a year and a half?” he asked incredulously, making Steve’s frown turn from annoyance to confusion.

“You already knew this, Eddie.”

“I most certainly did not!”

And…oh. Oof. Okay. Steve grimaced and held his hands up suddenly in a surrender sort of way. “Yikes. Okay, well, this doesn’t have to change anythi—”

“This changes everything!” Eddie exclaimed in what others might cause a shriek.

Steve winced, taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. “Eddie…Eddie, please, c’mon,” he tried to reason, feeling dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He was suddenly remembering all the times he’d invaded Eddie’s space, how many times he’d flirted back with Eddie’s fake flirting, thinking it was okay because the other man knew how he felt.

Fuck. Fuck, he’d fucked up again.

“Eddie, I know you don’t love me, okay,” he rushed to say. “I know you can never love me. I get it, okay? I’m not trying to force you to feel any way or anything. Just like with Robin and Nancy, the fact that I like you doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Not…Steve,” Eddie said, reaching up to grip and pull at his own hair as an incredulous laugh escaped him. “Steve, I fucking love you.”

Steve tried not to let that hurt. He knew Eddie probably didn’t get how much him saying that pained Steve since it wasn’t the kind of love he was talking about, so he wasn’t going to get upset at him over that.

“I know,” he sighed, slowly letting himself relax his body posture. “I know you love me in a friend way. And that’s enough for me, really! I love you like a friend too, so the fact that I also—”

“No Steve,” Eddie cut in again, and while he seemed exasperated, a wide smile was also starting to curl over his lips. “Robin was right and you really are a dingus. I mean, yes, I love you as a friend, but I’m also in love with you. Romantic styles.”

“I…” Steve blinked. He tried to understand Eddie’s words but they didn’t make sense. “What?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh, and the smile curled on his lips stretched out into a grin. He took a step closer. “I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington. I have been since…hell, probably since you went all Ozzy on me. But definitely since I woke up in the hospital to you holding my hand.”

Steve’s stomach swooped. “I don’t understand,” he said, and even to his own ears there was a small whine there. “You don’t…people don’t love me,” he pointed out. “They can’t. There’s something about me that just makes it impossible.”

Eddie scoffed, reaching out once he was closer enough to curl his fingers in the sleeves at Steve’s biceps. They were both now well and truly wet from the rain, but neither of them paid any attention to it at all.

“Now that’s bullshit, Harrington. You’re so fucking easy to love. As a friend and as something…more. I love you, Steve.”

Steve wanted to deny it again, wanted to say that that was impossible, because…because he’d never heard those words. Sure, Dustin and Robin told him they loved him, but romantically? Even Nancy had never told him that in those words. Not even in a lie. He couldn’t fully comprehend that he was hearing them now.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie breathed, his hands moving to cup Steve’s jaw. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life telling you that. You’re stuck with me now, big boy.”

And then Eddie kissed him.

Eddie was true to his words. He told Steve he loved him every single day, told him with his words and his actions and when it was legal, he told him again in front of all their friends and found family when he made a vow as a his husband.

And Steve? Well, it took a while for him for actually believe it, but nowadays? When Eddie kisses him good morning every day in bed, whispering his devotion, and every night doing the same, telling Steve he’ll see him in his dreams? Well…

Steve’s used to being loved. And he spends every day loving in return.

~

Hi hello I have no idea what this is but I just started typing and then I didn’t stop until this was completed lol

Hostage hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[yanderewhxrewrites]

I can just imagine going through a surrogacy with Kirishima and Bakugo.

By this time they're in their mid-thirties, all big and beefy, and both being in the top ten hero ranks. They've been married for a while, and both desperately want to have their own little family. So it's no surprise when they both decide on finally biting the bullet and getting a surrogate. Bakugo can't stop complaining about the paperwork, and Kirishima is trying his best to stop his husband from scaring away all of the women they are interviewing. 

