#spread the love while i languish with little writing time

[sharkneto]

Patiently waiting for more TUA grown up Five who didn't go to the apocalypse fic update.

thanks for the fic description, i'd forgotten what fic i was writing and not updating around my busy couple months. you've saved the day

[alexis-royce]

WIP game, (aka proof that I certainly don't finish everything that I start!)

I was tagged by: @the-dye-stained-socialite

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Please don't get too attached to any of these. Each one is equally likely to languish in draft purgatory or get made into a fully-fledged-whatever-it-is.

Grounds for Termination (Chrome and Prism)

Mostly text below the cut:

No Spoilers (Fallen London)

The third member of the book club had been uncharacteristically quiet. His pencil had been scribbling away for weeks now. Occasionally, Pages would demand to see what the man had been writing, wary of some kind of treacherous spy notation. But each time, his notebook was spun around, revealing a veritable sportsman’s notation of the conversation, complete with tally marks, denoting points. The Jovial Contrarian would flash an expression charitably known as “punchable,” before returning to his note-taking. Great rhetorical zugzwang did not come without effort and study, and if a man wanted to keep his edge, it was frightfully important to find and study such excellent examples.  Cards, at a glance, found themself exceptionally leery of the notation system employed by the contrarian, but before they were ever quite able to question it, some little spark of conversational fluff would waft by, reigniting their squabble with Pages, and more pressing matters would take prescience.

Mastery and the Marvellous (Fallen London)

“Stop that. Why are you rubbing your eye?” “I’m. Rubbing my eye?” She stammered. “I suppose-“ “Hypothetical. I know why you are doing this. Your hand. It vexes you.” “If my hand hurt, why would I rub-“ “Your hand of CARDS, Human.” “That hand’s fine, too-“ The movement was sudden, but there was no harshness in its tone. It stole the cards from The Disgraced Academic’s grip, and spread them out on the table. “Oi!” The Academic reached for them, but Pages shooed her away. “Do you want an afternoon’s amustraction, or do you want victory?”

Hiding an injury / betrayal / lying (Fallen London)

There was a long-running argument as to the exact shade violant most resembled. As a light, it was redder than blood. As a pigment, it was nearly indigo. But everyone who saw it agreed that the effect was much the same as spotting a running rivulet of blood from the stomach of a loved one. It commanded attention, to the distraction of all other things. The Ex-Disgraced Academic’s fingers trembled as they scraped violant eyeshadow from their compact, dragging it across their upper eyelid, and into the creek behind the bridge of their nose. They fanned it out, under their brow, nearly to their temple. It was a daring use of rouge, and frankly scandalous.  But it was exactly the sort of hue that would distract from the blossoming crimson stain oozing from their abdomen.

Dissociation (Deadly Premonition, HUGE spoilers)

First off, Zach could come to the front whenever he wanted, so it wasn’t a problem or anything. The white room was only a room in their dreams. When they were awake, it was more of the feeling of white, then anything else. A pull at the back of his skull, as though gravity shifted at the edge of his brain. But he didn’t have to stay back there or anything. When nobody was talking to them, he liked to strum on their base, or stitch new patches onto their jacket. He liked to get fancy with the stitches, and York was pretty encouraging about it. But the other guys made one crack about embroidery, and it took Zach four months to even pick up a needle again. Sure, he sometimes bumped into things while walking. But Zach was fine. He wasn’t trapped at all.

Experimentation / Muzzle / transformation (Jekyll & Hyde)

Pain hurts worse the more damage it does to you. For Henry John Albert Jekyll, transformation was excruciating. There simply wasn’t a way to reframe it as beneficial. Alchemy followed a process, and one of the first steps was the stripping of vice.  This position wasn’t meant to be anything beyond a simple Nigredo stage. The sloughing and burning of vice. It would have hurt, but it would have been a pain of catharsis. The bitter medicine fed to him in bed by a nurse. A scalding bath. The screaming voice of his father, correcting a shameful behavior. The mortification of flesh. But what was good and noble was being ripped from him. His patience, above all other things. Everything was louder as Hyde, everything was loud and impossible to abide, beer was richer and gin sweeter, the thighs of a woman were soft and the moans of men buttery.

