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8thhousemercury · 2 days ago

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Sooner 18876 / Asteroid through the Houses ⏰

This asteroid is an indicator of an area of life and/or traits one accumulated sooner than others. The sign and house especially can show things that had to be dealt with usually at a young age. I consider it mostly positive but retrograde or certain sign placements/aspects can add more challenges. Conjunctions to personal planets can not only emphasize this energy but can have the native take on the traits of that planet at a younger age--for better or for worse.

Sooner 18876 in Aries/1st house/1º, 13º, 25º:

Developed a sense of independence at a young age. These natives were likely more confident in doing things alone compared to their peers. They definitely lost any desire to fit in before they even knew what it was, too. May've been a lot less clingy to their caregivers compared to other kids. They got used to their own company at a very young age and probably have stayed that way ever since. They knew who they were and were very confident in it, which helped them really grow into someone amazing.

Developed athleticism and competitiveness at a young age. These natives were definitely a lot more althetic than other kids when they were younger. This could've made them annoyingly competitive in school or just in general. They may have been forced into a sport but nonetheless came out of it with great talent. Found a lot of value in exercise as it may have helped them manage the stressors of growing up. Also could've chosen a sport at a young age and have stuck with it ever since. Possibly prodigies in said sport.

Developed anger at a young age. This could've obviously been painful, but it ended up helping them by giving them a headstart ;) at observing, understanding, and even managing their own anger. Could've definitely been an angrier child in general but it paid off as they got older. They knew exactly what made them mad and how they would react, and went on to attempt to manage or solve it. Surprisingly emotionally intelligent children and likely helped their peers with this as well.

Retrograde: Their strong sense of independence may have greatly separated them from their peers. Also may have been a little too competitve and therefore earned a lot of eyerolls. May have also taken a bit longer to accumulate athleticism. Also may have lost a few games lol. Or isolated by their team for being too good. Could've had trouble with managing their anger as well. Overall were forced to deal with this Martian energy at a very young age which was likely very painful and confusing.

Sooner 18876 in Taurus/2nd house/2º, 14º, 26º:

Developed a sense of luxury at a young age. May have been introduced to the finer things in life in their childhood and therefore gained an understanding of what makes them feel luxurious. Could've loved playing dress up, the type of kid who puts on their mother's heels and tries on her jewerly just to giggle in the mirror. Very quick to learn not only the monetary value of material possessions but also the emotional and personal value attached to them.

Developed headstrength at a young age. Accumulated a set of beliefs and stuck with them, therefore defending them fiercely whenever needed. They likely were quick to build a life that aligns with the things they believe in. Could've come off as stubborn or annoying to their peers as a result. Had a stronger understanding of what values are and their importance compared to other children their age as well.

Developed a sense of comfort and stability at a young age. May have built an understanding of the things that make them comfortable at a young age. They were probably a lot more comfortable in themselves compared to their peers simply because they were so sure of the things they could do to soothe themselves. They also incorporated their 5 senses into these strategies, which therefore helped them feel more grounded in their bodies. A fairly emotionally healthy placement.

Retrograde: Could've been a bit too materialistic, demanding frequent purchases, never completely satisfied. Their headstrength may have been high but perhaps towards the wrong things at times. Could've defended themselves so much that more was taken out of their life than brought in. Laziness may have been a problem but honestly I see it as moreso of a desire to maintain the sense of peace they crave deeply.

Sooner 18876 in Gemini/3rd house/3º, 15º, 27º:

Developed intelligence at a young age. Probably exceeded some of the expectations for children their age, whether that was in reading or math or any other subject. Not only that, but they also learned how to study at a young age. These natives definitely figured out the best ways for them to absorb information way before others, and as a result, found more success in their intelligence. This can also be an indicator of graduating early from (usually) high school.

Developed motor skills and communication skills at a really young age. This placement reminds me of babies who learn how to walk really quickly. Probably were speaking full, coherent sentences before they even knew they were alive. They likely picked up things like writing (the physical act of moving the hand in this case), typing, tying their shoes, and other motor skills fairly quickly. In general, these natives likely seemed a lot more developed in almost everything than kids their age. This is an excellent placement.

Developed social intelligence at a young age. These kids are incredible at socializing. They likely picked up conversational skills from the adults around them. They learned how to keep a conversation going way before everyone else. Probably skipped that awkward phase many experience as teenagers because of how natural conversations come to them. A lot of people are impressed by their abilities to be so engaging at such a young age.

Retrograde: May have been in a school that couldn't fully accommodate their intelligence needs. They could've spent a lot of time in classes that were too easy for them. May have also been under/overestimated in terms of their skills, which could've led them to some difficult situations. Could also manifest as impatience with others for lacking certain abilities, but this typically goes away with age. Could've been called annoying or looked down upon from their peers, simply because they attracted jealousy.

Sooner 18876 in Cancer/4th house/4º, 16º, 28º:

Developed emotional intelligence at a young age. Similar to Aries/1st house, these natives were likely very emotional children, and therefore were almost forced to observe their emotions. They likely had to develop coping mechanisms and just understand their emotions a lot sooner than their peers. May have found the exact things they need to deal with their emotions. This can be good obviously, but it can also be intense.

Developed intuition and empathy at a young age. This is common among all of the water placements. This reminds me of a kid who had gut feelings about things before they actually ended up happening and weren't believed... Then they'd happen and it would just be brushed off. This especially applies to interpersonal matters. Could've made adults and other children alike uncomfortable due to this. Very receptive. This is a good placement but this can be difficult, it can be a lot of weight on a child.

Developed a strong sense of nuturing at a young age. Similar to my previous point, but these kids had to learn how to nurture themselves and especially everyone else around them when they were very young. They observed and understood what makes people feel comforted. They probably have a toolbox of how to properly deal with every emotion for both themselves and others. They always knew exactly what to say to people during emotional moments and could've come off as very profound for their age as a result.

Retrograde: Their ability to fully feel their emotions may have angered a lot of people around them. They aren't too fearful in their expression and that could've been a lot for both themselves and others to deal with. I said this already but this is emphasized in Retrograde: Undermined intuitive abilities. Could've been mocked or suppressed for them. Also could've unintentionally taken on more emotional weight for others than they should've.

Sooner 18876 in Leo/5th house/5º, 17º, 29º:

Developed creative talents at a young age. Most children are very imaginative and therefore creative, but something about this placement in particular helps them stand out. These children were likely creatively talented beyond their years. Likely gained talents and made them serious way before their peers. They didn't see art as an activity but rather as a way to express themselves, which therefore helped them tap into it more. Incredible artistic abilities in whatever medium they choose, and likely have one they started at a young age and are still amazing at.

Developed self-confidence at a young age. These natives likely always felt comfortable expressing themselves fully, and if not, they definitely did when they were younger. This kind of relates to my last point but they always knew what their talents were and therefore knew their potential. They've seen themselves at their best and are confident in the fact that they can revive that part of them whenever needed. Instead of seeing this later in life though, they saw it as children, and therefore were able to become truly confident in themselves at a much younger age than their peers.

Developed "star quality" at a young age. I do think this specific placement can be one of many young fame indicators, especially if it is tightly conjunct a personal planet. That said, Demi Lovato and Nick Jonas, two celebrities who got famous at a young age, both have this placement (in Leo, I didn't check which house but the energy is still there). These natives combined their self-confidence with their creative talents and therefore were able to project themselves with such amazing creativity that it made them incredible for their age. It didn't take long for them to come off as professionals in whatever creative medium they chose, making them hard to ignore. Very talented.

Retrograde: Could've had a hard time practicing their creative talents whether that was due to being suppressed by external factors (money, social pressure, etc) or internal things. May have had talent but not been completely comfortable sharing it. They could've been incredibly underestimated and that was the main thing that gave them their confidence.. they knew their potential but others may not have, or may have tried to put them down. Many challenges with getting in the spotlight in general.

Sooner 18876 in Virgo/6th house/6º, 18º:

Developed practicality at a young age. This isn't exclusive to one area of life. These natives know the best ways to succeed at just about everything but especially day-to-day matters. They learned exactly how each step of a task can connect to one another, which ones can be cut out or modified to be more efficient, and whatever needs to be added. They had an impressive ability to get things done with precision and were likely much more detail-oriented than other children their age.

Developed discipline at a young age. These natives know exactly what needs to be done in order to succeed at anything and are willing to do it. They observed and understood the processes of everything. They knew that success wasn't just cut and dry, but rather, a combination of difficulty and flow. They could've come off as very mature as a result of this. As children, they were very committed to seeing the results they want and will do just about anything to get there--a tendency that helped them blossom in adulthood.

Developed a desire to help others at a young age. Because of how quickly these children understood what needed to be done to achieve anything, they were able to apply that knowledge to assist others. They likely enjoyed helping their peers out with things. If not, they definitely knew how, and were willing to assist when absolutely needed. They may have also seen or felt what it's like to lack (interpret this however you'd like), and they may have been more willing than others to help people tackle that feeling. Very kindhearted and intelligent children.

Retrograde: Practicality may have taken a lot of trial and error to obtain. May have also been mislead about it as well, being told that their way of doing things was incorrect. Their discipline could've been underestimated, and they could've been told that they didn't need to worry about certain things at that point. They also may have not had a lot of people to help, or were excluded from opportunities simply due to their age. Overall their skillset may have not been too useful as a child and didn't end up helping them too much until they got older.

Sooner 18876 in Libra/7th house/7°, 19°:

Developed social skills at a young age. These natives were practically born with the ability to make anyone feel comfortable around them. They could’ve been popular when they were younger as well. Definitely observed how other socialize and what works/what doesn’t.

Understood the importance of relationships at a young age. These natives likely found valuable relationships at a young age and therefore realized how important they are. They could’ve been surrounded by good examples of relationships, whether this was caregivers or friends. They know exactly what the signs of a bad or good relationship are. Also may maintain friendships from childhood.

Developed a sense of justice at a young age. They observed how people in their lives got justice and formed their perception around that. They were likely very considerate to others and learned the importance of hearing both sides of a story before forming an opinion. This could’ve impressed a lot of adults in their lives, very intelligent children. Also could’ve had an interest in law at young age.

Retrograde: May have felt overwhelmed at times with their social knowledge. Could come out as extreme people pleasing. Their understanding of relationships may remain exclusively from the examples in childhood. Their sense of justice may have been forcibly suppressed; may have been told to ‘stop making a big deal’ out of things.

Sooner 18876 in Scorpio/8th house/8°, 20°:

Developed an understanding of the deeper parts of life at a young age. These natives may have been exposed to death, transformations, and possibly the Occult (these are just some of the things) at a young age, and were required to ‘get used to’ them. Very strong in dealing with areas of life no child should have to deal with.

Developed an understanding of debt at a young age. These natives may have had caregivers in their lives who were in debt, and they just had to watch it play out. They had to observe and learn how debt is dealt with as literal children. Not always financial debt though, these natives quickly understood the rules of Karma and consequences at a young age. They may have seen people in their lives who didn’t get what they deserved (for better and for worse). Possibly vengeful as children, but moreso from a logical standpoint.

Developed an understanding of death and surrender at a young age. Similar to my last point. They likely had to watch things get ripped out of the hands of people around them, and how they get them back or rebuild from that point, without even knowing what it means. Painful, but useful later on. These children may have a lot taken from themselves and others around them, therefore almost having to make peace with the fact that this kind of thing exists. May have detached value from objects, people, places, etc for no reason, simply due to their perceived chance of having to surrender them later on. Hugs for you all 🫂

Retrograde: Learning about the darker parts of life through many experiences, may not have understood how to apply their prior knowledge to work through these moments until later on. May have felt hopelessness toward the Universe after seeing and/or going through so much suffering. May have had things stolen from them frequently, forced surrender. Huge fear of Karma because they understand it so well. Also, sharing when they didn’t want to.

Sooner 18876 in Sagittarius/9th house/9°, 21°:

Developed a need to broaden horizons at a young age. These natives likely felt very limited whenever they had to stay in one place, and craved to be exposed to other perspectives way before anyone else. They were curious like other children their age, but about bigger things like philosophies, morality, etc. The knowledge they deeply wanted to seek out was close to impossible to find in their hometown or by staying in one place in general--maybe it was about international affairs, or simply things that take a lot of time and dedication to discover/understand.

Developed wisdom at a young age. This can manifest in many ways. These natives had a good amount of understanding surrounding certain areas, and for this reason, were likely a lot more optimistic than other children their age. The fact that they didn't find much value in the mundane of daily lives forced them to find something to latch onto to keep their hope. They probably had some sort of experience mentoring their peers, whether it was in school or anything. Very optimistic, lots of faith in luck and the Universe in general. When most children their age may've either not cared or not had the faith, they kept theirs.

Developed a strong need for their knowledge to be taken seriously at a young age. This kind of combines what I've already said. They likely knew exactly what they wanted to do after high school or in adulthood. May have picked out their college major or whatever way to expand their knowledge later on before they even fully understood what it meant. They always had a desire to be seen as a mentor, to be seen as someone with a lot of wisdom, especially at a young age. They may have wanted to publish their beliefs somehow. They saw how their wisdom and optimism affected their peers, and therefore wanted to help others later on as well. They wanted to go far and then help others do the same. Not an easy placement but incredibly spiritually intelligent.

Retrograde: May have had little to no opportunities to travel, and may have had this desire forcefully suppressed because of their environment. Definitely have been told “Don’t worry about that yet, wait until you’re older”… Developed wisdom and optimism but at a cost. May have been wavering and/or developed solely as a result of bad experiences. They may not have much faith or it may take them longer to accumulate it. Similar to what I’ve already said but they may have been mocked for their ideas. People may have just not been able to hear them or purposely ignored them. Not to mention that school might’ve been a challenge for them as well.

Sooner 18876 in Capricorn/10th house/10°, 22°:

Developed a reputation at a young age. These natives may have been popular as children as well, and for that reason, had a lot of peers watching them and building beliefs from that point on. Usually when direct, this is a good reputation. They may have a good amount of childhood friends who still support them to this day. How they were seen as a child may follow them into adulthood, as well. This can be a fame indicator or even a nepo baby one as well. They also understood exactly what they need to maintain their reputation or to change it. Very intelligent in terms of the public eye, they handle being in high positions very well since they learned how as a child.

Developed a good relationship with authority at a young age. These children were likely hardworking and trustworthy. They were reliable and rarely disappointed others, especially authority figures. They understood rules and the benefits of following them. They frequently followed through with their promises, completed their duties, and were happy doing so. For this reason, they may have stuck out to authority figures, and therefore gained their trust very quick. They took things very seriously and were set on keeping that as their reputation.

Developed a vision for their adulthood at a young age. This is mostly in relation to their career, they may've made a career decision as a child and started working towards it. Took the question of, "What do you want to be when you grow up?", very seriously and had their answer set. Likely very skilled in whatever career they choose as well, considering how long they've worked towards it. As children, they may have taken a lot of initiative to becoming the perfect fit for their career, whether that was through learning or whatever. They were very stern on their visions, and rightfully so. This placement can also indicate getting high position in a career very quickly.

Retrograde: May have a reputation that isn’t fully clear. Target of rumors. May have had to face lots of rejection to learn how to avoid it, and may even go to extensive lengths. May have authority figures in their lives who they had to prove themselves to. Their reliability may have been a facade for their early life as well. The career they chose may not have accepted them at first, too. Maybe they learned the wrong things or took the wrong shots in general, their knowledge from when they were younger not helping much. May have had a little to work harder for just about everything but especially career matters.

Sooner 18876 in Aquarius/11th house/11°, 23°:

Developed innovation at a young age. These natives likely had big ideas for certain things as children, and were always thinking about how something could be better. This could apply to any area of their life. They were very much forward thinkers as children and had a vision for something. Because of their frequent desire to move onto something new, they may have had unique ideas that either intrigued or confused people around them. They may have come off as incredibly intelligent to their peers considering how out-of-the-box their ideas were. They observed what happened when things around them stayed the same and how that made or broke said things. They could've gotten ahead of themselves due to how many ideas they had, and how desparate they were to make them happen.

Understood the collective at a young age. These children may have felt called to help their community and other groups they cared about before they even understood why. Their vision may have had them fight for people to get what they need. Because they know exactly what needs to improve for both themselves and others (and society in general), they fought for it. Their commitment to their vision may have come off as a bit odd or even selfish but it was truly from a good place. They had an idea that they wanted to achieve and likely did whatever they could to align the people around them with it. This definitely caught the attention of the people around them, especially if they managed to achieve whatever they intended.

Developed hopes and dreams at a young age. Considering that these natives are such young visionaries, they knew exactly what they want and how and when. They may still be working towards something they’ve wanted to achieve as a child. Their aspirations are very much molded from the things they wanted early on, and usually don’t change. Because they’re incredibly aware of this, making their dreams come true is something that might come easier to them than most.

Retrograde: Their innovative nature may have not been taken seriously, or they may not have had the opportunity to go through with it until they were older. May have felt suppressed and not cared for as a result. Their peers may have suspected that their relationship was for an ulterior motive. Not to mention that their unique nature may have been what isolated them from their peers as well. Their desire to change may have annoyed people. Had ideas that could’ve been too difficult for most to understand. May have also been discouraged from going through with their hopes and dreams, or had to wait a bit. Like Capricorn/10th house, what they did in their youth may not have helped them later on.

Sooner 18876 in Pisces/12th house/12°, 24°:

Understood the value of introspection at a young age. These children likely engaged in introspection very frequently (which may lessen as they age), and therefore possibly spent a lot of time alone. They were very interested in discovering the parts of themselves and reading their personality before most people their age. Their introspective nature definitely helped them later on, as they were able to use what they learned to continue to understand themselves. As children, these natives may have come off as hermits. Definitely a lot of weight for a child but they don’t seem to mind much.

Developed subconscious patterns at a young age. Their subconscious mind can be heavily influenced by their childhood, moreso than others. This can be good if this is in direct. Almost every moment of growing up shaped them into who they are in their head, as well. Another interesting part of this is dreams. A lot of these natives are prone to recurring dreams/nightmares (usually retrograde): whether it’s the dream itself or the themes or the people, their minds picked them up at a young age and kept them ever since. They may have also analyzed their dreams at a young age.

In the 12th: This placement may have had trouble accessing the qualities of whichever sign it is in especially at a young age. If this is direct, it usually is solved around the teenage years, and the traits can be embodied more. If retrograde, these traits may have genuinely never been accessible, or even seemed like they made things worse. This is not an easy placement at all I fear..

Retrograde: They may have craved more alone time than they could get. May have dug a little too deep into themselves, which could’ve caused a lot of fear and shame at such a young age. As I mentioned, when this is retrograde, recurring nightmares that began in childhood are very common. Nightmare themes from childhood will likely never go away. The bad experiences may have made their subconcious mind a hellhole and they may not have realized. Bad experiences shaped their mind more than others (with or without this placement). Strong indicator of mental illness and/or addiction at a young age, as well.

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lenreli · 2 days ago

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i still feel your touch in my dream [dreamling]

[AO3]

M, 8.8k. Asking your best friend to be your fake boyfriend when you're straight is a foolproof plan. Or so Dream thinks.

“You’re―what,” Hob says, confused as he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Can you repeat that?” Well, maybe confused doesn’t cover it. Flummoxed, maybe. Bewildered. Definitely bewildered.

“I want you to be my plus-one to the wedding,” Hob nods, getting that part easily. “And since you’re one of few people I trust, and as my best friend, we should pretend to be together. To piss off Desire,” he says slowly. Hob’s brows raise.

Then he sighs, “I get the plus-one, I’m for the pissing off your sibling with―I’m just. You’re straight,” Hob says, hand chopping down between them. “Dream, you’re―did you forget that? Suddenly?” Hob’s voice gets very high-pitched at the end, making Dream quash a smile.