Fast forwards, and it's been months, and yet they still haven't found the right person to carry their future child. That is until they meet you, and you're perfect. You had even surprised them when you told Bakugo off after he had made a snide comment—probably about something stupid knowing him.  You were everything they were looking for, and of course you couldn't say no to carrying the child to two of the most famous people in the country. 

But what you hadn't expected was immediately moving in with them for your safety, of course. They were some of the top heroes, and they had made plenty of enemies in their lifetime. You were going to carry their child, and they were sure as hell not going to let anything happen to you. 

Soon enough, you are waddling around their house, pregnant and absolutely breathtaking to their eyes. I mean—they both knew they were in trouble when they had met you, but now seeing you pregnant with their child?

They were absolutely screwed. 

Of course, you are completely oblivious to the fact they had both fallen deeply in love with you. In your eyes, they were just two big, beefy handsome men who had spent the past months spoiling you and taking care of you while also making sure to get to know you and make you as comfortable as you could be. 

Sigh

It's hard to be in love with two men at the same time, especially when they are married and you are the one carrying their baby.

[brawberryz]

Goodbye World

BatFam Yan! × Neglected Magic Girl! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Pt: 2

"(NAME), PLEASE DON'T GO!"

the girl screamed trying to stop her, this couldn't be happening, this shouldn't have happened, I was supposed to have more time but your transformation accelerated

"I'm sorry, ######, but there's no time left... sorry"

"Please (Name)!, don't go..."

The girl felt tears falling from her face, she was supposed to save you but she made the same mistake again...

"Goodbye"

You gave her one last smile before falling to the ground and your body began to deform

"(NAMEE)!"

The girl screamed for the last time before your vision went dark, there was no more pain or suffering, you felt like your body was deformed but you couldn't feel or do anything it was like you only had your conscience left

The original (name) had disappeared forever, and there was nothing else to do

Or well, maybe there was something they could do

_

Bruce was sitting in front of the batcomputer trying to find any trace of you, but there was nothing, not even a trace, it was like you had vanished in the wind

He felt too bad since your last interaction with you, if he had known what would happen he would never have let you go from that hug

But it's just "would have" it was too late to regret but he could still fix things, he would find you and take you home with everyone else and finally have the family you always dreamed of

"We found nothing, not a single clue"

Richard entered the batcave feeling defeated Again, he went out with the whole family to look for some clue but there was nothing, they even tried to see if some villain had you kidnapped but there was no one who knew about you

"This is shit"

Jason said angrily while leaning against a wall, as much as he didn't want to admit it in a way it was his fault he always treated you badly and insulted you

You had too many reasons to leave the mansion and hate all of them, but if he was honest he hated the feeling that you had left, you are supposed to be a family and you should stay together

Wherever you are they will find you and when they do they will never let you escape from their hands again

"And Tim?"

Bruce asked without taking his eyes off the Batcomputer, he hated feeling like he couldn't be in control, not having control over you, like he always had

"He decided to stay a little longer to patrol and see if he found something"

Jason said putting his hands in his jacket pockets, wherever you are he just hoped you were okay although knowing how Gotham is, it would be a miracle if you were okay without a single scratch

"I'm leaving here"

Damian spoke as he walked angrily out of the batcave, a part of him was angry with you and with himself, he was angry with you because you abandoned him without even saying goodbye or giving him reasons, you decided to hide and not tell anyone

He hated having things hidden from him, and at the same time he was angry with himself for how he treated you in the past, but he had changed he swears! When you get back to the mansion she'll be the best sister you've ever seen

"Damian, wait-"

Richard tries to stop him but Damian just pushes him out of his way before yelling at him

"SHUT UP, I don't plan on staying here even a minute longer.(Name) is lost somewhere in this stupid city and all we do is stay here like idiots"

Damian said angrily as he quickly left the batcave

Richard just sighed, when Damian had something in mind there was nothing that would stop him from reaching it, not even his own family

_

Damian walked angrily down the hallway of the mansion cursing under his breath

He continued walking until a door caught his attention, it was half open and he could barely see the small light coming out

Curious, he decided to open it, he was surprised when he realized it was your room...