The Outside, Chapter 4 (The Stanley Parable)

He went instead to the encyclopedias, pulled one down from the shelf, and then three more. Volumes 23-26. He opened two of them to random pages and left them open on the ground, then opened the other two, quickly turning pages one at a time. Lots of text, lots of images… THERE.  Two of the volumes were displaying identical page layouts. Two sets of articles on mangroves, not a single difference between the words and images. Volumes 24 and 26 had repeated content.  But when he flipped the books closed, both covers listed “Volume 25.” No…he’d been certain that he’d pulled four differently numbered books off the shelf. He checked the row again, and there, plain as day, was the untouched copy of Volume 26. If Stanley had attempted to relay this fact to another person, they’d likely tell him that he’d made a mistake. The library simply happened to have two copies of Volume 25. It was odd, sure, and bad luck that he’d managed to grab the one book that would trip him up. But those coincidences were more likely than…what? He was dreaming? His senses were handling input incorrectly ? The world around him was a poorly designed fabrication, scrambling to patch itself with limited content and memory allocation? Stanley’s fingers twitched.

Ash and Herbert Comic (Evil Dead, Re-Animator)

Panel 1 Ash, taking his pants off Ash: Hey short stuff I gotta thank you for doin’ me this solid Panel 2 Slumps down in a chair, boxers and hairy legs, kicks his feet up: Ash: I ran outta pharmacies after the S-Mart in Kalamazoo refused me service. Panel 3 Foreground, a syringe flicks bubbles, Ash prattles on in bg, full of a staggeringly self-assured confidence They say it was “because a horde of giggling demons ate the receptionist,” but I know transphobia when I see it.”

Charles Augustus Milverton Adaptation (Sherlock Holmes)

Watson later apologizes. “The very minute which my own blood cooled, I realized that I had committed upon you the same crime of which I had accused you. I was the cold one, not you. And I fear that it was not the young lady’s feelings which I’d been attempting to protect.”

Otto's Mind Design Docs (Psychonauts 2 Spoilers)

Lead Into Gold Roughs (Serialized Killer Spoilers)

Harold “Weird…is this some kind of accountability that isn’t based off fear?” — Maggie: Arrrrrgh Harry’s buzzing around in here telling me what to do.{w} Shut up I don’t take orders from ANYONE! Maggie: GRRAAAAAAHHHH! with vpunch Maggie: huff huff pause Maggie: Hawley, tell me what to do. — Harry "Well, DeLus was ACTUALLY locked in her basement by her father. There wasn't a lock on MY basement door. Show hawley sarcastic Hawley "Yeah, that's completely different." #Harry does not pick up on the sarcasm Harry "I've led a very fortunate and privileged life."

Hojojutsu (Lupin III)

Page 1 Zenigata is walking past a line of recruits, who are saluting. Narration: Inspector Zenigata Koichi is diligent, Zenigata continues to walk by, the word balloons follow him Narration: and hardworking, Zenigata continues to walk past the line of recruits Narration: And Tireless, One of the recruits, under his salute, grins. It’s Lupin. Narration: And A FOOL. Jigen Curse Comic Page Le Salle is a room that dwarfs the Mona Lisa, and how small it is in real life frequently disappoints people. Similarly, the man removing it is dwarfed by the space he fails to magnificently occupy. Rolling up the painting is Jigen Daisuke. Zenigata keeps his gun leveled. Balloon: Jeez, Pops, put that away before you hurt someone! The room is big, and there are only two men in it. Zenigata: Lupin? Come on out, and I’ll swap the gun for cuffs! Jigen, Mona Lisa in hand, brushes back his jacket, reaching for his gun. Jigen: You want me to take care of this? Page Zenigata’s confusion is making him upset. Balloon: Are you nuts? I’m already very mad you capped one guy, don’t push your luck! Under the brim of his hat, Jigen grins. He abandons his draw. Jigen: Whatever you say, Boss. Zenigata finally loses it. Balloon: Hmph, you only call me “Boss” when you’re upset- Zenigata: What the HELL’S goin’ on, here?! His grip is tight on the gun. Zenigata: Where the hell is Lupin? He bellows, in quite the action shot. Zenigata: Because that voice… ...ain’t him! Page Jigen stops for a moment, putting the Mona Lisa into a canvas tube. He slings it over his shoulder. Jigen: Well, that’s rude. Jigen begins to walk away. This conversation is built of linked speech bubbles. It’ll be a little confusing to read, but that’s okay. Zenigata is also confused. Jigen: You’d think he’d be happy to see his reason for living! I know, it’s been what, six months? Six months without a good chase! Must’ve been goin’ stir-crazy. Page The brim of Jigen’s hat tilts up, and a ray of moonlight passes over his face. He’s not doing well. The smile on his face is very Lupin-esque, wide eyed and energetic. But it sits poorly on this gunman. It doesn’t suit him, and with good reason. Jigen: That’s okay! I was itching for a heist, too!