“I do know, yes,” he says with a nod, “but it has been said that sexuality is fluid, and I’m quite frankly annoyed at Desire disparaging me for being the token straight,” he puts in air-quotes, “whenever I meet up with my siblings.”

Hob opens his mouth, then shuts it, looking contemplative, “oh yeah, I could see that getting nasty,” Hob mutters under his breath. And it definitely has, Desire constantly poking and prodding him until there’s violence. Or he walks off. “And the wedding is―the weekend? At some fancy hotel or something, right?” Dream nods. Hob scratches an eyebrow with a nail, then sighs deeply. “Better be good food there.”

Dream finally smiles, overjoyed even as Hbo stares into the distance intently, probably working out his work and whatnot. “Thank you very much, Hob,” he says, rocking on the heels of his feet. “Now, about your suit―”

Hob groans and looks to the ceiling, “I have savings! I can afford a new one! Not like, fifty-thousand suits like you have somewhere, but fancy enough,” Hob waves him off.

“A taxi? Couldn’t afford a limo?” Hob asks once he’s inside said taxi, Dream giving him a look as he hangs up the garment bag on the handle inside, Hob’s own suitcase stowed in the back, along with his. “Couldn’t resist,” Hob says once he meets his eye, grinning. Dream crosses his arms as the taxi starts to move.

“Maybe if you showed me your suit I would’ve gotten a limo,” he retorts dryly. Dream stares intently at the black garment bag, hoping that unknown x-ray powers would appear. “If it’s some sort of monstrosity, for my sister’s wed―”

“It’s not! And it matches yours! There’s black,” Hob defends with a shrug, and Dream huffs, placated.

Hob gets out his phone, meanwhile Dream gets out a book, happy to spend time with each other in silence. At least, until―

“Are you really sure you wanna do this?” Hob asks, once again. Dream’s eyes go to the ceiling, annoyed with Hob’s constant pestering about this. “I just don’t want you freaking out!” Hob says. “We’re gonna have to kiss! And―well, kissing, mainly.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a sigh. Hob gives him a skeptical glance. “Even with not liking it, I know how to act,” he reminds Hob, and there’s a split-second of an emotion he can’t recognise on the other’s face, which gives him a spike of irritation, not knowing what it means, or why Hob hid it so quickly.

“That’s true,” Hob sighs, hunching on himself as he scratches an eyebrow with a thumb. “I just hope you’ve mentally prepared yourself for the kissing and how touchy-feely I’m going to be.”

“It’s more tiring work to deal with a whole wedding than that,” he says, and he’s mainly used to Hob in his space, legs brushing or Hob picking grass out of his hair, the other’s touches always pleasant. And never draining, like dealing with a loud wedding for example. “I hope you’ve prepared not to fall in love with me by the end of it, at least,” he says flippantly, not serious in the slightest.

Hob slides down the seat and looks out the tiny strip of the window not covered by his garment bag, “don’t worry, I won’t be.”

Dream, inexplicably, is cut deep by it.

The White Lotus is on the beach, the weather grey and dreary. Despair, like him, probably favours it, especially for her wedding. And he’s pretty sure they’re not going to go outside much, the schedule only allowing a dinner tonight, which they have to be dressed up for, then the wedding the day after.

Even with the fake-boyfriend with Hob being there, he’s at least happy with the other man being there, always finding comfort with him. The shower cuts off and Dream blinks, stretched out on their one bed. His suit, all black, is itchy. Or maybe it’s because of some other reason as he waits, anxiety creeping slowly as he thinks of seeing his siblings, the dining room full of people which they passed on the way to their room―

The bathroom door opens, and Dream sits up, breathless from the sudden movement as he scrutinises Hob’s suit. Pinstriped trousers and jacket, white shirt and then a blue tie. Though, the thing that catches his eye more is the eyeliner, making the other’s brown eyes even more intense. “Acceptable,” he says, swallowing as Hob smiles. “Eyeliner?” He asks.

Hob shrugs and sits next to him, warmth pressing into his side, “we are together, so we should match,” Hob says with a smile.

“Good thinking,” he nods. “Thank you for coming,” he breathes, anxiety dwindling as Hob leans into him.

“Of course,” Hob says quietly, then eventually an ah, and Dream looks over as Hob gets something from an inside pocket of his jacket. “Got these for you, since you probably lost yours under all the black in your suitcase,” he says with a smile.

Earplugs, the background-noise cancelling kind that he probably left at home, in the bag he usually carries. “Or the kind I accidentally left at home,” he replies with a huff, and Hob gives him an even brighter smile as he takes the earplugs, putting them in his trouser pocket.

“Wait, how many times?” Hob asks on their way to the dining room.

“This is her sixth marriage,” he explains. “Desire keeps making jokes about Despair―well,” he shrugs, “there’s a betting pool between my other siblings as to how long her current soon-to-be-wife will live,” he says quietly, Hob’s eyebrows raising higher.

Hob lets out a quiet whistle, face baffled, “and? What did you bet on?”

Dream sniffs, jaw setting, “of course, I’d never stoop so low,” he says as they stop outside the dining room. Hob blinks, clearly not buying it, “a year, at least,” he whispers between them.

“Wow,” Hob says, countenance showing nothing of what he thinks as he glances at the dining room. “Ready, partner?” Hob asks, an arm going around his waist, and Dream swallows at the warmth radiating from the other man.

Dream sighs, then nods, walking past tables of people until they reach the table closest to where the brides are ― the family table, with his siblings, his and Hob’s names emblazoned on cards as they sit down.

“Gadling? What is Gadling doing here?” Desire says across from them, tone judgemental as they stare at Hob, and Dream scowls, Hob’s hand still on his back as Hob smiles pleasantly. “Well?” They demand, glittery red eyeshadow sparkling in the light, matching their lips.

“I’m his partner,” Hob says simply, and the table stops, everyone else’s eyes on swiveling to them. He can feel it, even as Hob’s other hand caresses his jaw, turning him to look at Hob, brown eyes kind―

There’s gasps, but everything else seems to fall away, the kiss chaste―but luxurious, hands scratching through his hair as Hob pulls him closer. Hob’s tongue slowly presses into his mouth, teeth biting into his lips and he shudders, can only focus on the way that Hob tastes of chocolate, of the stubble scratching hard-soft against him, insides tingling and light-headed as he holds onto the other’s thighs.

The kiss ends with another press of lips, and Dream hears himself make a small sound in protest, wanting more.

… Wanting more? Dream blinks, looking over to see Desire gaping―which he also feels like doing, if it didn’t feel like―

His atoms were being rewritten, can barely hear everything else over too much and not enough. Hob’s satisfied? He can only hear because of putting his head on the other’s shoulder, feeling him speak more than hearing it, and Hob’s hand on his neck, softly stroking the skin.

Dream’s unwilling to let go, sounds slowly filtering back to him in a cacophony of noise, which makes him pull away, sitting back in his seat as he takes out the earplugs Hob got him, putting them in and then sighing as he only hears the table, Hob talking with Death.

Hob’s hand is still near him, can feel the heat of it on the back of his chair, pressing into him, thumb rubbing up and down his shoulder blade and Dream’s lips tingle. Even the joy at seeing Desire still gaping is muted under the way he would rather be kissing Hob again.

“You good?” Hob asks, snapping Dream of of his daze between courses and speeches with Hob’s other hand coming up to his cheek, can feel a thumb trace his cheekbone as Hob smiles, brows showing worry. “Not too much?”

“No,” he manages, and Hob slides his chair closer, legs brushing and Dream almost resists the way he wants to nuzzle into Hob’s hand ― until he does, and he can hear Hob’s small chuckle, bright and making him relax even more into it.

“Good,” Hob whispers, brown eyes soft and fond, affection clear to see and Dream’s throat closes up at it. Hob sighs and presses their foreheads together, and Dream’s lips tingle at their breaths, at the odd feeling of wanting Hob to kiss him again. Can feel it building up, the yearning for it.

A small, miniscule part of him still thinks it was a fluke, that he’s―

“You don’t mind?” Hob asks, lips brushing, and Dream’s heart jumps into his throat.

“No,” he says after a breath, not wanting to be too eager, even though he is.

The kiss is soft, indulgent and chaste, and Dream melts into it, remembering he has hands as he holds onto the other’s waist with one, the other petting at the soft-rough of Hob’s beard. It deepens and Dream swallows down a shiver, feeling like the air in the room is rapidly disappearing with how all-consuming it is.

There’s vague sounds of disgust, but Dream doesn’t register it, can only press into Hob more as a thumb touches his bottom lip, the rough drag of it he can feel down to his toes―

And suddenly, it ends and Dream takes a deep breath, blinking as he looks at the waiters, bringing them another course of dinner, leaving him achingly bereft of Hob.

Not a fluke, he thinks distantly. Dream wants to―for Hob to touch him more, searing hands and soft lips, wants more than just the arm on the back of his chair, Hob easily going back to eating and talking, and not at all like he’s changed everything Dream thought he knew about himself.

Dream wakes up the next morning, feeling like yesterday was a fever dream.

Or that may be because of Hob, who runs searing hot. And he’s holding onto, forehead pressed against the other’s back, sheets bunched down to his lower half as he touches Hob’s waist, skin soft. And hot. And, even just like this, Dream thinks of kissing the back in front of him, of waking Hob up with them, who’d smile and―

Gently, he slips out of the bed and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door.

Taking a deep breath, he sits on the cold tiles and rubs his face. So he may not be as straight as he thought, however it’s still terrifying. Especially with Hob, who’s―his best friend!

Getting up, he moves to the basin, noticing his heart beating quickly. And. Fuck. Why is he hard?! Muffling a groan, he washes his face with cold water.

Maybe a cold shower would be more effective.

“I have an idea,” Hob says, looking away from him as a hand tugs his ear, and Dream sits on the bed. “But I just, it’s silly―”

Dream blinks, considering. Hob knows him, and he trusts Hob. With far more then he’s even beginning to realise. “Okay.”

Hob’s head whips around, eyes wide, “you didn’t even hear my―” Hob wheezes out, sitting closer to him. “It’s―” the other’s loss for words, red on his face makes Dream confused. Though the hand on his shoulder makes him less so. “Because,” Hob whispers, and Dream swallows a sound as he’s gently pushed onto the bed, nails scratching up and down his throat―with Hob’s breath on the other side.

Suddenly the cold shower doesn’t seem like enough as Hob bites into his neck, and he shivers, staring unseeingly at the ceiling as Hob licks and nibbles at his throat. The other’s stubble is pleasant, makes him arch up into it as Hob sucks at his skin. Gasping, he holds onto Hob’s shoulder, body tingling as a final lick gets placed over the stinging marks.

“Not too much?” Hob asks, voice rough and eyes dark as they stare down at him, fingers still lightly caressing his neck.

Heart racing, Dream gulps down a―whine, pathetic and needy as he shakes his head. Can feel the sting of it, the blood rushing towards the marks, towards his face. Doesn’t want to speak, with only more and yes on his mind. Especially if it involves Hob’s gaze so heavy, almost palpable on him.

Hob licks his lips and Dream can only watch, transfixed as Hob gives him a once-over―and he’s glad that his black shirt and pants are loose enough to hide the start of an erection.

“I’ll―I need to get ready,” Hob says with a bright smile, walking off to the bathroom in the next breath. Dream inhales deeply, closing his eyes as a hand comes up to cover the bruises, heart beating out of his chest as he wonders if he’ll even survive the day.

Dream’s focus throughout the day is shot, to put it mildly. Even as he stands with his siblings as the vows are made and papers are signed, the bright red mark on his neck aches and itches, showing close to his collar, his suit out for another day. Desire gaped at the sight of it, while Hob just smiled and kissed his cheek, the hand on his waist leaving as Hob sits down in the aisle, pinstriped suit on.

After ― so many pictures, he’s happy to sit down next to Hob, groaning as he finally gets a chance to rest his legs. And putting his head onto Hob’s shoulder, sighing in relief as Hob laughs and pats his hair.

“All done?” Hob asks as he’s pulled closer, the pleasant warmth of the other man making him relax even more, uncaring of the chaos around them of people talking and congratulations to the newly-wedded couple.

“Had to stop Delirium from going into the ocean, at least until after lunch,” he mumbles. “And Desire kept bringing attention to―” my hickey, he doesn’t say, can feel his face heating just thinking that.

“Poor baby,” Hob coos, kissing his hair softly―and there’s only a skipped beat of Dream’ heart as Hob guides his face up with a hand, more pecks against his forehead, down to nose. The soft, chaste kiss on his lips makes his insides flutter.

Groaning, Dream hides his face back under Hob’s head, putting his arms around warm shoulders as he tries to not let his brain focus on the entirely new way he appreciates Hob in his suit, the hot rush of seeing him in it once they got dressed in the morning.

The rest of the day seems to fly by ― the time creeping closer to them leaving. To Hob no longer having a constant arm on the back of his chair, or around his waist.

A press of lips to his hair, a kiss that feels like all the air is sucked out of the dining room, indulgent and makes him light-headed. He can only follow uselessly as the kiss ends, and he shivers as fingers leave his hair.

Dream is in a daze, has never been punch-drunk off of kisses as he doesn’t remember eating his lunch, or dessert. Can only think of the tingling of his lips, the pleasant scratch of Hob’s beard and gentle hands. Though, there was that moment of embarrassment, clarity as Hob put a spoonful of dessert in front of him, citrus-y in comparison to the chocolate mousse that he got.

Lunch done, people leave or split off into groups, going to the beach or nearby bars. Hob and Dream end up sitting outside, people watching. “Aren’t you going to go in?” Dream asks eventually, though he would miss the warmth around his waist.

“I’m good,” Hob says with a shrug, using his free hand to point out a group of people .”Polycule or messy divorce?” He asks.

Dream stares at the group, two of the people talking intensely, the others watching on in worry. “One or two of them want out of the polycule, obviously,” Dream replies dryly.

“Ah,” Hob says, gently nudging him to look at a waiter, strained customer-service-smile in place as he’s talked to by a particularly passionate customer. “He’s totally gonna get a special for this one.”

“Disgusting, but likely true,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, making Hob laugh and lean into him. Dream’s heart races. And something springs to mind―that Hob’s only been the one giving kisses. Pulse in his throat, he presses his lips to Hob’s, can still feel the laughter as Hob stills, brown eyes shocked.

Running off instinct, he presses forward, putting his hands onto Hob’s cheek, stubble soft under his hands. Hob lets out a small sound and returns the kiss slowly, even as the arm around his waist moves, nails digging into his spine, and Dream swallows a gasp, brain full of static pleasure.

His pleasure only doubles as Hob’s free hand sits on his neck ― fingers pressing into the mark that was left, Dream can’t help the shudder, the overwhelming need to get even closer, wants to crawl into Hob’s lap as Hob’s lips move down, teeth scraping against his chin and down―

“Ugh, really? I just got my appetite back,” a voice says in disgust, making Dream overtly aware of Hob at the edge of his jaw ― and Desire in front of them, a metaphorical splash of cold water.

Hob breathes against his skin, which he can feel heating up at his sibling’s gaze, and Dream keeps his eyes somewhere on Desire’s red one-piece, bejewelled and bedazzled, skimpy and costing a small fortune, probably ― and Dream bites his tongue at the smile from Hob that he can feel before they part. “We weren’t doing anything,” Dream says eventually, voice rougher than it was before.

Desire rolls their eyes and breezes past, saying ― something. Which he doesn’t catch due to the redness of Hob’s lips as he watches Desire walk by, an eyebrow raised.

Usually, Dream would already be back into his hotel room by the time the sun sets ― but finds it hard to leave Hob’s side, the casual affection he experiences. And Hob doesn’t expect him to join in with a conversation as he talks with some of his sibling’s friends, a hand around his waist or on his shoulder as Hob talks about his job as a professor.

“Sorry,” Hob says bashfully after they’ve left, apparently going back home. “Should we get room service, or dinner here again?”

Dream blinks, can vaguely feel hunger underneath the pleasant haze of Hob’s attention. “I saw an Indian place on this road,” he offers, feeling pride as Hob brightens. “When we were in the taxi.”

“Brilliant!” Hob says enthusiastically, close―and Dream freezes at the sudden kiss, hands cradling his face.

He can feel Hob’s smile, his joy as he’s pulled closer, Hob’s body warm against him, and he relaxes slowly into it, grabbing onto Hob’s pinstriped jacket. And he thinks of Hob reacting like this outside of this hotel, heart in his throat as Hob ends the kiss with a lighter one.

“Let’s go!” Hob tugs him along, and Dream can only walk forward. “No offence to your sister, but her food choices were certainly choices,” Hob says under his breath.

Dream chuckles as they walk out of the hotel, “yes, her taste is quite… bland,” he grimaces. “Aside from desserts. She does love those,” he nods.

“I need some complex spice or I might just go insane,” Hob mutters, making Dream smile as he looks down the road, this time Dream tugging Hob into going across the road.

The next morning, Dream wakes up in Hob’s arms, can feel a forehead against the back of his hair. And they’re leaving―

Which means no more kisses, no more of the casual affection, or this, Hob’s body searing and wrapped around him, and Dream feels heavy.

Opening an eye, he sees they still have a few more hours before checkout.

So he ignores it, putting his hands on the arms around him, and even with all that he’s recently learned, he shuts his eyes and lets the time pass.

Hob’s leg between his ― the way Hob groans, arms wrapping tightly around him, and Dream swallows, worries that the other man’s waking up―but Hob just lets out a sigh. Hob’s head is now closer to his neck, can feel the breath on the back of it as Hob stretches behind him with a groan, their feet tangling.

And a hardness against his lower back, only briefly. Dream’s mouth dries, skin feeling too-warm and too-tight suddenly, not helped by Hob’s body. Body warm and somehow right, and Dream stops thinking before that sentence ends.

Hob and Dream live together, have been roommates for years, fitting into each other’s places easily. And coming back from the weekend, there’s an oddness, a wrench thrown into the works. Hob is more closed-off, not as affectionate―

And Dream can’t stop thinking about the weekend. It probably needs to be called The Weekend, capitalised. A moment between how they were before, and how they are after.

Before, he felt no weirdness, stepping into Hob’s room, seeing Hob at his desk, marking papers in a ratty pair of sweatpants and shirt. Wouldn’t even register the bed as he steps, not thinking of Hob’s warmth, thinking of breath against the back of his neck as they slept.

“Hob,” he says quietly, resisting the urge to fidget, still smelling of smoke and sweat from a club. A gay one.

Just to know that it’s not some Hob-shaped thing, these feelings―which, some of them are. Even with the kissing being good from these other men, the casual way he went about, almost detached and scientific, wanting to quantify it. This one’s beard didn’t scratch as nicely as Hob’s, that man’s eyes weren’t brown enough, this other man’s hands didn’t hold him as nicely as―Hob hums, still going through his work, and even with knowing that Hob won’t react terribly, he works through the tentative fear with a deep breath, stepping closer.

“I don’t think I’m straight,” he says, and that makes Hob stop his work. There’s heartbeats of silence, Dream’s heart racing at what he said, making it something real.

Hob puts his pen down, still not facing him. “Oh.”

Dream swallows, feeling a bit confident now that nothing’s happened with what he said, “I went to that club you go to sometimes. It was nice,” he offers. Of course, he doesn’t says that you may have ruined me for all other men before I even knew or something else that would ruin their friendship.

“I’m happy for you,” Hob’s tone is odd―indescribable, and Dream frowns, walking closer until he leans next to Hob. At this, Hob looks up to him and smiles, “really, I am,” he says, voice more matching to his words. “And thank you for telling me.”