It was small but still well decorated, it bothered him a little that your room was so far away from the others

He didn't want to invade your privacy (if he wanted to) but the curiosity about your things was too great, he began looking in your drawers but only found unfinished crafts or clothes

It seemed strange to him that all your clothes were still in their place, if the theory that you ran away was true you should have brought some clothes, but everything was completely in order

As he continued looking he found a photo album, it seemed old since it had some dust

He removed the dust that it had and decided to open it, there was almost nothing interesting just photos of you, some from when you were little and others from your birthdays

But there was one that caught his attention, you were in a park with a girl, it seemed to him It was strange that you had left since you never left the mansion

He was also very bothered by the approach that girl had with (name), who did she think she was to touch her sister like that?

But if he was honest, in that photo you really looked happy...

You didn't have that forced happiness like in all the photos, in this one it was seen that you really felt happy with that strange girl

He put aside the album and went back to searching through your things to see if he could find something else

Some of your drawers were full of board games full of dust, he remembered that once you asked him to play one with you but he simply ignored you and said that you had time for children's games

A soft voice took him out of his thoughts

"What are you doing in (name)'s room?"

Cassadran asked, looking at Damian with doubt. She thought it was strange that he was in your room since she thought she was the only one besides Alfred who knew your room.

"Something that doesn't matter to you."

Damian answered abruptly as he continued searching through your drawers.

"You seem too worried about her to be going through her things without permission."

Cassadran spoke again. She thought it was strange that none of the family members were around the house, but she didn't pay much attention and decided to go to your room to greet you. But she was surprised when she found Damian searching through your things.

"So what? It doesn't matter now that (name) is missing. I don't think it will bother her. Besides, it's for research purposes."

Damian was getting tired of Cass's insistence, because out of nowhere he is so worried about his privacy. Were you two close?

"Missing?"

Cassadran repeated in surprise, that answer hit Cass hard, she never imagined it would really happen, were you able to leave the mansion? Although if she was honest you had reasons to leave this fucking place

"Yes, my sister is missing and apparently I'm the only one who cares about her and tries to find some clue, so go away you're just bothering me"

Damian let out a snort of annoyance before resuming his search through your things

"She's your sister now?"

That answer took Damian by surprise, what the hell was she referring to

"What..."

"She's your sister now?" Cass repeated again before speaking again "you always left her aside, well, everyone left them aside and I include myself but it seems hypocritical to me that you want to blame others when you are also guilty, you always look to blame others for your problems because you are an egocentric and selfish person who only thinks about himself, you don't care about her you just want to have a reason not to feel bad about yourself"

Those words left Damian speechless, he hated to admit it but she was right although he would never admit it out loud

He simply looked away and focused on continuing to search pretending as if Cassandra's words hadn't mattered to him

Cass turned around and left the room before giving Damian one last look

Deep down she hoped you were okay wherever you were, but if you were truly lost she was going to do whatever it took to find you, she wasn't going to allow herself to lose another important thing for her, not anymore

_

Tim was jumping from building to building trying to find some clue about you, but there was nothing. He had been investigating criminals, villains or gangs all night but no one knew anything about you.

At this point the guilt was drowning him, he felt like the worst brother in the world. How could he forget someone so important?

Most likely you are now in some dangerous place, alone and scared thinking that no one will go looking for you because you are not important enough for them.

But he will do everything possible to find you, I promise.

He decided to stop at the top of a tall building so he could rest. He felt the worst. He had been patrolling all over Gotham for more than 4 hours but had found nothing. At this point he felt like he would never find you. No...no, if he found you he should not lose hope. You were somewhere in this place...he just had to find out where.

He felt something fast approaching him. Before he could react correctly and dodge it, a supernatural force ended up throwing him against the fire escape of another building.