High Protocol (NonPlatonic Forms)

“I can’t believe I shaved for this.” “Shut up, Liam.” Lee found it exceptionally rude that, almost as soon as he’d been able to speak again, he wasn’t allowed to use his voice anymore. “Yes, yes,” Niles worried at the cuffs of his jacket, and straightened his lapels, “an utter shame that the world won’t be graced with your croaky voice. However, the point is for you to be perceived as little as possible. If you draw attention to yourself, it will soundly defeat the point. Lee didn’t think that he was dressed to blend in. The suitjacket was immaculately tailored, and cut from a black-on-black brocade. He’d managed to slick his hair back into place, and he could see his face in his shoes. There was something satisfying about being dressed so elegantly. If you could pull off a look, it made you into a walking piece of art. Neat! But the collar was tight, the layers had already made him begin to sweat, and the shoes pinched at his toes and heels. Lee looked great, but it was a trade-off he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make for long. Niles began to fuss with Lee’s tie, now. Initially, he held tie after tie up to his neck, debating between endless shades of black, wrapping them around his collar in half and full Windsors. As his fingers brushed against Lee’s neck and chest, the sensation was more than enough to distract Lee from the pain in his heels. But the analogue method was too cumbersome for Niles, who quickly reverted to cheating. A snap of his fingers, and a new tie sprang about Lee’s collar. Another snap, another tie. Snap, snap, snap.

Gray Jacket Chapter 20 (Lupin III, and I do actually plan on finishing this one)

It wasn’t unheard of for them to bump into the same opponent once or twice, but over the past couple years, a young swordsman had kept popping up. A genuine, 20th-century samurai, hakama and katana in tow. Lupin had squarely beat him on all fronts, of course. Nobody was ever really any match for his own dazzling brilliance. But the Samurai had survived both encounters, and after a particularly lengthy little job plundering a pair of scrolls the samurai had been ordered to guard, the samurai had tried a new tactic. He’d shown up, barging straight into Lupin’s hideout, shoulders piled high with all his worldly possessions, determined to study, with Lupin as his new master. After all, Lupin had bested the samurai and his master, multiple times over. If he wanted to learn from ‘The Best,’ then it would be Lupin, and nobody else. At that moment, however, ‘The Best’ was plowing straight [OH NO THIS PART IS EXPLICIT], and the samurai’s declaration of intent to dedicate himself to Lupin’s tutelage was drowned out by an overcome moan of [YEAH YOU CAN'T SAY THAT IN CHURCH] and Lupin wasn’t in the habit of making artisan, single-sourced love if he had a looky-loo breathing down his neck. Across the room, Jigen turned the page of his newspaper. “The boss is busy. Come back later.”

Off the Cuff 2 (It's in the title)

"Ahhhhhh, {i}Christ.{/i}" "It’s my ex." "You ever been in one of those relationships that just consumes you from the inside?{w} You really, really know it’s a terrible idea, but that hardly helps.{w} You draw a line super early: clear, definite boundaries." "And then you realize that you’re both insanely fucked up, and neither of you has the same definition for what you’ve defined." "Why do I always find myself in these sorts of scenarios?{w} All I can do is sigh." "Nobody tells you that a 5\’2\" spitfire is going to be utterly irresistible to so many people. Hey, I try to warn them." "Too many folks out there touch-starved, I guess.{w} You pat them on the head once, and they think you’ve got an immortal, irreplaceable bond,{w} and then they drag you away to their laboratory where they just can't stop raising the dead, and you’ve got a whole 'nother issue to deal with." "Oh, well.{w} It do be like that sometimes."