Dream tilts his head, relaxing against the desk, “how did you realise?” He asks, hit with the knowledge that over their many years of friendship, he’s never learnt.

Hob shrugs, going back to his marking. “When I was teenager. It was like getting slapped over the head with it,” he says with a laugh. “One of those dramatic moments when you see―well, you know.”

He’s happy to note that Hob’s arm presses into his waist, the careless press of before, that Dream now appreciates in another way, “and figuring out your sexuality?”

“Well, that took a while. But honestly, it’s different for everyone,” Hob rests his head on his hand, pen tapping against his cheek, “no pressure from me for you to figure it out. Even just being not straight or queer, or feeling an affinity to any of the labels, or not. Whatever!”

Dream nods, sliding up onto the table, pulling up the papers as he does so. “How goes academia today?”

Hob groans, resting his head on the one he’s marking. “I’ve read through two AI essays. I wish they knew more!”

Dream wakes up, sheets tangled and blood rushing, reaching across his bed for―

A Hob from dreams, dark eyes staring down at him, and he groans, pulling the sheet over his head. His cock aches, leaking as he shuts his eyes, trying to keep the remnants of the wet dream in sight. The pressure of Hob’s hands trailing down his body, the long-healed bruise on his neck, more being bitten onto him.

He can’t remember the last time he got so worked up from a dream, not even during puberty.

There wasn’t even anything explicit, just the pressure, the sight of Hob on top of him. Fingers trailing down his body, down to his thighs, Hob’s lips following his hands. Dream shivers at the remembrance of it, overwhelmed with it.

Biting his lip, he takes a deep breath as he grabs his aching cock, sparks of pleasure making him gasp as he imagines it’s Hob stroking him.

Hob’s hands, searing hot, pleasantly rough and he whimpers, dick leaking around his fingers incessantly. Hob staring up at him, eyes dark and black, the gaze tangible and fuck, he wants it, pulse jumping under the imagined weight of it.

Biting his cheek, he lets out a small cry as the orgasm rushes up to meet him, come coating his hand, and the sheet on top.

In the post-orgasmic haze, he can only manage a small amount of shame, thinking of Hob as he did.

Dream stares down at the text message, dread already making its home in his stomach.

Desire

that boyfriend of yrs should come ;) unless…

Sure, Hob and he are still ― that’s not the problem. He doesn’t even know how to articulate it, considering Hob’s either hot-or-cold with him, entirely randomly. And today Hob’s been distant, smile not reaching his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he goes to the kitchen, where Hob’s making dinner. “Hob?” The other man hums, focusing on a pot of pasta. “You should meet up with my siblings and I this Saturday,” he says lightly.

“As your partner?” Hob asks, voice flat and Dream winces, his silence telling. “Think I’ll be busy that day,” Hob says, turning to give him one of those smiles that doesn’t show in his eyes.

Walking closer, he watches as Hob puts things into another pan, “are you sure?”

“Can’t get out of it. Sorry,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all as he shrugs. Or truthful, either, which feels like the worst part. He has heard from many of Hob’s exes about his lying, among many other flaws, but he’s always willing to tell the truth to Dream. At least, until this.

“Okay,” he frowns, not wanting to call it out. Hob gets out some small spoons and tries the pasta sauce, humming in consideration. And suddenly Hob is staring at him, a happy smile ― which does brighten up his eyes ― on his face, and Dream blinks at the spoon in front of his face, pasta sauce on it.

“Spicy enough for you, or more?”

There was sound coming outside of the apartment, but Dream waves it off as Hob, putting on his sleepclothes after a shower. Opening the bathroom door, he absently dries his hair, then freezes.

In front of him ― well, not him ― but in front of Hob’s door, is Hob, every ounce of attention on the man he’s crowding against the door, sharing small laughs and words. The man is is tall and dark-skinned, thin dark locs in Hob’s hands as they kiss.

The man glances over at him, and Dream jolts into awareness, somehow freezing up even more as he gulps, insides twisting in―

Jealousy, the way the man starts to speak up more ― then a hand covering his mouth as Hob shushes him, eyes sparkling even from the side as he finally opens his bedroom door, more hushed talking as the door shuts, Hob not even aware of him.

Wide-eyed, he quietly goes to his own room, noting that he has felt this before with Hob’s exes, or hookups. Which he wasn’t aware of, the jealousy, until it flooded through him, always thought of it of―he wasn’t sure, something about Hob’s attention, about stealing Hob away from him, he’d thought once. And the envy of it, can think of a yawning void of Hob’s casual, flirting touches with others.

Putting on his headphones, Dream puts on his music and tries not think of how he wants to be the focus of that attention again, those heady kisses and―

More, even, he thinks, can feel his face heating as he gets out a book to read. Though he ends up stuck on the first page, unable to retain more than the first word, can only think of wet dreams and the ache of wanting to be the one Hob is paying singular attention to.

Desire gives him a judgemental look, making him feel small in between the rest of their siblings. “Your boyfriend’s failed to show up again,” they say acridly, and Dream tries not to grimace. Considering the way Desire’s eyes light up, he’s failed.

The judgement is suffocating, and Dream considers running away. Or getting a seat outside this suddenly stifling restaurant.

Work thing. Can’t miss it, was Hob’s lie this time ― and ― he gets it, that they’re not in the actual relationship his sibling’s think it is. The relationship that he wishes it was, but it’s not like he’s going to say to Desire, who lorded it over him when his last relationships broke.

He can’t do that.

“Well?” They drawl, looking smugly satisfied as they twirl blond hair around their finger.

“He’s busy,” Dream says with heat, unwilling to give in to the pressure. Desire scoffs. Dream opens his mouth―

“Sibling, let it go,” Despair replies with a sigh, and Dream boggles, feeling as surprised as Desire looks. “I wish I was with my wife right now, but alas,” she continues with a pout.

Desire squint-glares at him, but does let it go, though they settle on a scowl and a huff. “Fine, but only for you, sister dear.”

Next to him on the left, Death groans, “now that that’s over with, can we order? I only have so much time―”

On his right, Delirium speaks up, “you always say that!”

“What happened to you?” Hob asks, and Dream freezes, gingerly stepping into the kitchen ― which he was hoping to sneak past, unable to account for Hob’s apparent radar. Hob gives him a once-over, and he resists the urge to curl up on the small stool, head pounding.

“Nothing,” he says, not wanting to talk about the weird tension between them. Or the excellent idea he had to get drunk enough to actually have a one-night stand. Which is more Hob’s thing, Dream at least preferring at a bit of emotional connection before doing that.

And so. Alcohol. And a particularly nice man, eyes more of a hazel than brown―”if you say so,” Hob says dryly, eyes on his throat. Ah. Hickies. He groans as he cups his throat, skin tingling as he flops onto the counter, the chill of it nice compared to the heat in his face. “Painkiller?”

Dream groans, nodding against the counter, “please,” he says, hearing Hob move around their tiny kitchen. “Aren’t you meant to be at work?” He asks, reasonably sure today is one of those days where Hob leaves. Which he was kind of hoping for, and didn’t get.

“The semester ends soon, and so I just decided to Zoom for those who really want to ― or need to do more,” Hob explains, and soon enough something cool is pressed against his temple, making him open his eyes, blankly staring at the glass of water against his forehead. Sitting straight, he downs the painkiller next to the glass, drinking most of the water before he puts it down. “Sorry to ruin your apparent sneaking,” Hob says, expression intensely focused on him, and Dream scowls.

“How did you know?” He asks, can feel the other’s dark eyes on his neck, on the marks put there. They didn’t even do anything ― just heavy petting, the other man citing the alcohol on his breath. Though there was a handjob, quick and yet a marvel, the feeling of another’s man’s dick in his hand―

Hob’s face becomes hard to understand, but only briefly before he smirks. “I have my ways,” Hob says. Dream gives him an unimpressed stare as he puts his head onto his arms on the counter, which also helps with the scrutiny he can still feel. “Your boots are very stompy,” Hob says, solemn.

Dream stares down at his black platforms in betrayal as he pouts into his arm. “They are,” he mutters, in the end deciding to let go of the betrayal. He can’t stay mad at them.

A bowl gets placed in front of him, and Dream stares in confusion at the cereal and milk in it. “You should eat,” Hob says as he puts a spoon in the bowl, pushing it into his arms. Dream blinks and can only agree. “My classes start in two hours, so wanna watch more of that show?”

Nodding, he takes the bowl, absently eating it as Severance gets put on.

Dream swallows the hurt as Hob’s hand, coming up to his shoulder ― stops and goes back to Hob’s side. They were so good, and suddenly, this again, the aborted touches, and he resists the urge to ask why?

Mainly because he’s not sure he’d like the answer. Hob gives him a smile before he leaves and Dream sighs, flopping down onto the sofa. Can only think of the way Hob continues to not touch him.

And that Weekend, where Hob was always touching him, and for all that he did appreciate it, he wants it even more now. Closing his eyes, he brings up the memory of it ― a hand on his shoulder, or on the small of his back. Fingers in his hair and a soft beard.

Putting his arms around himself, Dream grabs onto the echoes of them, desperately wanting it to be Hob.

He considers ― briefly ― of getting up, going to a club and trying to push himself in the easy skinship of that, but discards it, mind still spiraling on why won’t you touch me anymore, not even a pat on the shoulder―

His phone rings and he startles, pulled out of his head as he opens it, Death’s face on the Calling screen. Huffing, he accepts it. “Sister?” He greets in confusion.

“Desire set up another meeting, and this time didn’t say that Dream’s boyfriend should show up or else,” she mutters, and Dream’s heart drops, rubbing his face. Fuck. “So, you know. Just saying it here and not in our groupchat so Desire won’t be so, well.”

“They will be,” he says, suddenly a lot more tired. Especially with Hob’s constant lies, the lack of touching, Desire’s apparent need to see Hob as his partner― “thank you sister,” he replies shortly, hanging up as he grits his teeth.

Grabbing a red pillow next to him, he screams into it, at least transferring the screaming inside his brain to the outside.

Dream is ― between jobs, at the moment, unsure what to do next―

And there’s bashing on the door, which thankfully distracts him from looking at employment listings. Sighing, he opens it, then blinks at Matthew, with Hob hanging off his shoulder like a limpet. “He’s your problem now,” is Matthew says before Hob is shoved to him, and Dream freezes as Hob groans into his shoulder, the soft heat of Hob making his skin tingle as Matthew leaves.

Blinking, he shuts the door as Hob leans into him, and he scrunches his nose at the beer he can smell from the other man. Dream doesn’t want to take of a drunk Hob ― but also, Hob isn’t shifting away, so he pats the other’s shoulder and takes them to their kitchen. “Usually you’re better at this,” he comments as he gets out a glass of water, putting it into Hob’s free hand.

“Dr’m,” Hob slurs, staring at him with wide brown eyes ― and the hand leaves the glass to hold Dream’s cheek, and he stills, can feel his blood rush wildly up to the touch as he swallows. “‘Msorry,” Hob slurs, pressing into the where his ear meets his jaw.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he chokes out, confused as he soaks up the other’s body heat, the press of Hob against his side. Swallowing again, he picks up the glass and puts it up, Hob grabbing it. “Drink.”

Hob huffs, but drinks. Dream tries not to stare too obviously at the way Hob’s throat works, at the odd amount of stubble leading down to soft skin ― and Dream looks away hastily as the glass is put down on the counter. “Dream,” Hob says, sounding a bit more lucid. Though, hands do grab his cheeks and he can feel his skin heating under the touch as Hob turns his face until their eyes meet.

His mouth dries at the intensity of Hob’s eyes, brain no doubt working hard in between all the alcohol. “Hob,” he says, matching the other’s tone. “You’re drunk,” he says, unsure what pointing it out will accomplish.

Hob’s hands caress him, and he shivers under the callused fingers, not wanting to break the contact ― but also, he should, before something regrettable happens. Like Hob coming closer, and Dream can’t find it in him to break from the other’s gaze, “I want,” Hob whispers ― and a thumb grazes the edge of his lip―

Dream’s mind crashes as he pulls away Hob’s hands, who stares down at them in confusion as Dream takes a deep breath. “You’re drunk,” he repeats, more for himself as he wills his heart to not beat out of his chest. “Let’s,” he mumbles, leading Hob to his bedroom.

“Sometimes, I think,” Hob says, pressing him against the doorframe, and he sucks in a breath at hands going into his hair, pulling him to look at Hob again.

Hob’s expression is that inscrutable type again, and all Dream can think is I’m gay. Which feels like a very fucking inopportune time to think that, considering how, again, drunk, Hob is.

It doesn't stop him from thinking it again as Hob chest presses against his, fingers threading more through his hair deliciously, and Dream’s sure Hob can feel insanely fast his heart is beating, can feel his pulse hammering in his neck as it arches. “Dream,” Hob says, voice rough and low―

His name said like that becomes a reality check and he forces him away ― or pushes Hob into his room, the door shutting loudly. Dream presses his head against the door, cool against his heated skin as he takes calming breaths.

Drunk. He was drunk ― he’s drunk, Dream thinks to himself desperately, can still feel Hob’s touches, the searing heat down to his bones.

A finger presses into his mouth, rough and shiveringly familiar, arousal coursing through him at the simple touch. “My partner,” Hob says, other hand coming up to caress his cheek. “All mine, aren’t you?”

Dream whines, arching up into the solid body above him, the heat of him maddening. “Please, yes,” he keens, shuddering as Hob leans down to kiss him, slow and toe-curling deep, the press of it going into his bones. “Please,” he croaks.

“Dream, my Dream,” Hob whispers into him, sharp teeth and soft stubble making him gasp as they go down his jaw, down his throat ― with Hob’s hands trailing down his naked body. The teeth biting down his throat make him ache, wanting it all over as he scratches up Hob’s arms to scratch up his shoulder blades.

“Yours,” he breathes, senseless to anything that’s not Hob, that’s not the overwhelming bliss he feels, cock leaking under Hob’s dark stare.

Hob presses down on his lower half, hazy heat making him whimper as his hands go into Hob’s hair as more marks get placed on his throat, down to his collarbones. Fingers enter his mouth and he licks them, sucking them until Hob lets out a breathy moan. “I want you,” Hob whispers, a finger flat on his tongue as the other’s trace around his mouth, making his whine.

The fingers leave and Dream misses them already, mouth feeling empty as Hob rests his forehead against his cheek ― and he can only cry out as slick fingers touch his cock, stroking it gently. “Hob,” he keens, stars exploding behind his eyes as Hob strokes him to a hurtling orgasm―

“Hob!” He cries out, snapping to awareness sharply as he wakes up. Slapping a hand around his mouth, he groans at his sticky pants as his heart-rate calms down. Letting out another groan, he curls up and pulls a pillow close, hugging it tightly as he tries to linger in the wet dream.

Dream feels he��s going insane, just a bit. Which isn’t helped the meet-up with his siblings tomorrow, Desire texting him every day about his boyfriend―

And said ‘boyfriend’ being even more reserved than usual. With an added bonus of being angry, that Dream knows more from the way Hob slammed the door shut in the morning, then anything else.

Even Dream’s resurgence of wet dreams, filled with comforting and rough hands is only enough to keep him from―well, he doesn’t know, but at least the memories are enough to keep him somewhat sane as he comes to terms with the enormity of his feelings towards Hob. Mainly because there’s an absence of Hob’s smile and laughter directed towards him, or the inane things Hob would talk about.

Dream stares at Hob on the other sofa, nose in a book. At least Hob doesn’t seem as angry, though he can’t help the dread he feels at what he’s going to ask. Dread and exhaustion ― over all this.

“Hob?” He says, taking a deep breath as Hob hums, still reading his history book. “I’m meeting up with sibling’s tomorrow, and―”

“Can’t make it,” is all Hob replies with, voice short and final. Dream scowls, some of his exhaustion turning into irritation, prickling in his bones.

“But Desire has been―they’ve been, and having my partner there―”

Hob finally looks up, a scowl on his face, “but I’m not your partner. I’m―why not just ask any of the other men you’ve been fucking?!” Hob asks, tone acrid at the end, book fluttering as he gestures with his hand.

“Because they’re not you!”

The silence is absolute as Dream realises, belatedly, what he said in the moment. Hob’s brows furrow, anger leaving his face as Hob gives him a confused stare. Sighing deeply, Dream covers his face with his hands, too tired to take it back, and apparently wanting to bare his soul. Where it’ll likely be crushed, he’ll deal with those emotions in about a week or so.

Dream chuckles, and it sounds insane to his ears, “they’re not. I did ― be with other men, just to know, that I’m not,” he frowns, annoyed with the way his words come out in a jumble. Frowning, he considers his next words, “you ruined all those men for me. I kept searching for the way you held me, or the way you kissed, and in the end they never matched up because I wanted―I want. You,” he finishes quietly.

“Me?” Hob asks, the almost-amazement in it making him look up. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Why would I just say that?” He hisses. “I discovered I’m gay because I enjoyed kissing you so much, then discovered that I have feelings for you which I never realised because I thought I was str―”

Mercifully, his ramblings are cut-off. By Hob’s lips on his, hands framing his face and Dream lets out a sound of relief as he grabs onto the other’s shoulders. The kiss itself is chaste, but considering how sparsely Hob’s touched him, this is all he needs as they press against each other, Hob gently leading them over to the larger sofa.

“I have feelings for you too,” Hob says against him, brown eyes soft and affectionate.

Dream huffs and pulls away, grabbing Hob’s wrists tightly and tugs them down to the sofa. “I thought you said you wouldn’t fall in with me,” he states, confused.

Hob smiles and gives him a you’re an idiot look, “I’ve been in love with you for ages, long before that,” Hob says, tone much like his expression.

His lips feel bruised and bitten, but pulling away from Hob is ― unthinkable, unfathomable. And Hob is the same, hands on his waist and biting down his throat, skin tingling as he shivers, Hob biting over already-made marks.

“I missed this,” he whispers, patting the other’s beard. Though, some things are not that familiar, the way he sits on Hob’s lap, and he definitely would’ve missed this if he had it, the solid heat beneath him. “Not just the kissing, but you touching me. You stopped,” he breathes, can hear the whine of it as Hob kisses him, hands going under his shirt.

“I missed it too,” Hob replies quietly, nails digging into his waist and Dream shivers, pleasure zinging up his spine. “It was just easier not to ― otherwise I’d never let go,” Hob says into his skin, and Dream swallows, nails scratching up his sides, “I’d never stop.”

“Don’t stop,” he pleads, moving one of his hands to get under Hob’s shirt, feeling the hot skin ― and Dream keens, fingers stretching into the hair on Hob’s belly. He can feel Hob’s moan, can feel him pressing up as they share a spine-tingling kiss. Or maybe that’s the nails trailing up his spine, then back down. “Hob.”

The hand traces the edge of his pants until it reaches the front, making Dream’s dick throb, bringing awareness to how hard he is, “can I?” Hob asks, voice rough and eyes dark as they stare at him.

Dream spares a moment to think how he’ll survive this, when this already feels like so much, but saying no ― or peeling himself off Hob isn’t an option. “Yes,” he whispers, bracing himself mentally as Hob kisses him again, and he almost bites Hob’s tongue as the hand goes into his pants, fingers trailing up his cock. Dream lets out a startled sound, mind firing at the touch as fingers caress his balls, then make their way to his leaking tip.

His own furtive imaginings pale in comparison to the explorative way Hob strokes him, wiping his head clean of thoughts as he holds onto Hob’s chest, rough hair under his hand as he gasps into the other’s mouth. Grinding down, he can feel Hob’s cock, hard and ― untouched, which Dream wants to remedy, remembering his other hand as he undoes Hob’s pants somehow, running on instinct and need as he slides his hand to hold Hob’s cock, which is worth it alone for the way Hob’s hand jerks, the way he moans.