Shit... that hurt, he was sure he broke his back or some rib, that thing that pushed him had too much force, it was clear that it was not a criminal or villain, they were too fast and strong to be one

But before he could get up he saw how a black mass with a strange figure approached quickly

It was easily the size of a damn bus or bigger, whatever it was was not human, that black mass reminded him too much of someone, he felt that he knew that figure from somewhere

But before he could think that large figure ended up hitting him again

It seemed as if that thing had something personal with him like some kind of hatred or resentment

Tim tried with all his strength to recover from that last blow, he had to warn the others about this thing and to come quickly before this strange creature taken from a horror story finished him off

With his last strength he grabbed the communicator and sent a signal for help before that thing hit him again now with more force causing his body to hit a wall

It seems you already have your first victim in your hands, you were going to finish off all those who made you feel miserable and you were going to make them feel the same pain that they made you feel

The original (name) had already died, the only thing left was this creature full of resentment and hatred

You were going to destroy every person who stood in your way and if that meant having to destroy the city or the world you were going to do it

"MADOKA PLEASE DON'T GO" aahhh reference 😭🙏💀

Sorry if it's too short or something, I hope you enjoy this shitty chapter

You can leave me questions or anything about this AU, I'll be happy to answer them🙏

[wileys-russo]

leah, training, “can i sleep on you please?” or something like that

just one more II l.williamson

"oh no leah come on do we have to!" you groaned as your fiancé clicked into netflix and loaded up yet another season of the crown.

"yes! babe, this is educational and entertaining." the blonde patted your knee with a grin as you groaned even louder and slumped down deeper into the sofa.

"leah i hate to break it to you but as an australian i have zero interest in the royal family, or their arguments over tea trades and affairs!" you scoffed, you respected that the blonde had an illustrious interest in it however that respect lessened when she tried forcing it onto you.

the pair of you had been together for years now and somehow you'd managed to scrape by mostly unscathed, growing very able to block out her ramblings with hums and nods which seemed to appease her.

but then beth just had to go and get her into the crown, interrupting the calm and steady flow of your home routine and especially your once sacred movie nights.

no more would you be curled up together, sharing commentary and laughter and an occasional kiss, arguing over who got the last handful of popcorn, half of the bowl littering the ground where you'd been tossing it at each other trying to catch it in your mouths.

no now you had to try and stay awake through the gruelingly boring slow burned torture that was this show and leahs obsession with it, fighting to keep your eyes open and having to put up with leahs 'tests' that you were paying attention.

you'd tried to leave her to it, going to watch a movie or a show of your own in the bedroom but the moodiness and sulking and the pouts and the dramatic sighs that would echo out for hours from the living room just weren't worth it.

"okay baby, its eleven and we have to be up for the morning session at six, we can't be late again!" you decided for the pair of you, reaching for the remote and quirking an eyebrow when leah quickly snatched it back.

"leah-" "just one more! you can go to bed, but i have to finish this season." "lee there's three more episodes in the season! you may as well come to bed with me now, and watch them tomorrow afternoon when we get back." you tried to bargain but it was no use with the stubborn blonde who firmly shook her head, remote still held tightly to her chest.

"fine! you're a grown woman, you can make your own choices. one more leah, don't be stupid." you warned sternly as your fiance hummed with a firm nod. "just one more pretty girl, i promise."

"goodnight, your highness!" you mocked, pressing your lips to hers a few times as she squeezed your hips, nipping at your bottom lip for the teasing comment.

only as you woke suddenly around four in the morning needing to use the bathroom, you realised maybe you should have fought a little harder to get leah to come to bed with you, the defenders side still empty.

"for fuck sakes." you grumbled tiredly, wiping the sleep from the corner of your eye and swinging out of bed, stomping off to the living room where sure enough the blonde was hanging half off the sofa with her mouth wide open.

she choked on air and hit the floor with a thump as you smacked her in the face with a cushion, gasping as she sat up and found you to be glaring down at her.