Mecha Pilot Lee AU (NonPlatonic Forms)

The screen illuminated Lee's face. “Huh. That’s weird.” “What’s weird?” If she hadn't been a 15-meter mech, she could’ve been arching an eyebrow, for all her timbre implied. “Diagnostics were checking to see if you’d suffered data loss in the attack, but it’s the opposite. There’s new data in here.” Lee preemptively logged the finding analog-style, pulling out a notebook and copying down the file name.   “Oh, uh. Don’t open that.” She coughed. “That’s private.” Lee smirked. “Julia is not supposed to be saving personal files to your hardware, Channery. It’s a security issue.” “Where else is she supposed to save them? Come on, Lee! The enemy built me with barely any memory as it was! I know that I’m not supposed to be developing a history or memories, but you know better than I that I can’t accurately cross-reference them against any moral codes besides treasuring Julia!” “Oh. So it’s. Uh. Personal?” “Extremely.” Channery glowered. She couldn’t really fire her pulse charges at an ally, but her tone didn’t exactly encourage Lee to test it. “Channery, you know that I’m going to have to double-check this, right? I have to extract this and run it on a limited server. If it’s malicious…” “It’s not malicious! But it is, you know…” she hissed through her not-teeth, “…off-book pilot/apparatus bonding techniques.” “Any events that take place inside a cockpit are subject to government surveillance,” but Lee groaned as he said it. Julia and Channery weren’t the first pair to commit ‘off-book activities,’ and they wouldn’t be the last. It wasn’t even an illegal activity, so long as you were the only pilot assigned to the mech in question. But some pilots looked at the memory reserves in the mech’s hard drive, and figured that, so long as the AI was going to be adding the occasional movie, song or mission footage to its memory banks, there was space in there for their own precious memories of hanky-panky.  Fucking the mech wasn’t illegal. But saving your own unapproved files to the hard drive was.

And last but not least, from the 51k nanowrimo version of Lead Into Gold:

20th of Mid-Autumn, 1905 My one and only, You are quite right. I meant to write you a love letter, but instead, wound myself up in fears and concerns for myself. This next letter must scoop you up into my arms, and submerge us both into the warm comfort of my adoration. I miss you dreadfully; during the days there is my research to keep me company, but it is a cruel friend that runs me ragged and leaves me empty. I’ve grown accustomed to welcoming you to dinner every night, and have been considering hiring a cook, if research continues to go well. It is not fashionable to have servants, as the aristos in other cities do, but the hiring of a weekly maid is quite normal, and has worked well for me. I have kept her from touching the guest room- which is quickly taking place in my mind as ‘Hawley’s Room’- but I cannot say the same for myself. I have slept in there twice already, and worn your sweater while I slept and while I but these hints of you are not the same as your presence and words. You know, as much as I may consider the opinions of others, their presence is extraordinarily draining. I have had three dinners since you left, all of them supposedly university functions, but all also including a number of businessmen. I knew that this was a common occurrence in the chemical and engineering departments; the end goal for most research is to patent and sell to the highest bidder. But as you mentioned, I am quite well off enough that to sell would be quite unethical of me. So it is obnoxious to continually wish for a dinner discussing university business, and to get this other sort of business, instead. Were you here, I wonder what you might have said. And yes, I am sure that that must be an odd thing to hear from me, who is constantly tutting and pooh-poohing you for your lack of manners. But what seems irksome in abundance can be precious in absentia. And your forthrightness is a blast of cool air in these stuffy meetings. The lot of us stuffed-shorts spend hours and hours carefully twisting our words around, into pretty shapes, hoping to avoid offense. But all that that really seems to accomplish is to raise the standard. And thus, words that are not pretty enough become an offense. A missed complement becomes a slight. It is enough to make me long for you to insult me. I am no masochist, but the sense of security one gets by being insulted in good faith? It is endless. To know that one’s faults are perceived, and still accepted, is more flattering than a hundred compliments. That is part of the charm of you, one that is not easily seen by those deluded enough to expect empty flattery. You do not insult out of some desire to exercise power, or to harm the person with whom you speak. You do so out of the simple, innocent desire to speak what is true, or to assist another in correcting a flaw. And thus, when you speak praise, it holds a value to me which is deeply precious. And all the moreso because your opinions and insight are excellent! When we differ in perspective, it is not long before you are able to sway me to your side of the matter, and I feel all the richer for it. I miss them deeply, and remain, Ever Yours, Harry P.S. I am enclosing some additional notes on the new detection device, and I hope that they are of value.