Somehow, they separate enough for Hob’s shirt to disappear, showing heated skin and hair as they stroke each other into a frenzy, and Dream’s teeth ache. Hob’s so warm and responsive, a delightful stream of moaning his name, and Dream keeps staring at Hob’s throat, at his collarbones, the sweat gathering on them from their rutting―

So he bites down near Hob’s adam’s apple, tasting the tangy sweat, can feel Hob shudder, can feel the startled whine ― and the sudden wetness coating his hand as he sucks a mark into Hob’s throat. “Dream,” Hob breathes, an arm pulling him closer, the hand on his cock pressing into him in ways that make him feel even more senseless, fucking into Hob desperately as his orgasm crashes into him.

He can feel Hob breathing into his hair as Dream rests his forehead against Hob’s collarbone, brain taking it’s time to be more than the orgasm he just had, can feel Hob stroking his softening cock and he shivers at the feeling, letting out a whimper.

Letting go of Hob’s cock, he looks down at the come covering it, and then wipes it onto Hob’s jeans. Hob yelps in offense ― then takes out his own hand, wiping it on Dream’s pants. “The nerve,” Hob mutters, and Dream smiles, though it disappears as Hob tenses, arms keeping him trapped against the other man. Blinking, he puts his arms around Hob’s shoulders, pulling up to look at the other’s wary face. Dream just kisses Hob, who goes oh, relaxing into it.

“Will you,” he frowns, the words sudden, brain still getting itself together. Though, it’s what he was planning to ask anyway, “willl you join me as my actual partner, tomorrow? Entirely optional, the thing tomorrow, I just―”

Hob’s brows, raised high as he talks ― rambles, again, that’s meant to be Hob’s quirk, though he did also pick up Hob’s quirk of thinking Shakespeare is overrated―until Hob cuts him off with a kiss, fingers stroking his hair. “Magically, I think tomorrow’s been cleared, and would love nothing more than to join my partner,” Hob says, eyes sparkling.

Walking on the sidewalk to where they’re meeting his siblings, Dream frowns, “we could always go back home,” he states, and he can feel Hob chuckle, the arm on his shoulders pulling him even closer to his partner.

“Tempting. But we should probably let the place air out first,” Hob points out reasonably, and Dream pouts. “And I want to pay for your lunch!”

“Hm,” he says, knowing the place they’re going to is very expensive, so Hob may change his tune once they’re inside. Speaking of, they walk in, his gaggle of siblings sitting at a large table in the centre. Death waves him over, and Hob squeezes him tighter, a kiss placed on the side of his head. Dream can feel his face heat up as they sit down. “Hello.”

“What’s he doing here?” Desire asks right off the bat, golden eyes narrowed at Hob.

“I was invited, wasn’t I?” Hob says, cheerful grin obvious in his voice as Dream picks up the menu, Hob’s chair squeaking closer to look at it with him. Dream looks over as Hob pales, noticing the lack of prices on it.

“Desire is paying today,” he points out quietly, “you can buy me dinner tomorrow,” he offers in compromise, and Hob takes a deep breath, their heads brushing.

Hob frowns, “fine,” he says, pouting and Dream smiles, oddly charmed that Hob’s so disgruntled by it.

Desire makes a disgusted sound, making Dream look at his sibling over the menu, “what exactly were you expecting, sibling?”

They cross their arms and sniff, “another no-show, of course. Or even terrible news,” they say with glee, like a break-up clear in their unsaid words.

“Wow,” Hob whispers next to him. “Don’t you have better things to do than be obsessed with me?” Hob asks, and many of his siblings crack up laughing as Desire sputters. He’s even chuckling as Hob tugs him into a kiss, soft and pleased, ending with their noses brushing.

“I’m not obsessed with the likes of you!” Desire hisses, face a bright red. “I’m not! Right, sister?” They say, facing Despair, who just shrugs. “There is ― I’m not!”

“Alright, enough of this,” Death says between laughter, her stern look quieting the laughs, with Desire grumbling to themself as they hide in the menu, “we should order!”

[Fin]

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #hob gadling #writing #not sfw #this was fun to write

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sugary-daydreams3 · 22 hours ago

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Grief trapped in blue sunglass lens [Gojo's funeral fanfiction]

Summary: Now that the students and Jujutsu associates healed their physical wounds, they have no choice but to face the elephant in the room. Satoru Gojo is gone and everyone deals with the void in their own way before the funeral begins.

Word count: 6.4k

Series: Lost chapters I wish Gege wrote about

A/N: Made this because me and many other people didn't get to see a Gojo funeral nor the character's feelings on him being gone. This is one of my biggest gripes with the ending of JJK. I had no problems with Gojo dying but I feel that how he was handled physically post Yujo fight left much to be desired.

So I decided to write about (mostly) everyone's coping with Gojo's death and a funeral service for him. Forgive me if the funeral may seem culturally inaccurate. Hopefully, no characters come across as too OOC, but some of these characters are hard to get right when they don't have much room to shine their personality in canon.

Glossy nails trail the white engraved letters and numbers above the matte black. She forgot to give back his credit card. The last time she used it was Hallo--

Hall--

October 31st.

October.

That fucking month with that fucking day. Like an alarm that keeps ringing and a clock that won’t move forward fused together.

The month of horror, trick or treating, and bloody exploding eyeballs. The month were kids face real horror, not those stupid dumb skeletons, werewolves, and vampires. The kind of horror that will make someone either sample death or have it as their final meal.

31st should have ended with her rocking the clothes she picked up eight hours before that fight. Gojo should have been eating endless candy and telling them “Job well done!” in that stupid annoying comforting voice of his. Not boxed away and expecting his students to come out on top in the chilly wild.

She didn’t even see him die. She didn’t get to say her final words to him that just would have amounted to...

“If you die your card is mine forever. So die, okay?”

She couldn’t even say her fucked up, dark, cruel joke that was a mask of “Please don’t fucking die”.

Why couldn’t I move?

Why wasn’t I awake?

Why wasn’t I present?

Who wants to hear recollections of what happened between October 31st and December 24th? She wanted to help out with the Culling Games. She wanted to see the great battle of Sukuna vs. Gojo. She wanted to finally meet this Yuta kid and see everyone’s reaction to him coming back. She wanted to save Megumi when Yuji couldn’t. Picking up the pieces of Yuji’s mistakes. Being that deciding factor that could have prevented so much bullshit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Why wasn’t I here?

Her only eye stings, blinking two tears to fall on the muted black card. The heartache trails down to the 2754 of the four-part row of digits. Nobara quivers her lips as she tries to swallow down pills of regrets, exclusion, and despondency.

Residing dust forces a couple of coughs out of Inumaki. He waves off the floating particles and goes for the next book off Gojo sensei’s shelve. He grabs the spine of the book and slowly pulls it out.

He gave up being curious on the subject matter of these books once he cleared the first row. Just of bunch of thick, mind-numbing pieces on Jujutsu, Cursed Energy, or Autobiographies on retired sorcerers.

Turning from the back cover, in red bold letters his purple eyes reads: Learning Sign Language for your students. Written by... sounds like a random Japanese woman with some fancy doctor degree.

Narrow eyes widen as confusing experiences lingering in his memory begin to click and warp into sense.

On the third day of his first year, he remembers cringing at Gojo’s attempt to speak random rice ball ingredients to him. That was his “way” of trying to connect with him. Offended, Inumaki wrote him off and ignored any potential conversation to have with him at that point.

Around early June, he walked up to see Gojo silently greeting him with fluid movements of his hands and fingers. As fluent as someone who been signing JSL for several years. Was that the reason he stopped trying to conversate with him three weeks prior?

Taken back, Inumaki slowly signed back, leading to having their first full conversation ever. It ended with Gojo patting him on the shoulder and Inumaki turning to watch his goofy sensei walk off in a cheerful mood.

Inumaki caresses the book and notices the personal sticky notes poking out of many pages. He looks behind him to see Panda pre-occupied. Inumaki sets the book in his bag, setting it aside to read through later. He shakes his head and stares at the half empty shelve for a long moment before continuing his duty.

Panda was busy distracting himself with Satoru’s doodads instead of effectively cleaning out his office. Throw in the fact that it was a journey to simply carry things that would have taken him a few seconds to put away had he been in his original big body. But the funeral starts in a few hours so he has to stop monkeying around soon.

Panda frowned. There was barely any time to “monkey around” ever since Satoru died. It seems like when he died, he took the fun and security with him. Did most of his friends grow to be so powerful from the battle on Shinjuku? Sure, they’re practically monsters at this point.

But for a long time, Satoru’s level of strength gave them breathing room to take off the sorcerer mask sometimes. Now that he’s gone, there was no room to be a kid anymore. His friends are teenagers cursed with adult responsibilities; the rest of their adolescence stripped away like a bloody band aid.

He’s a panda so he doesn’t really understand that feeling. However, he sees it with the forced smiles he’s greeted one second with frowns pulling them down moments after. Desensitized responses they all show in public contrasted with the quiet weeping he hears going on late night campus walks. It will always give him emotional whiplash.

Life after Satoru was a canvas board of still grey with overwhelming dark blue surrounding it.

Panda opens a brown box to see a bunch of stuffing peeking out. Dropping down, he turns the box around to see in black marker: Spare stuffing for Panda.

Panda releases a deep sigh. He feels his stitches ache all over.

Loose blue strains spills over the wholesome photo of her and Gojo that day. A day where her biggest concern was not looking stupid in front of the cute, strong, funny teacher at the Tokyo campus of Jujutsu High. A day where her classmates bickered with coal still in their eyes. A day when Mai was cranky and alive. When Mechamaru...

Miwa shuts her eyes as her tears soaks her eyelashes. Blurry eyes open to take in the photo that seem like centuries ago, when it was only since September. Gojo’s peace sign and shared chipper smiles fill the holes in Miwa’s heart for a moment. Her thumbs zoom in on Gojo and lingers over his tall figure dominating most of the selfie.

A small smile forms behind the isolated blues. “Gojo...”

Kusakabe groans, rubbing the back of his head whenever his mind wanders to that blue eyed trouble maker. There were days he enjoyed the consistent stillness without that loudmouth breaking it. Then there were others where the silence was drowning; his cheery, obnoxious voice completely void to lift up everyone’s spirits when needed. Today was one of those days.

Twirling his toothpick, he remembers the countless times Gojo annoyed the hell out of him with his comments and pranks. There wasn't a day where he wouldn’t drag one of the Jujutsu faculty and staff in his shenanigans. So bad that one-time Gojo went too far and it ended with Kusakabe wishing he was dead.

Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

Kusakabe looks up at the passing clouds trailing through the blue. For such a day for Jujutsu High, the sky didn’t reflect the collective feeling. The man bats his eyes as the ambient nature lures him into a still mind.

“Kusakabe!? Are we serious right now!?” One of the higher ups barked.

Gojo shakes his head, “Is there ever a day you guys don’t bitch about--”

“I agree that sending me would be a horrible idea.” Kusakabe interrupted. Gojo turns to see Kusakabe wearing a “Yes sir. No sir.” attitude. He knew he was lying.

Kusakabe has been looking forward to a sorcerer mission like this ever since he met him. A mission where all you do is investigate and gather information, no risking your life, no fighting at all really. More like a trip out on Japan’s quiet grassy countryside with a side quest of being an undercover sorcerer representing Jujutsu High.

Gojo steps forward. “Kusakabe is our best grade 1 sorcerer. He’s no fighter and a nice guy for the most part. He would be better to talk to lame country folk than I am...”

The elders remain silent. Kusakabe can feel the tension rising. “Gojo, you don’t have to--”

“I got too much other shit going on to do some boring mission in the countryside. If you send me instead of him then you guys are more senile than I thought.”

“Gojo!” Kusakabe quickly turned to the many shoji screens hiding the higher up’s bodies. The fact that he had no idea how they were reacting put his worry in overdrive.

One of the elders sighs, “We don’t feel like arguing with you on this. If you truly think Kusakabe of all people would fit this mission then so be it. But if he fails this, he will suffer the consequences. His mistakes are not on us.”

“When is it ever on you?” Gojo bounced back.

“Dismissed.” The other elder said.

Once they left the room, Gojo wraps his arms around Kusakabe shoulders and bellowed out his carefree laugh. “Don’t forget to bring me back some gifts. You owe me afterall.”

Kusakabe lowers his head away from the blue and moving white to face the cracked, washed solid grey.

His heart didn’t ache for Gojo. Tears didn’t trail down for him either. But the crumbs of memories made him appreciate the little explosive highlights he gave his boring, uneventful life. Like those popping candies that felt like fireworks in your mouth.

Yeah, Gojo was those popping rock candies.

Hakari holds the stack of yen as the various fights go on the multiple T.V. screens. Licking his thumb, he counts through the overwhelming amounts of money from his lucky bets. Although he’s been hanging around Jujutsu High more as of recent, lately everything has been about Gojo, his death and preparing for his funeral. All of the mope and serious mumbo jumbo was getting to Hakari, so he retreated to his fight club.

“When does it start?” Kirara asked, her pink french tips gently caressing his ashy blonde thick hair.

Hakari shrugs, “Donno. Seems like everyone is too depressed to talk n’ shit.”

Banding up the yen, Hakari montages the times Gojo left him feeling the fever he often seeks out of many.

Training him so hard he puked the rest of that day. Pushing him to go after Kirara and teasing him about his crush. Giving him shitty relationship advice. That one time they did that silly pose where they flashed their teeth then flexed their muscles for the camera. Cheating Gojo out of thousands of yen over a wrong move during Blackjack.

Hakari traces the numbers of the yen, smirking over the fun times that crazy man with the blindfold gave him.

Two streaks of damp wet are noticed when the wind sway past Ijichi’s jawline. Another dam of woe threatens to burst until he quickly wipes his sore undereye. He doesn’t even know why he’s getting so emotional over someone who and still--

Not sill. Damnit brain, get with the program.

Someone who used to bully him relentlessly ever since they were kids up until just a few weeks ago. To him, Gojo was nothing but...

Why are you still here? Need me to punch you to get the message?

You failed you’re driving test again? You can’t even do that? Go join a local circus at this point.

Shoko is out of your league, man. You don’t even have the balls to talk to her. How can you expect her to like you.

Ijichi, don’t piss me off.

A guy like that doesn’t deserve his tears. Nope, not at all...

The only person I trust to catch me if I fall is me and, um, Ijichi I think.

Wanna go out for some hot cocoa? It’s freezing today.

Well, well, well. You finally took Shoko out for dinner, huh? I guess the world is ending soon. So, how did it go?

Look, Ijichi may be a wet doormat but he’ll get things done for us and the students. C’mon guys, give him more credit than that.

Ijichi huffs a stuttered breath. Nope. Nope. No. No. No--

You’re the man I trust the most. That’s the only reason I need.

Ijichi breaks down. A new coat of tears staining his dry skin. His wrung heart soaked again with a grief too complex to explain.

Cigarette smoke brush past Shoko’s dry, dull brown hair. No tears had nor will shed for her childhood friend. She wasn’t a crier, even when she was little. When her father died a long time ago, not one tear dropped.

Instead, there was heavy rocks that magically weighed in her chest. A weight too heavy for her slim body to carry. A weight she dismisses publicly but can’t ignore in private. So, in true Shoko fashion, she grabs a pack of ciggies and breaks her 11th vow to never smoke again. Looking out on the campus field, her eyes strain with stress and lack of sleep. Her heavy heart was to blame this time.

“Can’t believe I’m being peer pressured right now.” Gojo says in a jokingly nervous tone.

Shoko lifts up the cigarette, unlit and waiting. “I’m tired of being “The Smoker Chick” of our school. It’s always so lonely smoking by myself.”

“Regardless if I smoke this or not, you’ll always be “The Smoker Chick”.”

“Gojo please.”

Gojo sighs and contemplates the nicotine stick itching to ruin someone’s lungs. He was far from being a goody too shoes but smoking wasn’t his thing.

“You’ll look so cool doing it. It’ll just be between us.” Shoko persisted.

Gojo rolled his eyes and snatched the cig from her. He placed it between his perfect, straight whites and waited a moment before turning to Shoko. Shoko stood in disbelief until Gojo snapped his fingers in front of her.

“Well hurry up and light it!” Shoko quickly digs in her pocket and lights the white end. It takes a few seconds for the cigarette to burn before smoke waves out of the tip. Gojo inhales then blows out a line of smoke effortlessly. Shoko gasps, “How did you not cough?”

“Duh! Look who you’re talking to.”

“Oh...yeah. Right.”

The juxtaposition of Gojo’s divine-like aura and angelic appearance partaking in the trashy, commoner act of smoking was a sight to behold. Almost like he gave a middle finger to his reputation as the strongest sorcerer and decided to be a normal dude for once. Shoko remembers judging Gojo’s bougie attitude during freshman year. She saw his snobbish nature a mile away before he even introduced himself to the class. One thing about Gojo though, he never failed to surprise her with his willingness to bring himself down from heaven.

Shoko is dazed by Gojo puffing out a few quick smokes before she is presented a hit.

“This shit tastes awful. How do you smoke these every thirty minutes?” Gojo barfed his tongue out.

Shoko giggles and breathes in the loud smoke that always hugs her brain. “Helps me stay numb to the bad stuff in the world.”

Although that was Gojo’s first and last time ever smoking, their budding friendship springs tenfold.

Shoko was back at that same spot they wasted their youth a decade and so ago. Only there was no arrogant, annoying but funny classmate to secretly cast her judgement on anymore. What only remains is a cigarette and a woman who had an uneventful life outside of being a sidekick to Gojo’s adventures.

She takes another hit, her tongue recoils at the cigarette taste. Now she gets what he meant back then.

The drizzling rain show no signs of giving nature a break from the drab, cold atmosphere. Megumi lays against his cushioned but firm mattress, his brain refusing to move his body. Tears quietly drip down to damp the grey sheets, adding to the collection of wet dots on his bed. The air condition overpowered the pitter-patter behind the window. The dull sound clearing his head to reflect his whirlwind called life these past couple months.

Countless memories punched his mind. There was so many foggy, forgettable memories of Gojo growing up. His attempt to give them meaning and higher resolution gave him a slight headache.

First his sister then--

Gojo.

He saw it while being a few feet away; Gojo’s blood forming small puddles, leaving his body with his life tagging along. The tired whisper of “My bad, Megumi.” a few moments before his eyes went still. He couldn’t even respond due to that curse going on about some dumb speech after almost getting both of them killed.

Sukuna.

Heat overwhelmed his body as soon as the name rung. He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Red and blue hatred evolves into purple flames the longer it sits, burns, and melds. Never has he felt so much rage off a name alone.

Blood on his hands without the purpose and maliciousness to back it up. Sukuna was gone but the damage will never fade away. It’s here to overstay it’s welcome and haunt him forever.

“Good riddance.” Maki lets the intrusive thoughts travel to whispers.

Alone in the tidy bathroom, she struggles to create grief over someone that just annoyed her most of the time. The only one she believes deserved her grief was her sister, Mai.

Don’t get her wrong, she respected the hell out of Gojo’s strength. But the only solid memories she has of him is sending her favorite junky snacks whenever it was her time of the month and excused her from class that week.

Other than that, he was like a gnat that wouldn’t get out of your face. Loud for no reason. Failed to read the room. Teased her about Yuta, even during the time he went to Africa. Pestering her about dumb school shit. Yeah, that’s the Gojo she knows. Not this revisionist history almost everyone on campus is crafting for him now that the bastard is gone gone.

Yuta and Gojo had a closer relationship than others students, which unfortunately, makes him stricken with the depressing “Gojo is gone” epidemic too. But compared to him and the Jujutsu High students and staff, he actually has good reason to grieve.