"why the hell would you do that jesus christ woman are you trying to put me into cardiac arrest!?" leah clutched her chest and exhaled shakily. "leah it is four in the fucking morning, get your ass into bed right now!" you growled pointing behind you as the taller girl got to her feet, trudging off still grumbling under her breath.

"i swear to god leah you better get up when that alarm goes off tomorrow, if you refuse i'll leave you here and go by myself." you warned seriously getting into bed beside her and smacking away her hands which tried to draw your body into hers.

"seriously?" "seriously, goodnight williamson." "you know a few more months and you'll be a williamson." "well i haven't said i do yet." "hey!"

~

"nope!" your hand banged down on the table with a loud smack causing the blonde across from you to shoot upwards where her head had once been resting on the cafeteria table.

"i warned you leah." you took a bite of toast as the girl whined and buried her face in her hands. "long night then eh?" beth teased as she joined the pair of you, steph, lia and laura not far behind.

"this is your fault!" you poked at the girls chest accusingly who scoffed. "me? what did i do!" she frowned as once again your hand smacked down against the table causing leah to jolt and sit upright again.

"got her into that awful show that she stayed up until four in the morning watching. its taken over our house, our date nights, our dinner conversations, you're a menace!" you huffed, stabbing at your eggs and shoving them into your mouth.

"what show?" "the crown! she's addicted!"

"oo what season are you up to? i really liked-" steph started excitedly, falling short at the dirty glare you sent her in response. "stephanie you're supposed to be on my side!" you scowled making the older girl grin, reaching over to shove your head to the side.

"nah, where's the fun in that?" "traitor to your own country." "aw does it make you mad?" the brunette cooed pinching your cheek as you swatted her hand away, everyone finishing up their food as leah fought to stay awake, munching away on her toast.

"baby please, let me just take a little nap, i'll say i need physio or something." your fiance grumbled as you all filed out of the cafeteria heading for the change rooms, the air ablaze with chatter.

"nope, not a chance. i already warned them!" you shook your head firmly with a slight smile at the way your fiance threw her head back with a groan, moping after you into the change rooms where everyone was already swapping over their trainers to cleats.

"come on, can i sleep on you please? just five minutes." the blonde slumped over into you, grabbing onto your shirt and pressing her face into your neck.

"i love you. you're so pretty. and i'm so tired!" leah whined as you unhooked her fingers from the material of your training top. "well you should have listened to your pretty fiance when she told you to come to bed." you pouted mockingly, kissing her cheek and bending down to lace up your boots.

~

"oi watch it kyra!" leah yelped, ducking the ball which was booted at her head where she'd been leaning against the goal post in between drills. "sorry leah!" the brunette grinned showing she was anything but, alessia grabbing her in a headlock as you snickered.

"what did you do?" steph appeared beside you with a knowing look at the amused smile on your face, having seen it many many times in the years she'd known you and played beside you for country and club.

"me? nothing!" you gasped with mock offence, steph humming and staring you down as your grin widened. "i might have slipped kyra a little money to make sure leah stays...sharp, today." you admitted with a sly smile, steph shaking her head though it wasn't with disbelief.

"oh she's going to kill you, pest." "well she can't do that if she's asleep now, can she stephanie?"

"kyra i swear to god if you kick that ball at me one more time i'm going to shove it down your throat!"

[deadsetobsessions]

Fae adjacent! Danny pt. 2

Timothy Drake hadn’t figured out what Danny Fenton was. The shop keeper had been kind, something the nine year old hadn’t expected when he walked into Danny’s shop, willing to trade away his name and soul to get Jason back.

As the young man tilted his head at Jason’s grave, something distinctly inhuman crossing his face as he smelt the soil, Tim had the slightest inkling that he didn’t want to know.