25th of Mid-Autumn, 1905 My Failing Wordsmith, It confuses me to no end, how a man who spins the most poetic words of love in person, cannot manage to do the same on paper. I do not feel submerged in affection yet, you must open the tap further. I apologize, I am in a lackluster mood. I’ve seen neither hair nor hide of the demon, though the readings are exceptionally strong. I end each day in mounting frustration. One of Rakove’s damndable wasps escaped from its carrier the other day, and when I swung at it, the horrible things was impertinent enough to sting me. That was, in effect, the end to my entire day. Unlike you, I do not handle pain well, and the swelling in my arms was enough to command my thoughts, and I took to bed. I tried writing to you, but it was as though the blinding light at sea, searing my eyes, were all concentrated on that one spot on my arm. All I accomplished was to ruin two sheets of paper with curses, and they are illegibly mediocre ones. Professor Rakove did his best to assist, but his research in the matter is still lacking, and the salve which he applied to the sting only made the situation worse. He asked me questions, attempting to ascertain my status, but, delirious with pain, I cannot tell if I was any help. He stayed by my side for the rest of the day and night, and I appreciate his diligence, giving up valuable research time to care for me. I am still weak, and he supposes that I might have been allergic to the sting. I have told him that while I may grumble about it, he is forgiven in my heart, so long as he fixes the latch on his bee carrier. I shall continue to convalesce, but I won’t improve without affection. Yours. I demand it, so that I may remain, Ever Yours, Hawley

[faegoddessog]

 Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 26/41

Chapter  26: Living on the Edge

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, fingering, edge play, cunnilingus, fellatio, unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll),

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes  involved here. 

Chapter  26: Living on the Edge

You awake in the morning with Austin snuggled up behind you. He is still sound asleep. Probably the most sleep he’s gotten in a while.

You slip out of bed to pee and brush your teeth. You are excited for the play of the day, although a little apprehensive. No one has ever denied you orgasm before. You don’t know how you will react.

When you creep back into bed, you just lie there, watching the city wake up, feeling so content.

You could really live the rest of your life like this, waking up next to this dream man in the morning. Feeling loved and wanted and cared for. But also being independent at the same time. You haven’t dared to think about such a thing. Anytime you even begin to, you get anxious, like right now, FUCK.

‘Do not ruin this weekend with stupid ‘what if’ thoughts. Just enjoy the moment.‘ you tell yourself.

Austin starts waking up, stretching long then curling around you.

“Good morning Kitten,” he mumbles in your ear.

“Hey love,” you respond, shooing your anxiety away.

“I'll be right back.” He is gone for 2 min, then slides back into bed, pulling you to face him with minty fresh breath. He lowers his face to yours, bushing his lips to your lips. Your tongue flicks out to graze his lip.

“Oh, I see you brushed too,” he observes, "how long have you been awake?”

“Twenty minutes or so.” you answer, pulling him close and opening your legs. Austin stays at your side though, opting to kiss you from there. His kiss is light at first, then probing your mouth open, he goes deeper. Tongue coiling around yours, teeth trapping your bottom lip. His hands roam across your naked body, leaving lines of wildfires in their wake. He kisses you for what feels like an hour. It drives every other thought out of your head and you are lost, languishing in his hands, his lips, his tongue, his naked hardness pressing against your thigh. You head is full of Austin.

Just kissing him has you so worked up your hips are gently thrusting onto nothing. You push his hand down toward your crotch, wanting him to touch you there. He pulls his hand away just as it brushes your mound. He pulls away from kissing you.

“Do you remember our game for today?” he asks.

“Yes, “ you reply.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks, with a roguish look in his eye, “because I plan to torment you all day.”

“I have no idea if I’m ready, I suppose we will find out,” you return his devilish look.

“I suppose we will,” he kisses you again.

He throws back the covers and slides his hand between your legs, just lightly stroking your outer labia. You moan quietly, contentedly. He moves his body down between your legs and spreads your lips with one hand just enough to expose your clit. He knows how much you like that and if he forgot, your audibly shaky inhale reminds him.

He takes the thumb on his other hand and barely grazes your clit. You are surprised at how sensitive it is with so light a touch. He just touches it again, and again. Making you jump slightly and squirm. Then he stops. The room is silent but for your breathing and the susurration of your hands running up and down your thighs.

He goes back to your clit, touching with little light strokes. Then again stops. By the third time he does this your pussy is constricting onto nothing. Your hips are thrusting towards his fingers, petitioning in their own way for more. Little whining moans escape your mouth each time he stops. When your hands get too close to your pussy, he slaps them away. You decide to tuck them under your low back, so they don’t betray you.