It’s just too overwhelming to deal with for more than an hour. She had to get a breather from seeing someone she cares about so defeated emotionally. She seen Yuta cry before but not to this extent, not this long either.

Another round of sobs scolds her indifference to Gojo as they breakthrough the thick bathroom door. Maki looks down and moves her toes against the maroon bathroom rug to build back her patience and tolerance. Letting out a short breath, she pushes herself off the sink and keeps her stoic disposition.

A blank, emotionally collected expression that means well beneath the surface.

Yuta cries drag out as he lays on the floor. Maki shifts when she places a palm against his back, not sure how to handle his anguish and piercing sobs.

Thankfully, Yuta’s dorm was positioned to be isolated at the end of the hall. The other male student's dorms are spaced out from each other so he didn’t have any direct neighbors. But still, his mourning was loud enough to hear muffles across his front door.

“Yuta.” Maki said.

She didn’t know what to say exactly. She, like many other Zenins, weren’t the best when it came to nurturing. Even though she feels nothing about Gojo dying, she feels everything seeing her best friend so ...devastated.

Yuta looks up at her for a long moment, tears trailing by the second, lips quivering, throat tight with words he can no longer say to his sensei. He hugs her waist and cries into her chest.

“I used him, Maki. He’s gone and the first thing I did was use him. It should have been--”

“Stop. Don’t finish that. It shouldn’t have been anyone else instead. He did what he had to do for us to win.” Maki comforted. Yuta shakes his head, unable to accept logical reasoning.

“I-I-I...” He sucks in his breath after every attempt to speak. "I didn’t even get to say--”

Yuta hurls, his mouth seconds away from bursting open. Maki quickly goes for the bucket and puts it under his head. He pukes for the third time today, projecting out yesterday's lunch and dinner that he ate too little of. Maki sighs and pats his back to get him to vomit it all out. Ever since he returned back to his original body, Yuta has been puking whenever he thinks about the most fucked-up stunt he ever pulled.

Once Yuta was done, he sobs tamed down to a string of lingering cries. He didn’t bother to change his shirt or wipe the corners of his mouth. Maki grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the small bits of vomit around his mouth. She heads back into the bathroom to clean out the half-filled blue bucket yet again.

Looking up, he sees a framed picture of him and Gojo during his time in Africa. Gojo had him in a headlock whilst making him laugh about something he hates that he can’t remember. Yuta heart swells, the picture clearly being taken off guard by Miguel. Another wave of sorrow drowns him the longer he stares at Gojo in his white dress shirt, sunglasses, alive and well...

Yuta face scrunches, a fresh sting of tears falling down. He lays down on the cold floor, allowing the grief to lure him to sleep.

Yuji rubs over his face, a stubborn migraine pinching his thoughts. Snot leaking to tease the tip of his tongue. Eyes in desperate need of a bottle of eyedrops to make up for the tiny streams it released the past few hours. His mind was active but his body was lazy, lying on his bed through the whole morning. But he had to get this eulogy done, if nothing else.

“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled...whether you were a man, woman, or child. He’d... He’d... He-- dammit!”

He turns on his stomach and picks up the paper again. He reads over the line again, then two more times to write it on his memory.

“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.”

Again.

“Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Yuji groans.

“Don’t say hell, that might not fly well.” He scolded himself.

Yuji sets the paper on his nightstand so his brain can have a break. He read over his eulogy so many times that his mind is starting to slip with the constructed presentation he went over since last night. It doesn’t help that throughout this practicing, he’s been crying whenever he gets lost in thought about Gojo-sensei. Maybe he needs to cool down a bit.

On the edge of his window sits one of Gojo’s many blindfolds. Yuji reaches over with minimal effort and caress the fabric. Black cotton comforts his fingertips while Yuji gives this simple thing a soft gaze. The very first thing he noticed about that strange looking man on that life changing night.

Scenes of warm and fun premiere from his memory bank, each starring Gojo sensei. Smiles to laughter with jokes, ease, and good food in between.

Sensei steals a fry from Nobara’s--

Sliced open. Blood dripping down white baggy pants and black combat slippers. Torso on the ground. Harsh ice blue still yet soft. Live and unskippable. Live with no rewinds. Sukuna’s joy celebrated in the wrong body. No more rough ruffles on the head. No more boring lessons elevated by high-energy humor and multiple tangents of his glory days.

Yuji winces and attempts to rub out the migraine and horrible memories intruding the good. There is a knock on the door. “You’re not naked are you?” Nobara voice is heard from behind the door.

Yuji shakes his head as if Nobara could see. “No.”

Nobara walks in, remnants of rain dripping from her raincoat. She had a blank face, her usual energy turned down a few notches. “Hey.”

Yuji barely lifts up a wave, still smoothing out his nerves. “Hi.”

“So everyone is either busy or depressed so you’re my last hope around here.” Nobara confessed. Yuji lifted up the eulogy, “Can’t. Too busy.”

Nobara sucks her teeth then observes Yuji’s face. “You look like you’re more in the too depressed camp than the too busy one.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Nobara walks over and grabs the eulogy. Yuji lays back down, “Since you’re here, I need to clarify one last thing for my speech. Did sensei buy you those tampon things or those purple diapers?”

Nobara stops reading and shoots him a look. “Why are you broadcasting my period for the whole Jujutsu High to hear?”

“It’s supposed to be one of the many things Gojo did for us as students. I couldn’t think of anything else, cut me some slack.”

Nobara sighs, “He used to get me pain meds and a bunch of tampons whenever my cramps would go into overdrive. And it’s called pads, not purple diapers.”

Yuji nodded and formed a curve of a smile. “Thanks, Kugisaki.”

“I could go and hang out with some girls I know from other schools but it looks like the rain is getting worse. What time is the funeral anyway?”

“It’s in four hours, around two I think.”

Nobara nodded, “Guess I’ll just go back to my dorm and sulk like everyone else. See you later.” She gets off to leave. “Oh, save me a seat too.”

Yuji nodded with a frown, not having enough optimism left to give fake smiles. “Sure, see you.”

Alone again, Yuji picks up the worn white sheet with creases and wrinkles. Headache tamed, he decides to recite again. You can never be too polished.

“Gojo-sensei was a...”

Todo sheds single strings of tears while many games of ping pong against Gojo replays in his mind. Besides Mei Mei, Gojo was his common partner in his favorite sport. Now that he’s gone, he had no one to slam “cheating” allegations to in an intense game during the humid, long summer afternoons.

Ui Ui sniffles as he looks down, avoiding the blunt reality of the casket up ahead. He wasn’t the biggest acquaintance of Gojo but a few moments of the past built a friendly nature between them. His briberies of fried bananas to get direct access to Mei Mei. Being a one-man audience (he slept through his blindfold) for spoken word poetry he wrote about his sister when no one else bothered to hear. Gojo never failed to match his childish energy when other adults or big kids were “too busy” to entertain him. The boy’s quiet sniffles prompted a head rub from his older sibling.

The pointy ends of Mei Mei’s red nails pierce through her left palm. Her right palm comforts the juvenile emotions of her baby brother. Her face remains calm but blue fire bursts in her heart.

1.5 Million yen. All that rich fuck had to do is pay me 1.5 million yen back and what does he do? Fuck around and die. Hmph! He probably died to cheap his way out of his debt. Damn you Satoru Gojo. Damn him.

Ino stood with his ski-mask firm against his chest, looking forward with respect. Gojo was more like an older brother than a co-worker. Despite the pain he feels, he refuses to look away from the body.

Momo stands next to Miwa, people watching the many guests standing in line to pay their personal respects to the body. As soon as she came, she made sure to grab the nearest seat and keep her head down. Dead bodies always freaked her out. People always assumed she be fine with that kind of stuff since she gives “witchy” vibes but no way. It was the way the body just sat there, all sense of spark or fire vanished. Also, that silly fear that a dead body will raise and walk towards her. God, she hopes they close the casket soon.

Kirara hugs on to Hakari’s arm as she quietly weeps to herself. Hakari wasn’t the “comforting” type but all she needs from him was his arm and shoulder for support. During the time it was her vs. the conservative Jujutsu World when she decided to transition, Gojo was one of the few who had her back. She has his support from the moment she began dressing feminine all the way to the moment she began going by Kirara. It wasn’t a problem for Gojo to call her by her true name right away since he thought her dead name was forgettable as hell.

Sure, Gojo wasn’t perfect and had his moments where his views were a bit dated, but he was willing to own up to his mistakes and learn for the better. She’ll never forget the stereotypical girly shit he would buy her because he didn’t know her personal taste that well, not that she even knew at the time either. Corny gifts and unconditional support are why her mascara and eyeliner were messy all around her under eye.

Most attendees dressed in purple while others sulked in black. Ages from teen to end of the road mingled together within a pot of grief, visible respect, and reservation. Some felt internal relief that the bastard was gone. Some cried harder than they would if their actual father died.

Gojo lied still in a polished classic black casket, wearing a blank emotion that he would hate everyone to see. His cut, pieced back by Shoko, was barely noticeable. If you weren’t given the details of his death, you’d probably would question how he died. The line to view his body was beginning to reach its end, preparing everyone to mentally checkout for an hour and a half.

A collected Megumi stared at Gojo in a distracted haze. It was stupid, but he felt like Gojo was playing some sick prank and he’s going to pop out and yell some stupid shit any second now. The longer he stares at the body’s lack of movement, the confirmation rings hollow in his mind. Thankfully Nobara and Yuji kept to themselves, because he’s not in the mood to make idle small talk to take their mind off the obvious.

Yuta’s sorrow could be heard faintly throughout the large quiet space but not loud enough to distract from the ceremony. His tears took all of the moisture from his face, leaving him paler than usual. Messy black hair clashed with his neat tux that took forever to fit him in. It was a miracle for Maki to get him in that, let alone bring him here.

It was a tough sight to see as Yuta was now regarded as the strongest sorcerer of the upcoming generation. Yuta usually had a friendly, shy demeanor around his peers while being focused and stoic during battle. It was rare to see such a rock morph into glass, his pieces laid for the whole institution to see.

Yuta could care less, the repercussions of his public image being in an awkward, pitiful state wasn’t even a thought in the thick of his pain. He could repair that with time and his rapid growing reputation. This is the last time he’ll ever see Gojo-sensei and his heart can’t take it.

Throughout most of the service, Yuji idly stares at Gojo-sensei’s memorial card. A portrait of him wearing a bright, goofy smile placed above the December 7th, 1989 - December 25th, 2018 felt like visual whiplash. Yet, he kept staring at it until a microphoned call of his name lifts his head up.

“Itadori-kun, are you still going to read your eulogy for us today?” Ijichi directs, slightly confused of Yuji’s zoned out state.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just...” Yuji grabs the piece of paper from Nobara’s lap and scoots through the aisle. He walks up to the podium, feeling stares and invisible opinions hover over his back. He gently grabs the mic from Ijichi and sets his eulogy across his face.

Looking up, the stares feel more intense as the rows and rows of straight-faces set social anxiety in his stomach. It was weird, he usually had no problem speaking publicly to an audience, he was a social butterfly after all. Funerals love throwing everyone’s vibe off, even a generally confident one like his, he assumes.

“Um, hi guys—hi everyone.”

He quickly goes over the first line to trigger his trained memory to make the speech sound fluent and genuine. He prays to whoever is listening to not let his mind go blank at a time like this.

“Gojo sensei was a goofball.”

The silence screams for a moment as the opening line registers in everyone’s minds. A few chuckle, most keep their solemn unimpressed looks, while others are not even on this planet. Yuji clears his throat.

“He was unserious when things were tense. He trolled you whether you were a man, woman, or child. Hell, he’d even walk in your dorm to check on you, only to leave with your house slippers moments later.” Many students laughed at the last comment. Yuji looks up and chuckles along, a confidence block stacked.

“He wasn’t a teacher who sugar-coated things, his words were more salt-coated. It stings from being so blunt, but it was needed in order for you to have more flavor.” Yuji takes a quick scan and sees that more people are in tuned with his words. Second block stacked.

“Growing up, I only had my grandfather for family. So while I kinda knew what it was like to have a dad, I spent a good portion of my life taking care of him during his last years so I forgot what it felt like. Gojo reminded me of that feeling.”

“He gave life advice outside of teaching. He would take us out for ice cream after missions. One time, he bought those weird tampon things and sea salt caramel ice cream for Nobara during her...y’know.” Nobara gives him a look after he shoots a nervous chuckle her way.

“He would walk Megumi’s dogs on Saturday mornings. He’d crack a joke in sign that only Inumaki-senpai would understand. He was tough on me, Hakari-senpai, and Okkotsu-senpai during training because he wanted us to take advantage of the potential we couldn’t see. He was...”

Yuji looks up to see Yuta staring at him with teary but curious eyes, desperate to know what he’s about to lay on the crowd next. Yuji directs a small, sympathetic smile at him then looks down.

“He was our constant entertainment during the long, boring hours of our jobs. He unlocked the laughter and ease that we often hid to condition ourselves so we could endure the next mission. He made hell feel like home. He was our Gojo-sensei when the world just saw him as Gojo Satoru.”

Tears don’t hold back on some folks faces. What they expected to be a generic but appropriate eulogy turned out to be an off-beat, heartfelt, kinda corny eulogy written by a dude who loved his teacher. A rare case of a dude who isn’t clever with words evoking more emotions out of a crowd more than any writer ever could.

“I’m sure some of you struggle to move forward with this loss. Some of you may simply be here to pay respects and move on with their lives preferably without sensei. Or you may be like me, someone just going through the motions and may not know what to do, say, think, or feel. But Gojo-sensei is gone and all we can do is reflect on the echos of his existence.”

Yuji lets out a deep breath, satisfied to have gotten through his eulogy, the weight off his shoulders. His eyes flickers to see many nodding at his last statement. He scans through his last sentence and nods to himself to bring it home.

“Thank you, Gojo-sensei, for being the goofball with the blindfold and thank you all for listening.” Everyone except the elders clapped for Yuji, moved by his honest words and pure approach. Yuji didn’t register the applause nor Ijichi’s transition to the next segment since his heart was pounding against his left chest.

There was another wrinkle added to the eulogy when he goes to sits back down. He stares at his knees to contemplate his social triumph. Nobara looks at him and pats his upper back while Megumi simply gives him a blank look, jailing his “Good job.”. Yuji breathes deep through his nose and gives himself little nods, back in his own world to process those past few minutes.

The rest of the service goes smoothly, time moving quicker due to Yuji black flashing through the seemingly unbreakable ice. After the main service, many students and staff agreed to meet at the school yard where the funeral bonfire repast will be held.

While Gojo was being cremated, the bonfire turned out to be a lively celebration of life after so much grief wrung at the service. Snow trinkled down amongst the light conversations, coping dark humor, taste bud-rising food and drinks, and tear stains. Taking a break entertaining his peers, Yuji looked up to admire the floating ice. His irises went up and down, low right and high left, no different from when he saw snow as a kid. Laughter and smiles were behind Yuji, but all he can feel was the snow nurturing the child he locked away.

Ashes leave out of the hands of many, gliding above the flowers revived by spring. Cherry blossom petals dance with Gojo in the gentle wind. The early days of April was always Gojo’s favorite time of the year, it was only fitting that his departure was during its peak.

The new year of Jujutsu High begins without the blindfolded goofball to kick it off with overwhelming enthusiasm and junior high-level jokes. Second years, third years, and even the students that graduated are moving forward after months of mental detours. Now, there was a fresh set of first years oblivious to the horrors and traumas that awaits them. It’s a pity they won’t have that funny man in the sunglasses to help them endure their next twelve months of hell.

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fantastic-mr-corvid · 1 month ago

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Tesoros name can be very annoying sometimes bc to those close to him its just... his name, but if Elena mentions him to other people they are suddenly like 🤨 boyfriend?? and she suddenly remembers what it actually means and wants to throw him of a cliff for putting her in that situation. How does she explain that hes just her... whats the inversion of a fag hag. That. No romance whatsoever.

#gold & silver #Tesoro didnt even pick his name he got stuck with it #but whenever it causes an awkward conversation they still imagine killing *him* with hammers #but calling him Cavallero is both weird and also only happens when you are to cowardly to call him Tesoro bc of like fragile masculinity #so they just have to deal with the annoying confusion of others

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kindaasrikal · 3 months ago

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How tf did this fanfic actually reach 5k words already on chapter one and its not even half way completed.

The things i do for morro 😭

#morro ninjago #i actually clutter up tjis tag sm #with my bull #its WIRTH IT #fanfics #fanfiction #writing #i know it might not seem like a lot rn #but i havent written for up to half a year now #so im a bit bafflef aftet having done so much in just four days every night #i also blame jay tbh #lego ninjago #hes the other main focus on this chapter #if anyone actually sees thsi post and looks at the tags #heres a lil explanation of what the fic is about #morro in his resurrection was only partially healed from it #leaving him suffering through somethinb that makes him go through quite a biy #and messes with hdi everyday life #despite him and teh ninja having come to a small balance of pecae #for a bit #the issues with his health is starting to impact that negatively #and Morro doesn’t actually tell anyone wth is going wrong about him #because he lowkey thinks its normal and not that big a deal #and the other ninja have no idea so they get awfully annoyed with morro but also just a tad concerned and confused because #wth is actually wring with this guy #and Lloyd might tackle Morro (understandably) in his chapter

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itsalwaysdark · 2 months ago

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having a midlife crisis atm i think i might start reading [redacted] this is rly scary for me keep me in your thoughts

#i dont know yet. i might not #its been tempting me lately ............ which is weird bc ive never much been interested in the genre like at all its just been sticking i #my head like fungus lately. We will see i suppose #im blaming like 8 of my oomfies for this #rly not that big a deal if i do ig its not like a bad thing im just confused as to why ive recently become interested in it. it was like i #saw one post and its not like the first post ive even seen abt it i see them always but i saw one and then i went in the tags for ages and #i just have been thinking abt it non-stop....#i havent like spoiled myself for anything idt ive been like passively spoiled for years bc its hard to avoid. i cant elaborate anymore.....#IDK im just confused bc like i said ive never much cared for [genre] aside from like ... [well known example of movie in genre]...... and i #have like known abt it my whole life obviously im just very confused. this post isnt vague enough its probably quite obvious #yep thats right im reading. um. fahrenheit 451. joke #that was assigned reading once i think its the first assigned reading ever where i didnt read it but that was bc it was like. it was so #weird how that teacher did the assignments bc they didnt Hand out the books they just like . expected ppl to read them on their free time ?#like none of us received the books sometimes on google classrooms theyd post A chapter of the graphic novel version #and the assignments were all rly unclear and like. Idk maybe i was stupid but i remember talking abt it with my friends back then and nobod #knew what was going on At all #and it wasnt like. they didnt post every chapter on google classroom itd be like. an excerpt from chapter 13 and then chapter 5 and then on #page from 24 and then wed go in and the questions were abt chapter 8 like. it was rly confusing #all those chapters or we r made up idr. ots all quite fuzzy #but yeah. so despite being assigned it kn class and i think passing i genuinely know absolutely nothing abt f451 aside from i used to get i #mixed up w 1984 alllll the time and i still do a bit. but 1984 is the one with bigbrother and f451 is um. bookburning ... i assume #sry i sound rly stupid . im not trying to diminish them or anything i just dk #also when i say midlife crisis yes i know typically 19 is not considered the middle of your life and it prolly isnt for me lol. but im #saying midlife 1 as a joke 2 it could be like Amid life which could be like any point during my life it could be if i turned 70 and had a #crisis itd still be mid life #and rly if you consider it as like. life is everything between birth and death then its all in the middle of tour life bc the middle is jus #thing in between those 2 things ok #sry ive always found it mildly annoying and also quarter life crisis sounds stupid and my ass is not living to #76 are you kiddingggg. 50s at the latest most likely #<- not planning anything or like not wanting to grow old i just have exclusive info others dont have (cant talk abt it LOL) abt that stuff

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candidcondor · 3 months ago

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Broken like a record where the needle skips the sheet-

Constant humming in my head- the question I repeat

I shake and knaw my teeth, toss the thought and turn away-

Is it really sensible to feel both the night and day?