Tim, despite what most people would say, had some kind of self preservation instinct. He wouldn’t have survived traipsing after vigilantes in Gotham this long if he didn’t.

He did not want to find out what kind of creature Danny Fenton could be when enraged. (Despite the fear, something in Tim trilled in Danny presence. Safety, it said. Acceptance.)

——

Danny hummed. The soil here had been disturbed. The dead had not stayed dead. Danny smirked. He knew a bit about not staying dead.

“Your Jason isn’t here, little Sparrow.”

“What?”

“See the soil?”

The little sparrow- Tim- curiously looked down. Danny was sure the kid was smart and a few seconds later, he was proven right.

“The soul’s fresh. Overturned. Someone dug him up? No. An indent. No soil on the outside of the burial, it’s not square- he dug himself up?”

Danny sent the little sparrow an approving smile. “Well, Gotham was never known for its rule abiding citizens, dead or not.”

The little sparrow sighed. “Great. He’s a zombie now?”

“Not quite. Come, we will find your brother.”

“He's, uh, not my brother.”

Danny blinked, pausing. “You would give your name for someone who isn’t family?”

Tim flushed. “He’s- he’s my hero!”

"He'd better be thankful for this, then. What a good friend you are, little sparrow."

Tim lowered his voice, "He doesn't know I exist?”

Danny stared at him and wondered if Phantom ever had anyone who would give their names for him. He also wondered if the standard for human stupidity had lowered since he woke up.

“You see how that's worse, right?"

"Can we get this done, please? Preferably before Batman comes out at night?"

"There are worse things than the Bat, but yes, we may. This way."

As Danny led the way, following the scent of a newly retethered soul and trace amounts of what this world called Lazarus Pits, he found himself wondering who taught this kid his self preservation instincts because they needed to be fired. Tim had followed him, through shady alleys and darkened roads, without a thought for his own safety.

They reached the door of what clearly was a pixie den. Before Danny entered, he turned to Tim. "You, little sparrow, would be the first to be murdered in a poorly done horror movie. Now, stay here while I get Jason."

With that said and satisfaction taken from Tim's flabbergasted and insulted face, Danny headed inside the pixie den to collect the wayward soul.

——

"It's Danny!"

"Danny!"

The pixies in the room cheered as he walked in. Their teeth were a bit too sharp, ears a little too pointed, with shirts that did not fit quite right at their backs.

"Hey, guys." Danny strode to the room, following the scent of Jason's soul. "

"Ah, interested in our fresh catch?" One of the more... prolific pixies sidled up to him. "I think we'll make good entertainment of this boy yet. Maybe even the king would like a gift. His soul's pretty strong, mind's almost dead though."

Danny turned to the pixie and smiled. "I'm coming to collect on my contract, unfortunately."

The bar fell to complete silence. The mist and haze of the bar settled and drew back from the tinge of green in Danny's eyes. Oberon might have ruled his court but Danny's court was above even his.

"Oh- I. Yes, of course, please." The pixie stepped back hastily. Danny strode the rest of the way, content in the unnatural silence of the normally chatty pixies. He picked Jason up from the seat, frowning as he caught the scent of mind numbing herbal paste in the food in front of the kid.

"The children," he uttered commandingly. "Are off limits."

"But-!"

Danny clicked his tongue chidingly as he began leading the unsteady kid out the door.

"It isn't quite the days of old anymore, where people are aware of normal trickery. If an adult falls for your schemes, then that is on them. Children? No. To pick on a newly tethered soul is too far into my court for me to turn a blind eye."

"How are we supposed to do anything with the bat watching the skies?"

"Then fly below him," Danny drew his lips back, allowing Phantom to flicker onto his human face and warping it to something more inhuman. Like them.

"We understand," the bar's proprietor agreed. "Your word will be heard and heeded, king of another court."

"Much appreciated."

——

"Jason!"

"One second, little sparrow." Danny focused, drawing upon the chaotic magic that laid beneath the thrum of ectoplasm. He, oddly enough, has had enough practice returning memories to make this process as easy as a twist of his hand. Jason went limp.