Prehistoric rhetoric screams of two types and no more-

While science says there’s more than that still, a wholly unopened door.

I shouldn’t feel such shame to wonder how real my findings are

But I’d rather hate to show the world a truth I find subpar

Never once yet have I felt like “Man” or “Woman” fit.

“Kid” was cool when I was young but now it doesn’t hit.

Am I male or am I not? I haven’t yet to choose.

There’s more to me I cannot grasp, a fish I always lose.

Some days I’ll feel girlier and twirl around a dress

But other times if worn a skirt I’d break down in a mess.

Im inbetween the two extremes but never in one place

The genders where I find myself are far vaster than their space

I understand it’s a-okay to never pick a side,

But imperfect and destructive, I’d rather hurt than bear to show the girly parts I hide.

Does it make me a bitter man to lock that piece of myself away?

I suppose it can’t hurt that much more than being a girl every day.

#just calling myself an enby feels too binary to encompass my identity #I’m nonbinary but in a way that’s hard to express #I’m very much a guy but I’m also a girl and a creature and a being and boy and many other things #that often happen at the same time #like- bread can just be bread but it can be sourdough and focaccia and rye and it can have a million things in it and even the wh you make #-the same bread means it can turn out very different from batch to batch even if it’s the same bread #you know?#I hate when I’m not just one thing- when I’m not just one simple answer #because being more than one thing is so confusing and hard #but alas #for some reason #it’s never as simple as “green” or “blue”#it’s always teal with yellow pinstripes or some shit #and it’s really annoying when sometimes you’re yellow and you hate yellow #or you’re azure and suddenly you’re purple #like dude. can’t it just be one color. now I gotta deal with all the colors in the rainbow because SOMEBODY likes customization options.#fml. unfair having more than one gender to worry about in this economy

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tonicpopped · 1 year ago

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what is it?... yea its more tag posts

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livinghalfway · 11 days ago

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Seeing Double

Damian is always annoyed when he has to deal with kidnappers wanting to make some quick cash hoping to ransom him back to his father. As much as he wants to just fight them, and be done with it he knows that he can’t. Father had told him repeatedly that in order to maintain cover he couldn’t deal with these types of issues when he was supposed to be nothing but a regular civilian.

Someone from the family should be showing up soon though as Damian had pressed the distress beacon as soon as he noticed that he was being followed by some very obvious criminals. That are only going to be referred to as idiot A and idiot B in his mind.

Which is why he mostly complies as they grab him from the van and proceed to drag him inside an old rundown building where two other criminals, idiot C and idiot D, are already waiting with grinning faces. What immediately sets Damian on edge though is when they notice their entrance those smiles instantly disappear.

Idiot A and B don’t seem to notice their fellow criminals' sudden shift in attitude though.

“It seems we were the ones to find the Wayne brat after all boys! Bets a bet fellas, and I’m expecting payment in the form of dinner.” Idiot A dragging him farther inside announces to the room before noticing the other two don’t seem to be sharing his excitement. “Come on guys just because Jakob and I won the bet doesn’t mean we’re not all getting paid today! No need to look so down.”

“But we won the bet? Damian Wayne is already tied up in the other room.” Idiot C says as he confusingly looks between Damian and a door off to the side. Whoever was confused for him is mostly likely on the other side then. Great, another thing he will have to worry about while he’s here.

Idiot B grabs his shoulder and even shakes Damian as he speaks, “No, this is Damian Wayne!”

All four of them are now staring at him before Idiot D speaks up, “I still think the other kid is the real Damian.”

“It doesn’t matter which one is the real Wayne kid. Our plan still works; we can still get our money! Just- just tie this one up, and put him with the other one. We still have a schedule we need to stick to.”

Now, Damian knew that when he saw the other boy being held here that they would probably have similar features, but he wasn’t expecting to actually see his own face looking back at him. More correctly though his long thought gone twin brother’s face.

He’d recognize that face anywhere; he gave Danyal that scare after all.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #batfam #damian and danny are twins #dc x dp prompt #dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp au #dcxdp

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lovelivision · 5 months ago

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RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP!?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: geto suguru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 11.9k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friendships are hard, especially when the lines are so blurry you can't tell where the both of you stand. so what do you do when you catch feelings on top of all that ??

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, angst (?), swearing, making out, annoying drunk stranger, fingering, dirty talk, marking, titty worship, p in v sex, clit slapping, creampie, geto fucks mean, geto is a TEASE, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, i think that's all !!

Being friends with Geto Suguru isn’t hard… in theory but in practice it’s one of the most difficult things you’ve ever had to do. It’s especially difficult because he does things for you that feel like they’re pushing the boundaries of a normal friendship without actually doing anything weird.

Things like his insistence on bringing things for you when you’re feeling down, showing you extra care in how he talks to you, hanging out with you and having frequent movie nights, being attentive to your needs. While those things are innocuous in theory, it’s the way he treats you, talks to you and how it makes you feel that has your friendship feeling like it’s on a precarious ledge. Caught between pulling back or pushing over.

Sighing, your foot kicks at his sitting form, “Don’t you have something better to do tonight?”

“Like what?” His eyebrow raises at you, eyeing your lazy form, spread out comfortably on your couch.

You’d feel bad for taking up the whole couch if you weren’t so comfortable, “I don’t know, like a date? Hanging with friends? Going out on the town or whatever youths do.”

“Firstly, I’m older than you–”

Interjecting to add, “–Not by much!”

He only rolls his eyes, ignoring your interruption all together, “To your other points, I’m not interested in dating right now, and I am hanging out with a friend.”

Sighing louder than last time, foot pushing him enough to sway him, “Aren’t you bored of me?”

“No?” his brows pinching in confusion, “Should I be?” Hand grabbing your foot to stop it from kicking at him.

You pout, trying to pull yourself free of his grip, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t say stupid things,” he huffs, amused by your struggle. “I could ask you the same thing you know.”

“I like hanging out with you,” you grumble at him.

“Yeah, well, I feel the same,” finally letting go of your foot.

You’re feeling restless, he’s your friend, you know he’s your friend, and yet you can’t help hoping that your friendship is just a little bit more special. You groan and kick at him with both your feet.

“Woah, hey!” Both his hands grab at your ankles, pinning them down into the couch, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“I’ve taken notice,” he’s trapping you with a pointed look, waiting for more of an explanation from you.

If you had an explanation, you’d give it to him but as of right now, you aren’t even sure if you’re aware of what you’re feeling enough to verbalise it to him. You deflate, looking back at him sheepishly, “I know you want to know what’s wrong, but I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want me to know?”

Pushing yourself up, you cock your head at him, “The result is the same despite my answer, no?”

“No.” His tone resolute, “I could help,” he returns.

You deliver a very plain, “You can’t.” He’s the cause of your confusion, talking to him could make it all so much worse and you don’t really want to deal with the fallout of all that.

“Woah, awful dismissive of me, I might be able to fix what’s wrong easily.”

Turning so you’re facing the screen, you try to focus on the plot, “You can fix what’s wrong right now by being quiet and watching the movie.”

“I was watching the movie, you distracted me,” he pokes lightly at your shoulder.

Shushing at him quickly, “Shut, I’m trying to listen.”

He doesn’t say anymore, just goes back to watching the movie in silence, probably following the plot better than you are because you’re sat closer to him like this and can’t help but sneak glances at him.

It’s not fair, he looks pretty like this, face illuminated by the soft glow of the television, seemingly entranced by the movie playing. While gazing over his features, you find yourself constantly looking back at his lips, heart stuttering in your chest. You wonder how kissing him would feel like, would it help, wait.

Prying your eyes off him, you desperately hope to be shown some kind of mercy, you shouldn’t want to kiss him, you shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him. You need to get a hold of yourself.

Unfortunately, you are not shown any mercy and all you can manage to think about is him, how soft his lips might be, how he would kiss you, would he be tentative… or would he kiss you like he’s done it a million times before.

Not even realising you’re staring at him again until he sighs and locks his eyes onto yours, “Are you aware you’re staring at me?”

Trying to play it cool by answering, “I was not staring.”

“Are you alright?” He’s growing a little concerned by your unusual behaviour tonight.

“I’m fine! Good even, just… a little lost in thought is all.” You feel guilty.

“And just what exactly are you thinking about?”

Your skin flares at his question, feeling embarrassed by your thoughts, “Nothing! General thoughts… you know…”

“Right…” He’s clearly sceptical, not believing your flimsy answers for even a second, “Have I done something to upset you?”

He’s too much for you right now, you try answering confidently but fail miserably, “No?”

Moving so his body is facing you, he gets into your space, worried by your answer, “Why don’t you sound sure?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions tonight?” You avoid his gaze, flustered by him suddenly so close to you. Still thinking about his lips on yours, in the back of your head thinking about his hands on your body.

“You’re being weird, I’m just concerned,” his hand reaches for your face, “Do you have a fever or something?” His knuckles rest on your cheek, gauging your temperature.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you’re fumbling more than you want to, eyes rounded and shocked looking into his.

It feels like you grow warmer the longer his hand stays on your face, it’s becoming difficult to think. If you had a good reason, you would kick him out right now but you’re already concerning him and you’re trying so hard to be normal. This night is taking a very unfortunate turn.

His face twists, concern written all over it, “You feel a little warm, are you sure you’re okay?” Hand slipping from your cheek, moving to rest against the back of the couch.

Trying to keep your answers short, you give a simple, “I’m sure.”

Geto doesn’t know where to go from here, his silence is evidence of that. You don’t blame him though because you’re not really sure where to go from here either, the thoughts of his lips on yours linger in your mind and you feel as if you could die.

“I just…” He looks to you when you start talking, ready to hear whatever it is you have to say, “I was just thinking – and don’t make this weird – but I was thinking about… how you would kiss me…” your words trail off slightly, growing quieter and quieter with each word.

His eyes widen slightly in response before he switches back to his neutral expression, “I–”

“–I don’t wanna know, don’t talk actually,” you cut him off abruptly, too embarrassed to dissect this any further and certainly not willing to have a conversation with him about it, already regretting having admitted to thinking it.

He questions you, clearly caught between being entertained and somewhat concerned, “I’m not allowed to comment?”

“No.”

“Even though you’ve been thinking about how I would–”

Hurriedly moving your hand to cover his mouth, hissing out, “Shush!”

You’re closer like this, the proximity flustering you, the silence awkward, Geto glares at you from under your hand. He has something to say and is showing clear disdain for your repeated interruptions.

His larger hand reaches up and wraps around your wrist, trying to gently pry your hand away but you hold steady. Growing frustrated with this little tug of war game you have going on, he uses more force to pull your hand down, grabbing your other hand as well. Restraining them both in your lap, keeping you still.

Exasperated when he asks, “Don’t you think you’re overeating slightly?”

“No.” You tug back on his grip but get nowhere.

“Why are you annoyed at me over this? They’re your thoughts,” he reminds.

You’re irritated with how right he is, it’s not his fault you’re thinking like this, but it doesn’t change the fact that sitting right next to him makes it difficult for you to think of anything other than how soft his lips might be, or if he’ll hold you still while he kisses you, or if–

He barks out a quick laugh, “You wanna kiss me that bad?”

Realising you were staring at his lips again you feel like you might spontaneously combust, struggling against his hold and huffing out, “Shut up, just forget I even said anything.”

He sounds restrained and incredibly serious when he murmurs back, “Might not be able to if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Don’t make this even more embarrassing for me, Suguru! It’s your fault,” you accuse indignantly.

Lips quirking evilly, “Oh? So, you want me to fix it then?”

“You should! Take a little responsibility,” you grumble out at him, all pouty and annoyed.

Leaning in closer to press you, “Do you want me to kiss you? Do you think it would help?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” you look to his lips again, gaze getting a little lost as you do.

If Suguru were being honest with you, he’d tell you how much you’re killing him when you look at him like that but he’s stubborn and a tease, so instead he says, “Eyes up here.”

Dragging your eyes back to his and staring daggers, completely pissed at him but mostly yourself for being so obvious again, “Do you think it would help?”

“You’d stop wondering,” he shrugs easily, like this is all so incredibly normal and not uncharted territory for the both of you.

“I don’t want this to make our friendship weird,” feeling pathetic as you look at him, you’re not even sure if what you have together is as simple as a friendship, it feels like so much more. At least, you’re kind of hoping it is, kissing him could do irreparable damage and you don’t just mean in terms of how you act around one another but specifically how you feel about him.

“I won’t let it,” he assures.

“I’m not worried about you…”

He’s taken aback by your small admission, it’s not clear enough for him to make any real conclusions from it or confront you on anything just now but he knows it makes his heart beat faster and flusters him slightly. In all his years of casual dating and serious relationships, you’re the only person to have ever made him feel like such a fool.

“It’s up to you then,” he smiles softly.

You aren’t sure if it’s worth the risk but if this is the only chance you’ll get then you don’t know if you want to risk letting it go by either, “I think… yes.”

Playing dumb, he asks, “‘Yes’ what?”

Your tone lowers again, confident answer short lived when he teases you, “Yes… I want you to kiss me…”

“You’re sure?” He asks but his hands are already moving up your body, one resting against the side of your neck, touch gentle and light.

“I mean… I’m not sure if this is a good idea but I’m sure I want you to kiss me.”

He huffs lightly in disbelief, breath tickling against your lips, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“You…” Frown dusting your features as you utter it, eyes already focused back on his lips.

He doesn’t say anymore after that, faltering in his movements a bit but ultimately moving in completely and pressing his lips to yours delicately. It’s featherlight, kiss shallow and simple, like he’s holding back. It’s still enough to have your head full, full of thoughts of him, of how soft his lips are, how gentle his kisses are.

Geto pulls back all too soon for your liking, putting some distance between the two of you, head cocking to the side as he looks you over, “Curiosity satisfied.”

“Is that really how you would want to kiss me?”

“What?”

At his question you’re suddenly all too aware how bold yours was, “I just… It’s nothing, sorry.” Fumbling over yourself, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “It was nice! It was a nice kiss.”

“No, no,” he squints at you, “Go on… say what you want.”

It’s quiet for a moment, your hesitance clear, “…Did you… kiss me how you wanted to?”

“I think if I kissed you how I wanted,” pausing to lean in closer, “You might pass out or something.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not my first kiss or anything,” you roll your eyes at him and his ego, “I was just curious, if that’s really how you’d kiss me then that’s all there is to it, it was a nice kiss,” you shrug at him.

“Why am I starting to feel like I’m being assessed?”

“If you feel that way then that’s on you.” Trying so hard to play it cool, like you can’t tell he was holding back, like you don’t want him to kiss you more, “Do you wanna go back in the movie? To where we were before?”

As you get up to move off the couch and find the remote, Suguru is pulling you back down to him, one hand gently holding the front of your throat. You don’t get a second to think about all the movements he just made, his lips on yours, rushed, like he’s suddenly, incredibly desperate to kiss you.

Barely able to keep up with him, head dizzy from the whiplash, this isn’t at all how he kissed you before. You’re basically panting against him when he does pull back, allowing you the small moment to catch your breath.

His thumb pulls down on your chin lightly, “Open your mouth more,” his eyes are lidded as he looks at you, tone deeper than before.

Obeying him wordlessly and then he’s kissing you again, tongue in your mouth. It’s all messy and rushed and has you losing your mind. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he pulls your body closer to his, hand moving to the back of your head.

When he sucks your tongue into his mouth and licks at you, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you. Swallowed down by Geto in an appreciative manner, his kiss lingers for a while longer, making you dizzy and thoughtless. He pulls back from you, connected by a string of saliva that snaps when he licks at his lower lip.

The look on your face is dumbstruck, eyes big and wet as you gaze up at him in a dazed manner. It makes him feel feral, not able to help the way he leans back in and presses more short, sloppy kisses to your swollen lips.

There’s a pause before you can regain your faculties enough to say anything to him and even then, the only thing you can manage is, “I… uhm…”

“Was that better?” He’s trying to be light-hearted about it, but his lips are swollen as well, and his eyes are lidded, and he looks… “You didn’t pass out did you?” His head lowers so his eyes catch yours.

Your brain feels fuzzy and all you can think about it how you’ve never been kissed like that before, that you want to keep being kissed like that, “What? No… I just… wow.”

“Live up to your expectations?”

“I didn’t really have any, I was only curious…” Smiling big at him, you add, “But yeah, maybe even exceeded them.”

“You aiming to boost my ego, or did I really kiss you stupid?” He can’t help the way he leans in again, just shy of your lips.

Mouth on yours before you get to answer or refute what he’s accused, you don’t stop him though, allowing him to kiss you fully, deeply. One of his hands on the side of your face, holding you, the other grips at your hip, almost tugging you in closer.

Before you lose focus again, you part to gasp out, “I don’t know if–” interrupted by his lips on yours, hand tangling into his hair to pull him back, he groans at the force of the tug, “Suguru, I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep–”

“–Just another kiss, one more…” breathless in how he asks, mouth hot on yours, tongue already in your mouth.

It’s almost too much, he’s so insistent, he’s kissing you like he might never get to again, like he’s trying to get the most out of this. He might actually have you passing out, it’s not even as if you really want him to stop but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?

Pulling back, he sucks on your lower lip before nipping at it, the whimper he pulls from you is embarrassing and weak and you’re facing an internal conflict of so many emotions right now but mostly you’re struck by how badly you want to sleep with him.

You hadn’t realised his hand had snuck under your shirt, warm and large against your side, sending a shiver down your spine. The breathlessness you’re hit with has your skin feeling hot as you try to stumble out your words, “I, uh, think we should stop… here.”

“Why? Am I not a good kisser? Are you not enjoying yourself?” A smile creeps onto his face, “You sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t.” Your head tucks down and onto his chest, forehead leaning against him, “Please don’t embarrass me.”

He wraps his arms around your body, embracing you, “Can’t help it.”

You stay like this for probably longer than you should, enjoying the moment too much for someone who’s about to go back to being just his friend.

Geto breaks the silence first, speaking into the top of your head, “Is your curiosity satisfied or are you going to start kicking me again?”

“I can’t promise I’ll never kick you again but yeah… I’m satisfied.”

He laughs against you, “Alright, well, if you’re ever curious again… you know where to find me.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It’s been about a week since you crossed a line you probably shouldn’t have in your friendship with Geto, and like the incredibly brave individual you are… you have been ignoring him.

Not on purpose though, you intend on replying to all his messages… but then you get nervous and freak yourself out and stop short of sending anything back. From his messages, you can tell he’s getting increasingly more worried… or maybe frustrated… you’re not sure, there is only so much you can infer over text.

Maybe you should reply, looking at his last message that reads, ‘seriously? answer me. today.’ Oh yeah… he’s annoyed, you have no idea how to reply to him, maybe something simple? Or maybe a long paragraph overexplaining yourself… or maybe–

Your phone screen changes to Shoko’s caller ID, saved by the metaphorical bell, “Hey! What’s up?”

She sounds a bit short when she answers you, “Are you coming tonight?”

“Tonight…” You trail off, completely blanking on what the hell she’s talking about.

Her reply coming incredibly deadpan and disappointed, “You forgot.”

“No noo, I would never forget about…” The rest of your sentence dropping off, silence falling over the line.

She fills in the gaps for you, “The stupid party that’s being thrown by our stupid friends to celebrate the stupid event that is a boring, normal, Friday night.”

She already sounds over it and you’re pretty sure she would’ve only just got there, “Okay, well… I now feel significantly better about the fact that I actually had forgotten what tonight was.”

“Yeah well I wish I had forgotten too because this is boring without you.”

“Didn’t you only just get there?”

“I feel like that’s beside the point,” you can feel her eyeroll through the phone, “So, when are you getting here?”

Sighing as you ask, “Do I really have to come?”

Not missing a single beat when she shoots back, “I’m here which means yes, you do.”

You go quiet for a moment, “…Will Suguru be there?”

“You’re more likely to know than me,” she sounds confused, “Listen, I don’t know what happened but surely you don’t think you can avoid him forever.”

“Not forever… just tonight,” you really don’t feel like running into him in person, not when you can barely get your head on straight long enough to message him back.

“I haven’t seen him, and he didn’t sound all that interested when this was first planned so I doubt he will show up.”

“You’re not just lying to get me there, are you?”

“Of course not,” it’s always been hard to tell when she’s joking but you’re pretty sure Suguru isn’t there, if you had been replying to him, you probably would’ve ended up hanging out together tonight just to avoid that pointless party.

Deciding to take the risk, you acquiesce, “Alright, I’ll be there soon, just give me a bit to put on something that isn’t pyjamas.”

Getting out of the apartment will be good for you, that and you’ll have the chance to catch up with Shoko, it’s been a while since you last hung out.

“Just come in your pyjamas.”

“Okay, now you’re being unreasonable,” you chuckle.

She groans through the phone, “Gojo and I just made eye contact, that’s like asking to be trapped in a conversation for at least an hour.”

You smile at her and her exaggeration, “That’s really funny, tell him I said hi.”

“Don’t hang up on me–”

The line goes dead as you hang up on her.

Nearly an hour has passed by the time you get to the party, but when you make eye contact with Shoko across the room – still stuck in conversation with Gojo – it looks like a century has passed for her.

Walking up to them both, you grab Gojo by the sides of his arms and shake him, making a loud noise to scare him as you do. He just about dies then and there, head whipping around to see it’s just you and gripping a hand over his chest.

He’s a little breathless when he scolds you, “You scared the fuck outta me, what the hell?”

“I thought it would be funny,” you smile bright at him, out the corner of your eye seeing Shoko fighting a smile and hiding it behind her drink.

“It wasn’t,” he half pouts.

“It kinda was,” Shoko interjects.

He just continues to pout over how badly you got him.

“Hi Satoru,” you chirp at him, trying to be as sweet as possible for scaring the living daylights out of him.

“Yes, hello,” he fights a smile when greeting you back, and then his face twists as if suddenly remembering something, “Hey! What happened with you and Suguru?”

Taken aback by his abruptness, “What?”

Staring intently at you, seemingly desperate to know your business, “I know something happened, you gotta tell me what.”

Honestly, you would’ve thought Geto would’ve told him by now, seeing as how they’re sort of attached at the hip, “He hasn’t told you?”

“He’s insistent that nothing is wrong.”

“Then nothing’s wrong.”

“I know something is wrong and I also know you’re dodging him because he made me text you to see if you’d reply and you replied within the same minute,” he squints at you accusatorily.

Arms crossing over your chest as you size him up, “You sent me a photo of the cat that hangs out in your neighbourhood as bait? That’s messed up Satoru.”

“I was investigating,” he defends.

“No, you were being nosy, just like you are now.” Something occurs to you very suddenly, “Wait, if you’re here… and I’m here… where is Suguru?”

“Here, obviously,” he shrugs.

Turning, you glare at Shoko who raises her hands in defence, “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t lie, I really haven’t seen him. I’ve been trapped in conversation with this idiot the whole time.”

“Trapped? That’s so mean Shoko,” Gojo plays up his hurt, sulking and giving her the saddest eyes he can muster. It unsurprisingly has no effect on her.

He’s here somewhere, you need to leave before he sees you. You’re so annoyed at yourself for not connecting that Gojo being here obviously meant Geto was going to be here too, especially since he wasn’t with you.

Spinning, you go for the front door you came through not that long ago, getting it open a crack before a hand above your head closes it. Turning around, you come face to face with Suguru, a very annoyed Suguru. Polite smile painted on his face but his eyebrow twitches slightly.

His weight supported by his hand on the door, leaning down to you, “And where are you going?”

“I was just gonna… head home… get an early night?” Looking away from him as you lie poorly, not able to look at him without thinking about how he kissed you.

He points out, “You just got here though.”

“Yeah, it’s just… not my scene…” In your defence, not a complete lie.

“Really? Because it feels like you’re avoiding me.” He leans down to catch your eyes with his, sick of you avoiding eye contact.

You’re only able to look at him incrementally, eyes flicking from his, to the wall behind him, “No there’s no reason for me to be avoiding you, I don’t know why you would think that.”

“Oh good! That means you can stay then,” face scrunching with his – now – less than polite smile. Clearly growing frustrated with how you’re refusing to communicate with him properly.

You have no excuses to give, nothing good or even remotely believable anyways, “I uhh–”

Cutting you off to give an ultimatum, “–Either we’re leaving and talking like adults or you’re staying right here and suffering through this whole night with me right by your side.”

His choice in wording disgruntles you, locking eyes to say, “It doesn’t cause me suffering to be beside you, Suguru,” you want to make at least that much clear.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile, “Good. Then you won’t mind me not leaving your side.”

Weighing your options, you don’t know what would be better right now. On the one hand you’d get to leave but then you’d have to tell him about how much you’re affected by the line you crossed, about how you’re developing feelings for him that you shouldn’t have indulged in. On the other, you stay but he lingers around you all night and you’re left haunted by all the things you want to say but can’t quite bring yourself to.

“Let’s go back to everyone then,” you smile back at him.

His face drops, “You don’t wanna talk about it that bad?”

“Suguru, you’re looking for answers I don’t even know if I can give you.”

He relents and takes a step back from you, “Fine. But just so you know, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Waiting for you to want to talk first seems to be his main goal but you can see just how impatient he’s getting.

You ignore his comment and walk past him back to Gojo and Shoko in the other room, they’re both exactly where you left them. It’s awkward, for you anyways, you don’t know about them or everyone else here, but you feel awkward.

It carries on for the whole night, it’s been a couple hours now and Suguru is still just following you around wordlessly. Only speaking to others when spoken too, engaging in some conversation, only to cut it short when you move on.

This really isn’t fun for you, normally not even bothering to come to house parties like this and only doing this as a favour to Shoko but she’s gone home now, and you’re left here with just Geto. You’d leave too, but you have a feeling Geto is going to follow you home, or at the very least make you talk to him before you try leaving and you’re just… so not in the mood.

Sighing softly to yourself as you walk into the kitchen, somehow managing to shake your tail, for now. Taking the small reprieve as a chance to breathe and think, which is cut short when some stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Hi! You’re really hot, do you want a drink? I can make you a drink. I’ve never seen you here before and trust me – I’d remember you.” He’s slurring his words slightly, “So, drink? You wan– I can get you a–”

He’s really forward, and drunk, it’s making you uncomfortable, especially since you’re far to sober and far too annoyed to have to deal with drunk men. “–I’m good, thank you, I’m not drinking.”

“Oh, come on! Jus one drink, it’ll loosen you up,” he moves in to elbow your shoulder lightly, “You’re too hot to be– to be such a downer, maybe a smile would help.”

Completely unamused and slowly shuffling back away from him, “I think I’d prefer you just leave me alone; I’m not interested.”

“Don– don’t be like that,” he sulks at you.

Your back collides with someone’s front and looking up you can see it’s your missing stalker of the night. As annoyed at Geto as you are, you are endlessly thankful for his timing, physically feeling yourself relax now that he’s here.

Geto glares down at the pushy guy, “She’s not interested.”

“Oh man, I didn’t know she had– had a boyfriend, you know you should keep an eye on her,” the drunk idiot leers at you, “She’s kind of a tease, leading me on,” he shrugs.

Your face grimaces at his words and the way he eyes you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Suguru moves in front of you, shielding you from him, his lip twitches at this guy’s words, “Excuse me?”

“No, well… I jus mean she didn’t tell me–”

“–She said she wasn’t interested, that was enough,” Geto’s tone is growing more irritated by the moment.

“Suguru, let’s just go, it’s fine,” you tug on the hem of his jacket, not really wanting to have to deal with the fallout of whatever may happen if this idiot keeps unwittingly provoking Geto. He tries his best, but he has a breaking point, and he tends to hit it pretty quick when you’re involved.

He glances back at you, “It’s not fine.”

“Okay, it’s not but I kinda can’t stand this guy and this party sucks and I’m annoyed, and I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you feel a little pathetic for whinging but you’re so drained and this guy was your breaking point.

All his attention drops from that guy to you, his hands coming up to either side of your face, taking in how tired you look. Thumbs stroking high on your cheekbones, “Alright, let’s leave.”

Relief in your bones at the fact you’re about to be gone from here, “Thank you.”

From behind Geto you can see the drunk take the opportunity to slip away, apparently smart enough to use this distraction to his advantage. If Geto notices, he doesn’t say anything, clearly done with him, all attention on you now.

He hums at you, asking, “How’d you get here?”

Your eyes flick back to his, “I didn’t drive, if that’s what you’re asking,” you took an uber, you thought you’d either catch a ride with Shoko, or you’d take another uber home.

“You’re riding with me then.” His large hand takes yours, “Come on,” he’s tugging you through the house behind him.

The car ride has been quiet, you can feel your head drooping and your eyes closing, very nearly falling asleep. That is until, you notice Geto isn’t taking you to your house, instead heading towards his.

Turning to face him, you ask, “Why are we going back to yours?”

Without turning to look at you, he replies, “Because you’ve been avoiding me, so I am now forcing you to spend time with me.”

He’s decidedly not funny. Sighing as you try to chide him, “Suguru–”

Finally glancing your way only to speak over you, “–Don’t ‘Suguru’ me, my place is closer and you’re tired, if you weren’t being so weird around me ever since I k–”

“–Shhh, be quiet.” Your cheeks suddenly feel warm at the memory of how insistent his kisses were.

“All I’m saying is, if you weren’t being so weird around me, you’d come back to mine tonight anyways.”

It’s frustrating to you that he’s right, you normally would just go back to his and crash in his bed and then you’d make him breakfast the next morning to make up for the fact that you’d taken up his whole bed.

The only thing you can think to say is a flat, “…Fine.” Crossing your arms and looking out the car window the rest of the short drive.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Back at his apartment, he lends you some clothes to sleep in. It’s all incredibly intimate, showering in his bathroom, using the spare toothbrush you keep here, wearing his clothes, has your friendship always been this intimate or are you just looking at it in a new light.

Leaving his bathroom, you find him in his room, getting his bed ready for you to sleep in, you stand awkwardly at the foot of it, “I’ll just sleep on your couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you always sleep in the bed with me.”

“Yeah but…” Your brows settle into a deep frown, “Do you not feel weird?”

He drops the blanket back onto the bed, exasperation with you clear, “I said to you – I wouldn’t let it affect our friendship, and that’s what I’m doing.” Turning to look at you before adding, “You’re the one making it weird.”

“I know that…” You also know that you were the one who said you weren’t worried about him.

His arms are crossed as he looks you over, “I’m gonna shower now, you don’t have to sleep in the bed, but I think you should, you know firsthand how awful that couch is.”

“Go have your shower,” you shoo him out of the room, standing in the middle of it, alone, considering what you should do.

The couch really is atrocious, it’s part of the reason why you started sleeping in his bed when you visited. He always says he’ll get a nicer couch or a blow-up mattress for you, but he never does, and you always end up in his bed anyways.

Deciding you’re too drained to think any harder about all of this, you crawl into his bed and make yourself comfortable. Everything is so frustrating to you right now, have you always felt this confused about your friendship or were the lines blurred for so long that you’re having trouble understanding where you both stand.

The irony of the situation is annoying and almost laughable because if it were about anyone else you’d be hitting up Geto and asking for his advice on it all.

When he comes back into the room, he shuffles around a bit before turning off the lights and getting into bed beside you. You’re lying on your side with your back to him, pretending to already be asleep.

His voice cuts through the quiet of the room, “I miss you.”

Your reaction to it is almost visceral, how are you meant to reply to that. It doesn’t help you feel better at all, only leaving you longing for something you don’t know if you’re allowed to claim.

Your friendship has always been on a precarious ledge but it’s only now that you let yourself acknowledge the disgusting depth of your feelings for him.

You mumble into the pillow, “I’m right here.”

“Then why do you feel so far away?”

Readjusting, you rotate so you’re facing him, not completely prepared for him to already be facing you. Propped up on his elbow, closer than your poor heart was ready for. You lower your head, so you don’t have to look at his face, “I wasn’t purposefully ignoring you, I really did want to reply.”

He pushes, “So why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what to say…”

“What can I do to help?” He lowers himself down to your level, head on his bicep.

You still avoid his gaze, “Nothing, you can’t do anything.”

“You’re being–”

“–You are the problem, Suguru, there is nothing you can do to help but get out of my head,” you meet his eyes, frown prominent on your face, “You and your stupid kiss, you made it all a thousand times worse for me.”

“Making out with me was so life changing that you can’t get it out of your head, and you’re annoyed at me for that? You’re the one who wanted to know what it was like.” He’s trying to keep his tone light-hearted but he’s struggling, seemingly growing more irritated by it all.

You grumble at him, discontent, “You don’t need to point out the obvious, stupid.”

A noise of disagreement comes from him, “Well, I feel like I kinda do, since you’re overreacting.”

“I am not overreacting.”

“You are though.”

“No because it’s not just…” you stop short, “…Whatever, I’m going to sleep so be quiet.” He smiles at you like you’re completely endearing, which only frustrates you further.

“The only reason you would be this annoyed is because you want to kiss me again, or more…” his hand reaches for your chin and tilts your head up towards him, “You tell me, are you still curious?”

“Shut up,” you huff out, going to move away only for his hand to slide to your cheek, holding you still.

“You haven’t asked me, you know.”

“What?”

“What if I want to kiss you again? What if I want to do more?” His forehead rests against yours, “You’ve been so caught up in your own head, acting like an idiot over this, that you’ve not even asked yourself about what I want.”

“I am not an idiot.”

“No, but you’ve certainly been acting like one.” His hand slides from your face, down the side of your body, landing on your hip. “At first I thought it was cute, the curiosity, the unawareness,” his hand tugs you in closer to him, body against yours. “But now… now I’m growing impatient.”

Your head feels fuzzy, pressed up against him and that seems to be the only thing your brain is processing right now, “I’m confused.”

“It’s really quite simple,” he leans in, lips ghosting against yours.

You want so badly to kiss him, breath catching in your chest at the way his lips tickle against yours. Your attention solely on the way he might kiss you.

“You like me, and while it’s endearing to watch you fumble your way through the realisation, it’s killing me to know you’re all caught up on how I kissed you and not even being able to get in contact with you.”

“What? What?” Your brain takes a second to catch up, “I do not– you can’t know– just– what?”

“I can know, you know how? Because you’re painfully obvious about it. So honest, telling me about how you’re thinking of me, not able to look at me without looking at my lips,” a light laugh leaves him at your expression, “And it’s sweet, really. But I’m getting annoyed by the fact that you’re so obsessed with your own feelings that you’ve failed to consider mine.”

He’s giving you so much whiplash right now, “You–”

“–You think I kissed you like that just ‘cause?” He frowns at you, “I kissed you like that because I wanted to, I feel I was a little obvious about it all actually.”

“I’ve been so worried about ruining our friendship,” you feel so pathetic when you say it.

“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “But I’ve hoped for nothing more.” He sighs, “I wanted you to come to me on your own, to talk to me about it but instead you hid from me.”

“What was I supposed to think? Through my eyes, I was stupid and asked you to kiss me just because I was thinking about it, only to not stop thinking about it, and then realise I like you, my friend.” You pull back from him slightly, “How was I meant to talk to you about it?”

“You think I’d kiss just any friend because they simply wondered about what it would be like?” his brow lifts at you, “Don’t you think our friendship has always been a little too intimate to just be a friendship?”

“Nothing was ever said… how was I supposed to know?”

“Okay, well, let me be perfectly clear,” he tugs you in close again, eyes meeting yours, like he’s going to say something incredibly important, only to plant his lips on yours in a full kiss.

Hand holding you to him tight, like he needs you to stay pressed up against him. His mouth on yours hot and consuming, kiss messy, tongue licking at yours. An involuntary moan gets caught in your chest and your hand moves to his hair, tangling in it.

Parting to pant out, “I like you–” kissing you again, “I like kissing you–” lips desperate against yours, “I want to do so much more–” he never parts from you long at all, barley willing to but needing to get his words out.

This is a feeling that you’re never going to be able to forget, the first time he kissed you overwhelming enough and now it’s like he’s completely following his instinct. No critical thinking happening in his head or yours. All your thoughts wash away from you, slipping through your fingers before it even occurs to you to form a thought.

Less scared now, throwing caution to the wind, not worrying about how you should stop, how you can’t ruin the fragility of your friendship. It doesn’t matter anymore, not when he already knows how you feel, not when he seems to feel the same, not when it feels this good.

He mumbles against you, “That clear enough?”

“No,” you huff back, “I think… I’m still a little confused.”

“Well, in that case,” he smirks before kissing you again.

Hand moving to your thigh, sliding it across your skin before grabbing at your knee and crooking your leg to rest on his hip. Leaning into you slightly, using his weight to push back on you, rolling the pair of you until he’s on top. Forearm holding himself over you, other hand still on your knee, holding you flush to him.

You gasp up at him when his erection ruts into your core, lips parting messily, spit connecting the two of you. A shudder runs down his spine when he looks down at you, at how you’re looking up at him. All big, wet eyes and kiss swollen lips, it’s like he feels all his insides softening for you in that moment, in the most sickeningly affectionate way.

His eyes suddenly look lost, and you don’t know why, going to say something only for his lips to land on yours again. Short, firm kisses planted on your lips over and over again, barely able to return them before he’s pulling back, just to do it again.

It’s sweet but it’s frustrating you, your hands are eventually grabbing at either side of his face and forcing his mouth onto yours, lips meshing together, kissing him fully. Tongue in his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers playing with his hair. He moans at how you’rekissing him, at how both your legs are now wrapped around his waist.

Practically clinging to him, lips locked to his, your need making your body hot and head fuzzy. You’re trying so hard to not come across desperate for him, but you really can’t help the way your hips seek out his, grinding up into him.

His voice shakes with a moan, breaking the kiss, “–Ohh fuck – hah –” a breathless kind of laugh leaving him, "A little eager, aren’t you?"

"Should we stop then?” You ask with a smile, hands untangling and pushing at his shoulders.

He rushes out, “No no, I didn’t say that,” he pulls your arms, so they’re wrapped around his neck again, “Come back,” a light laugh leaves him, pressing kisses all over your face, lingering on your lips.

“So… you don’t want to stop?”

“Absolutely not, be as needy as you want,” he looks down between where his hips are resting against yours, his cock twitching in his pants, “Hell… be needier.”

“I don’t know… maybe this is all happening too fast,” you say it light heartedly, teasing him, “I mean… we are just friends.”

“Just friends?” He takes personal issue with that, even if he can tell you’re goading him, “Just friends but you’re grinding your pussy all over me?” His hand slips into the front of your borrowed sleep shorts, two fingers rubbing between your folds over your panties.