"Jason!" Tim's cry had a little more panic in it.

"Worry not, he's simply sleeping. Regained memories tend to be quite taxing." He shuffled Jason a little closer to Tim. "Here you are, little sparrow. One Jason, whole and generally unharmed."

Tim glanced at Jason and then at himself. He sheepishly looked at Danny. "Would you mind helping me get him back home?"

Danny tilted his head back and laughed.

[ebodebo]

Tough As Nails—Giddy Up, Cowboy!

thinking about cowboy!simon riley… MDNI | part two |

<- previous next ->

It had been about a week since your rendezvous with Simon. And, God, had it been consuming every waking and not waking thought.

Every breath, every touch had become engrained in your brain.

Him groaning into your mouth as you rode him. His fingers digging into the tender flesh of your hips as he whispered how fucking hot you looked on him. And, him casually giving you his cowboy hat after he gave you the best orgasm you’d ever had.

You hadn’t spoken since your little sexcapade, not because either of you were ignoring the other but simply because you were both so busy. He had to tend to the livestock and such, and you were up to your head in college work. Busy bees you both were.

But, your mom had made you take a break from your studies to come downstairs to join the camaraderie. So, you found yourself sitting on the corner cushion of the oversized white couch that takes up half of the living room, your family filling in the other seats.

The next half an hour is filled with questions regarding college, city life, and the age-old question of when you will bring a man home. Ah, gotta love being home.

You try to change the subject and bring it back to your cousin, who is engaged, but a figure moving outside catches your eye.

You squint a little to get a better view. It’s Simon. What the hell? He’s still working, and it’s eight o’clock at night. You decide to investigate, quickly excusing yourself and glancing outside until you see his figure walking towards the barn.

“Hey, Cowboy.” You shout, shuffling to his side. He doesn’t even have to look to know it’s you.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He gruffs out as he steps inside the barn.

“It’s eight.” You roll your eyes as you watch him grab a bale of hay. Watching his biceps flex, making his veins bulge, causes you to gulp.

He throws the hay over the fence to where the horses are and turns to face you, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Any reason you’re out here?” He asks, walking past you to grab a bucket of grain.

“I came to help you.” You lift your chin to look at him as he strolls past you again to pour the grain for the sheep.

“Don’t need help.” You tug on your bottom lip as you see his arms bulge again and sweat beads gather around his abdomen, just enough to where you can see the outline of his muscles. God, this is so pathetic.

“It would go by faster with me helping.” You urge, as he doesn’t so much as spare you a glance as he replies.

“Doubt that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your defensive tone finally makes him look at you.

“I don’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m just sayin’ that it doesn’t seem you know a lot about doin’ this kind of stuff.” He casually says as you narrow your eyes.

“This kind of stuff?” You repeat his words, your hands finding refuge on your hips.

“Labor intensive work.” Your eyes widen at his words. Of course, he thinks you’re some rich girl who can’t do anything except shop and date. Asshole.

“Wow.” You gawk, as you bring your hands up to cross across your upper body, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“I didn’t think you thought so little of me, Simon.” Oh shit. You didn’t use that stupid nickname he claims to despise so much; you used his name.

He sighs, dipping his head to look at the ground, pondering a response that won’t piss you off further.

“I don’t think little of you.” He sets the empty bucket down before continuing. “I shouldn’t have said that, okay? I’m sorry.” His words sound genuine, which you know he wouldn’t fake.

“You’re forgiven.” He curtly nods, thinking you’re done. “Only if I get to help you.” You smile as he briefly closes his eyes and sighs, fine.

You spend the better part of an hour assisting him with various tasks, including feeding the calves, fixing a broken fence, and chopping firewood, which quickly became your favorite activity. Primarily because, in between the first and last log, Simon pulled his shirt off, revealing his toned body and hairy chest.