Gasp leaving you, chest stuttering, “S-Suguru, I–”

“Letting your friend touch you like this, hmm?” He pulls your panties to the side, “Fuck– this wet for your friend?”

Your back arches against the bed when his fingers slip over your clit, struggling to get your words out, “I– mmph– I get it, m’sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He smiles sweetly at you but two of his fingers are slipping inside you, quirking up and rubbing at just the right spot.

God, your eyes roll into the back of your head, cunt pulsing around his fingers so needily. Hands grabbing at him, tangling in his long hair, gasping for air you don’t really need but feeling like you can’t breathe from how he’s touching you.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” He wants you back on track, he wants to hear you stumble out your apology to him.

“I-I’m sorry – hnnn – f-for…” your mouth drops open in a moan when his thumb rubs at your clit, “You’re not jus– you’re not just my friend – oh! You’re more– you mean more– Ah! Ah!” You can’t think, not when he adds another finger to your pussy, stretching you so open.

He leans in, fingers not stopping, “You mean it?”

It’s a question made to tease you but with your gooey brain, you look up at him so earnestly and answer, “Mhm, yeah.” Nodding your head firmly at him, even when your eyes look so fucked out.

Soft squelching noises fill the room with how his fingers fuck into you, your cunt clamping tight down around them. Walls so hot and wet that it’s driving him crazy, imagining how it would feel to have you wrapped so snug around his neglected cock.

He wants so badly to rip off your pants, so he can see just how well you’re taking his fingers but you’re pulsing so rhythmically around him, and your eyes roll with how good you feel, making the nicest expressions for him that he can’t even tear his eyes away from your face if he wanted to.

“Oh, you’re really cute right now,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his heart stammering at how your wet eyes sparkle at him, at how your bottom lip wobbles.

Pouting up at him, “You don’t– ah! think– think I’m cute all the time?”

“I think you’re downright adorable all the time,” he laughs airily, “But especially right now,” he’s gazing so intently at your face, “Because, I’m pretty sure…” his thumb speeds up on your clit, “…You’re about to cum all over my fingers.”

Oh, how his words effect you so deeply, his tone, the cockiness and if he weren’t touching you so right you wouldn’t find it as arousing as you do but you feel like you could cry from just how overwhelming it all is.

Shaking your head at him as if to say ‘no, you’re not about to cum.’

“No?” He pouts at you mockingly, “You sure?”

Denying it really doesn’t get you anywhere, especially since he can feel how you tighten around his fingers, how your gooey cunt pulses for him. Your back arching meanly, legs wanting so badly to kick against the air. Hand tugging at his hair as you gasp, broken moans leaving you.

“I mustn’t be doing this right then,” he hums at you in thought, slowing his movements slightly, “Should I stop then? Change up what I’m doing?”

The thought of him stopping now, or changing what he’s doing kills you, almost literally. Your eyes widen and you shake your head vehemently at him, “Don’t stop– hnn– don’t– please,” begging him with your eyes.

“Only ‘cause you begged so nicely,” his tone so sweet on you.

He doesn’t change anything, keeps fucking you with his fingers in the way that’s driving you crazy. His mouth waters at how your pussy gushes for him, dick leaking into his pants, losing his fucking mind at how he’s able to finally touch you like this, how you’re letting him touch you like this, even begging for it.

Muscles pulling taut, hearing and sight going fuzzy, “I– ohh– Sugu I can’t– I’m gonna–”

“You can,” dragging it out in a singsong, “Doing so well for me, pretty.”

Biting on your lip to hold back all the moans tumbling from them, hands pulling at him as you struggle to breathe through it. Chest stuttering as your cunt clamps down around his fingers, pulling him closer to you and planting your lips on his, desperately kissing him as you cum all over his fingers. Tongue licking into his mouth, his own moans spilling into the kiss.

Panting against your open mouth to say, “Just came all over your friends’ fingers,” his smile taunting and bright.

Your head lolls to the side, “So you really do just like teasing me, huh?”

“Pretty sure I said I couldn’t help it,” his fingers slip from your core, sucking them into his mouth, licking them clean in a display so obscene that your skin feels warm.

If he were a lesser man, he’d cum from licking himself clean, groaning around his fingers, mostly for himself but also somewhat to embarrass you. Loving how you squirm, and your face pulls up in embarrassment. All dazed and stupid looking from your orgasm, it makes his heart skip and his dick jerk.

You shock him when you tug your shirt up and over your head, moving to pull at his but he’s too distracted by your tits to make any move other than to lean down and press wet kisses all over your chest.

“Suguru– hah– your shirt,” your fingers still pull at the fabric.

“You can’t–” he sucks and licks at your nipple, relishing in the reactions and sounds he’s pulling from you, “–You can’t show me your tits and expect me to not touch them.”

When he looks up at you, his eyes are lazy and dazed, his tongue drooling all over your boobs. Moving to plant more firm and wet kisses all over your unbelievably soft skin, sucking to leave behind his mark. Wanting to leave behind marks that he will see when he wakes up tomorrow, marks that he will leave marks over so that they never go away, so he will always have evidence of how he touched you. Of how you let him touch you.

Groping at all your exposed skin, pulling at you, fingers tugging at your nipple, while he salivates all over the other one. Your legs tug his hips down into yours, rubbing your clothed cunt all over him, wanting him to fuck you so badly. He’s working you up so unfairly, already making you cum and then playing with your tits in a way that has you itching to be full of his dick.

“Suguru,” he ruts his hips back down into you but doesn’t remove his mouth from you, so you pull at his hair harshly, “Please.”

He moans at how you pull at him, eyes lidded, “So demanding.”

“You’re taking too long.”

He tuts at you, nipping lightly at the skin between your tits, “You’re just impatient.”

“Yeah, I am,” untangling your legs from him, you shuffle your shorts and panties down and off your body, “Are you going to help?”

“How can I refuse when you ask like that?” The desire to lick at your pussy, make out with your cunt, is huge but with how you look at him, so needy and impatient, he needs to shove his dick in you. Now.

When you go to tug at his shirt, he lets you, letting you pull it off him completely, goose bumps breaking out across his skin with how you rake your nails delicately over him. The affection he holds for you feels like it grows tenfold at how you look at him, how tenderly you touch him.

“You’re so pretty,” you’re mumbling it out at him before you’re really registering that you’ve thought it, let alone spoke it.

His head drops into the crook of your neck, “So sweet on me, got me forgetting why I waited so long to say anything.”

You grin at him, “Because you’re stupid.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he sneers back at you before shuffling back to pull his pants off. Finding immense joy in how your smug little smile drops from your face when his cock is free, tip flushed a pretty pink and leaking profusely, precum dribbling down the sides of his dick.

Moving to get up before even really thinking about it, wanting to touch him. Only to fall into the pillows when his large hand pushes you back by your sternum. Looking to him just as he leans in, lips brushing yours so softly you’d think you’d imagined it if he didn’t immediately follow it up with a firm kiss.

“I want to touch you,” hands already finding their way back to his shoulders, his long hair tickling against skin.

His head is dipping low to watch how he moves his hands down your body, brushing against your inner thighs, opening your legs for him more, “Well, I want to fuck you.” He’s not capable of taking his eyes off your gooey cunt, so wet for him.

Goading him with your words, “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation?”

“Sharp tongue for someone so sensitive,” he muses, fingers slipping through your folds, gently over your clit to make you jolt, as if to prove his point.

Not giving you a chance to say another snarky comment, his fingers dipping into your hole again, fingers stretching you open obscenely, pulling back covered in cum from your previous orgasm and fresh slick. It’s almost embarrassing how soaked you are, at least it would be if he didn’t seem almost overjoyed at the sight.

His hand covered in your mess moves to his dick, stroking himself, lubing himself so you can take him easier. Wanting to rub your thighs together, to squirm at how he languidly pumps at his cock, how his brows upturn and his mouth gapes slightly.

Palm warm against your inner thigh, holding you still, moving so he can tap his dick against your clit, smiling at how your body jerks.

“Don’t be a tease,” your hand moves for his, but he grabs at you before you reach him, looping his fingers with yours.

His tone is cheerful and bright, “But you look so cute when you’re frustrated.”

“I’ll leave,” you threaten, not even a little convincingly, way too horny to be taken seriously.

“Really?” He raises a brow at you, intrigued, “I don’t think you’d get very far,” mocking pout settling on his features.

Nothing if not stubborn and true to your word, you push him back and roll to get out of the bed defiantly. Barely making it to the edge of the mattress when his hands are on your sides and manhandling you back into your previous position. Spreading your legs wide and rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds, just dipping into your hole before repeating the previous movements.

Biting his lower lip as he watches, his precum smearing all over your messy cunt, “Told you, you wouldn’t get very far.”

Your head rolls at how he dips his dick in more, beginning to stretch you open, his hips stuttering forwards, hand slapping down onto the bed beside you to stop himself from pushing you too far.

“Oh– oh– fuck! How– h-how are you this tight, oh,” breathless not even beginning to describe how fucked out he already sounds.

“M-more, Sugu, please– I–”

At your insistence, he fucks himself all the way in, holding his hips to yours as he fills you to the hilt. Your pussy spasming and creaming around him, so worked up that he can feel just how aroused you are in the way you twitch, at how your fingers grab at his skin, how your breath is uneven and broken.

He can’t help but marvel at how you let out little squealed moans, how your cunt stretches to take all of him. On cloud nine at how you’re so horny over how heavy he’s sitting inside you that you’re close to tears.

The moan he lets out is debauched, unbelievably turned on when your hips struggle to grind down into him needily, working yourself up to an orgasm so fucking fast that he can’t do anything but watch in awe.

You can’t stop yourself, you know you should, should slow down and maybe calm down but it feels so good. He’s so big inside you, his cock pulsing in a way that has you memorising the thumping rhythm. Not usually so eager, never this eager, enthusiastically rutting down into him over and over again before suddenly cumming all over him.

Choked and gasped moans pulled from you as your hands reach for him, hoping for him to let you tug him down into you but he’s too busy watching how you pulse and cum all over him. Obsessed with how your cute, little cunt struggles with his size as you coat him in all your creamy cum.

“Holy fuck,” he laughs, “That was–”

Head dizzy and eyes lazy as you whinge at him, “–Don’t– don’t say anything.”

“You came as soon as I got inside you and you expect me to make no comment?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it was adorable,” he hums, voice strained, much more effected by it than he’s willing to let on.

You whine when he leans down into you, cock somehow reaching deeper. Geto’s arms cage you in either side your head, resting on his forearms, his lips against yours in a breathless kiss. Beginning shallow thrusts, his lips insistent on yours, fucking you so carefully for now.

Quickly, the need to have him fucking you stupid grows within you again and your legs loop around him properly, pulling him into you, wrapping yourself around him, mouth panting against his.

“Fuck– hah– you’re so wet,” he’s fucking into you faster, hips becoming desperate, “It’s actually– it’s– hnn– it’s crazy how good you feel,” he moves his head to the crook of your neck, growling beside your ear, “such a soaked little cunt, taking it so– ohh– taking it so good.”

“Ah! Ah! Sugu, it’s– ohh– it’s– more– I need more,” your fingers dig into his back, depraved wet sloshing sounds of him fucking into you so well fill the room.

He nips at your neck, “Demanding little thing aren’t you?”

He’s pulling out of you and the moan you let out is small and pathetic, disgruntled by his abrupt movement. The last thing you see is his smug grin before he’s flipping you over onto your stomach, hands pulling your hips up and pushing on your upper back, manoeuvring your body into an obscene arch.

Taking his sweet time to slip back inside, eyeing up your pussy and how your hole trembles and drools for him. Your hips wriggle back at him and he finds himself incredibly amused at how blatantly needy you are, apparently honest with him in more ways than one.

Just as you were about to turn around and complain at how long he’s taking to re-enter you, he’s shoving his cock back in all at once, jolting your body up the bed and forcing a moan out from your lungs.

“Ohh– Sugu– I…” you trail off as his hips pick up, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Sliding your legs further apart to take more of him inside, arching yourself even more, greedy cunt sucking him deep inside. He’s barely able to withdraw before you’re fucking your hips back into him, desperately driving back, so fucking needy that if you had half your mind you’d be embarrassed but right now all you can think about is how his dick thumps against your walls, how his hands grip onto you tight, probably leaving behind marks to match the ones he left all over your tits.

Mouth gaping open, spit pooling onto the pillow below, drooling over his cock, God, you could cry from just how fucking good it feels. Pussy spasming wildly around him, the more you think about the fact that he’s fucking you, the more worked up you get. Insides flipping at how he seems to touch the most perfect spots inside you, full of butterflies and him.

His mouth by your ear shocks you, his voice chirpy, “What are you – hah – thinking about, pretty?”

“A-about how goo– good it feels, feels– ohh– feels so good, Sugu,” your words are slurred, mind reeling at how he doesn’t even seem to slow his pace.

“Flatterer,” he barks out a laugh, “You’re quite the little charmer,” he mockingly compliments, tongue licking meanly at your salty tears that you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Shh– shut up– ah!” gasping when he gives a particularly mean thrust into you.

He can’t help but smile at the fucked out look you’re wearing, eyes rolled back, dazed and not comprehending anything other than his dick rubbing up against your walls so perfectly. Your face turns into the pillow and you bite at it, muscles pulling tight as another orgasm crawls up your spine.

It shocks you, how quickly you cum, Suguru’s harsh thrusts, your ass burning with the smack of his pelvis against you. The sting biting at your flesh making you feel like you’re on fire, cunt tight around him and orgasm overcoming you so fast that you don’t have time to prepare for it.

And maybe if he hadn’t been caught up in how deliciously you squeeze around him, he’d have time to realise you were coming again and he could stop himself but when you shock the both of you with your sudden orgasm he whines into your back and cums deep inside you. Shivers running down his spine at how it feels, dumping so much deep inside you that the force of his continued thrusts has some of it leaking from you back onto him and down onto the bed, making the obscenest mess he’s ever seen.

Immediately he’s pulling himself back up to see how he’s coated your walls white, his dick covered in your shared cum, creamy and lewd and he’s not even going soft because how could he when you’re still wrapped so warmly around him and when you’re so fucking gooey and snug. He might die before he’s done fucking you yet and he can’t even find it in himself to care even a little bit.

You’re not capable of forming words together enough to think of making a sentence, only thing coming from you being your garbled, choked moans and the sounds of your plushy cunt struggling to take him and all his cum. Pussy bulging with the weight of his cock and the mass amounts of seed he’s just pumped you full of.

His own eyes are lidded and low, pussy drunk and loving every second of it, “So turned on you couldn’t even warn me before you came,” he bites out.

His hand rounds your body and his fingers land on your clit, the overstimulation too much, one of your own hands moving down to try and pry it away, managing to squeak out, “T-too much– ah! Too much, Sugu.”

Tone light when his harsh words are mumbled back at you, “If it’s too much, then why – hnn – why are you fucking back onto me like such a slut?”

He’s so mean, so mean to you while he fucks you so… meanly. Head whirling over how he speaks to you, not even able to think long before he slaps your clit harshly and your knees buckle, falling into the mattress under him. His dick slipping from you as you collapse into the mattress.

Geto doesn’t pick you back up straight away, oh no, because you’re leaking all of his cum out of your little hole onto the bed and he can’t take his eyes off of how much cum he managed to get inside you. It’s you who picks your hips up lazily, presenting yourself for him.

He chuckles at your loyalty to his cock, but he also can’t help the way the sight makes him twitch. Shoving his dick into you again, feral in his pursuit to fuck you, to fuck you full of more of his cum.

“S-so devoted– hnnn– doing such– hah– a good job for me, pretty,” he slurs.

You feel like you might pass out, so lightheaded but meeting each and every one of his thrusts all the same. An arm wrapping around your front pulls your back to his chest, both his hands landing on your tits, fingers pinching and rolling your nipples, making your pussy shudder around him.

You want to fuck your hips back recklessly but not able to with this angle, only able to arch further and give shallow grinds while he fucks his hips into you. He plants kisses and bites along your neck, nipping your skin hard enough that you twitch and whine each time he does it.

One hand leaves your tit and trails down your front, going for your cunt, spreading wide around where he’s stuffing you full continuously. Getting an absolute mess all over his hand and fingers, only to shove those fingers into your mouth, leaving you to lick him clean. Crammed full by his dick and fingers at once, convulsing around him at the thought of it, at the reality of it.

“You like being stuffed full, huh?” He muses to you, an evil kind of joy in his tone. You don’t get to choose your own response, he’s already using the fingers he has in your mouth to nod your head yes, “Ah, thought so.”

Pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly to watch how you suck on them as he does, before he’s wiping all your spit down your chest to your tummy. And then he has another hand on the back of your neck and is pushing you down into the pillows again, this time he keeps his hand there while he fucks into you diabolically.

Somehow faster than before, relentless, reaching his own end and wanting you to cum all over him at least once more. Head dipping back as he groans out, thrusts harsh and calculated, hitting all the spots he’s just learnt about, having memorised just how to make you fucking squirm for him.

Which he succeeds in, if he didn’t have the hand on the back of your neck, you would’ve crawled up the bed to try and get away from his evil thrusts. Poor abused pussy creaming around him for the fourth time, orgasm blinding you, only seeing white spots behind your eyelids.

The sounds he lets out are wrecked and beautiful and have you wishing that you weren’t cumming so violently if only to see the way he’s spilling inside you for the second time tonight.

“That’s it– fuck– take it– taking it so fucking well– holy fuck–” every word he utters is breathless and broken, essentially fucking himself stupid too.

Taking a moment for himself to catch his breath before he’s slipping from you and pulling your ass cheeks apart to watch how his cum dribbles from your overfilled cunt. You try to wiggle away but he holds you steady, eyes trained on your dipping hole, overcome with the desire to fuck his tongue inside you but instead settling for shoving two fingers inside, plugging your hole to keep his cum in.

You whine at him, and he can only chuckle and find you incredibly cute in your post orgasm bliss. Barely able to keep your eyes open, let alone speak right now.

He does eventually pull his fingers from you, wiping the mess on your thighs before turning you onto your back. It feels like you’re looking up at an angel as he looks down at you, or maybe the devil, all flush and sweet smiles, too sweet for a man that just fucked you within an inch of your life.

“Y-you can’t smile at me like that, not after you almost killed me,” you babble back at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, “There you go overreacting again.”

“You fuck so mean, Sugu,” you accuse… accurately.

A smile grows on his face again, “Feels real good though, doesn’t it?”

You weakly slap at him, he just grabs your hand and tugs your body into his kneeling form, hugging you to him. Pressing kisses all over your face, “Think you can stand long enough to shower?”

Shaking your head at him, “Not without fainting.”

“Alright, bath it is,” he concludes.

He takes such nice care of you afterwards, a complete contrast to how he fucked you. It’s lovely though, the hands that grabbed and pulled at you now delicate as they trace over your skin, washing you clean.

You rest with your back to his front in the bath, head laying lazily on his chest, “So… for the sake of clarity, we’re not just friends?”

His lips tickle against the tip of your ear, “I can fuck you all over again if you need more proof?”

“I fear you might actually kill me.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” he presses a single kiss against your cheek.

In the morning, for the first time ever, he makes you breakfast, to make up for all the marks he’s littered your body with. He also officially asks you on a date, which you pretend to think really hard about even though you’d already decided you were going to say yes.

In the end, being friends with Geto Suguru wasn’t hard… it’s just not what you both wanted.

𝐀/𝐍: this was a while in the making and the vibes of it changed so many times throughout 😭 it was supposed to be situationship but i fear i'm not well versed enough in what exactly one is to write about it properly.... anyways ! i hope you enjoyed regardless and thank you for reading !!! <3

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

#visionwrites #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader smut #suguru geto x reader smut #suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader

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