After finishing up, Simon tells you he’ll drive you back to the house since you had to go pretty far to chop the wood.

You stand outside the passenger door as Simon carefully locks up the barn door. Before he makes his way to the driver's door, he stops before you.

“You did good work.” He praises you as he opens your door for you. You don’t step in immediately; you tilt your head up, cheekily smiling.

“Do I get a reward?” His eyes darken at your innuendo, and your breath quickens as you see his body flex.

“You want a reward? I’ll give you a reward.” He steps closer to you, grasping your waist with his hands. He dips his head down and hungrily encases your lips with his own.

It's the same hunger as your first kiss but with less urgency. You could taste your shared breath and feel the thud of your combined heartbeats. Your hands roamed up his chest while his slipped into your hair, threading his fingers through the strands.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You murmur into his mouth as he slips his tongue into yours. He grips you tighter, moving his mouth lower to press deep kisses on the tender skin of your neck.

“Scared your little boyfriend is gonna see us?” He murmurs into your skin. Referring to your guy friend, who you had been friends with for years and who was currently inside chatting with your mom.

“Fuck off. He’s not my boyfriend.” You say, gripping the back of his neck and bringing him back to your lips. “He’s a friend.” You gently nip his bottom lip, making him groan at the sensation.

“Gotta’ lot of guy friends?” He cheekily says, slipping his hand so it’s gently grazing the hem of your shirt.

“Just him.” You breathlessly reply as he slips his hand up your shirt, grazing your stomach as his lips graze against your ear.

“What about me?” He murmurs, gently nipping your ear lobe, making you grip his forearm.

“We are not friends.” He lets out a deep chuckle as he slips his hand past the waistband of your jeans, down to the button, gently unclasping it before pulling your zipper down.

“No? What do you suppose we are then?” He roughly asks as he slides your jeans down a little.

“I don’t know. Acquaintances?” You choke out, gripping his shoulders, as he grazes your cunt over your soaked underwear. He leans down, hovering over your ear.

“Don’t think acquaintances get this wet over each other.” He gently slips a finger under your underwear, carefully grazing your slit. “Do you?”

You can’t even speak. You’re too busy focusing on the way his finger feels in you. Too busy making sure you don’t fall over onto the dirt.

“Huh?” He tuts, slipping his finger entirely in you, grazing your sweet spot. You moan at the direct contact, fully leaning against the side of his truck.

“Probably not.” You manage to choke out as his fingers pump in and out of you, as he dips his head yet again to engulf your lips with his own, only pulling back slightly to praise you.

“Atta’ girl.”

Jesus Christ. You never understood how one single word or phrase could make a person lose it, but, in that moment, you almost came on his hand right then and there.

“You need more?” His husky voice rumbled through your ears, making you ferociously shake your head. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and slips another finger into you, this time lapsing around your clit.

“Fuck.” You moan out, pressing your forehead into his chest. “Feels so good.”

“I can feel.” He murmurs, referring to the multiple times you have clamped around his fingers. His fingers continue to move harmoniously inside you, grazing your clit in the process until you feel your impending orgasm.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. It was strong and intense. You thought riding him gave you the most intense orgasm you’d ever had, but he managed to intensify that with just his two fingers.

After a moment of you slumping against him to come down from your high, he zips and buttons your jeans and opens up the truck door for you to slide in.

Once he slips into his seat, he turns to you.

“You got your reward.” He breathes out, watching as you gently bite your lip.

“Now where’s mine?”

a/n: thank u guys for all of ur kind words on part one! i really appreciated it:)) hopefully, you enjoyed this💕

divider!

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.

Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.

He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.

Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.

Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.

"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.

"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.

A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."

"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.

"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"

"Well, because he's your family."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."

"That's different!"

"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.

"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."

"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Eddie presses.

"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"

"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."

"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."

Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.

"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."

"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."

"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."

Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.

"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."

"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"

"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.

Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.

He's got some thinking to do.