He starts petting your inner labia, slow and light, then up to your clit, grazing it once, twice. Then nothing.

Petting, grazing, nothing. Again and again. You had no idea you could build up so fast on so little.

Then his fingers spread you wide, the tautness of the skin under your clit is unbearably good. His finger swirls just at your entrance. Teasing your hole. You moan. He stops. You whine in the back of your throat.

“Fuck Kitten, you are dripping,” he says appreciatively. He pulls up a long line of juices from your pussy, then licks it off his finger. Watching him makes your own tongue snake out and lick your lips hungrily.

You want him to lick your clit, tongue fuck your hole, feast right from the source. You tell him so. He just raises an eyebrow and smiles.

He swirls, he pets, he barely flicks your clit, then stops, watching your pussy clench on nothing.

He continues this teasing until you are shaking and whining with desire. Then he dips his face down, using a wide tongue to lap up slowly and gently the full length of your pussy. You are gasping. Then the tip of his tongue is barely flicking your clit, once, twice.

“Oh fuuuuuuuckk,” you moan. You want to hold his head and ride his tongue, but he backs away.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” your hips are shaking, “I want you in me, please,” you hear yourself saying, hands reaching for him.

“Do you now?” he says, standing up and stepping away.

Stroking himself, he watches you pout and whine and rock your hips, trying to get some stimulation. Your hands balled into fists, now by your head. His lean naked form with his hard cock in his hand is glorious. You want him in you so badly.

He motions you to the corner of the bed, you slide over so you are laying on the edge. He positions himself between your legs, which open to him without a second thought. He covers your pubis with his hand, pressing and vibrating. It feels good, but he is not IN you.

Then he spreads open your labia with his fingers, opening your wet slit, pulling your clit taut. Pushing his tip against your wide open vaginal entrance, then slowly in, filling you.

It’s magnificent.

He stops, taking in a deep breath.

“You are so warm around my dick, Kitten,” he says shakily and low, “I’m gonna give you five good long strokes here, you have to count them for me. Understand?"

You nod.

He pulls out all the way, his tip resting at your entrance, still holding your labia open with his fingers. Then he slides in.

“One,” you count.

Out again and in slowly.

“Two," he feels so good.

Out, your eyes flutter. In.

“Three,” your voice is shaking.

Out and in, a little faster now.

“Four,” little more than, a pleasure filled sigh.

Out and in deep , deep, deep. You can feel his balls against your skin.

“Fi- ii- ive,” you stutter as he makes the last one a series of little sharp thrusts while he moans.

He pulls out, then moves to the side of the bed near your head as you whimper, empty.

“Open up Kitten,” you comply quickly, hands grabbing for him, happy to be doing something. You greedily pull his wet dick into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his tip and taking him deep. Your hands help by stroking him as he moves in and out of your mouth. You think he might cum by the sound he is making every time he thrusts in. Then he pulls out, a little breathless. And moves down to your pussy again.

“Now ten, count’ he slides in. These are harder and faster. By the time you count eight you are about to cum.

“I'm close,” you say.

Nine is slow and has you on the precipice.

Ten is fast in and fast out.

You almost cry at how close you are, yet how empty you feel.

Then he is in your mouth, again. Your hips are humping the air as you greedily take his cock.

Back to your pussy for ten more fast thrusts that push you up the incline again and onto the edge. Then to your mouth again.

Austin is getting closer and closer, you can tell. “Ok baby, I’m gonna either fuck that pussy or your mouth until I cum. Which one do you want?” his hand is pumping on his dick.

“Can I cum? " you ask, if he pounds your pussy right now you are GOING to cum.

“No,” he says with finality.

“Then I want to suck you off,” you open your mouth, flicking your tongue.

He quickly slides into your mouth. He sets his hand on your head, holding it still as he fucks your mouth, gagging you with each instroke. Oh my god, it’s glorious. Each thrust is punctuated by throaty groans from his chest. You feel your pussy deluge with more fluids. You want to reach down and rub yourself, but you don’t dare.

Just when you think he is about to cum, he quickly pulls out and is quickly between your legs. He slams into you. Your mouth and eyes open and you crunch upwards. Fuck it feels so good. He is frenzied, fucking your pussy hard staring at your face.

“Don’t you dare cum, don’t cum, don’t cum,” he commands, repeating with each stroke.

Somehow, you don’t- until all of a sudden you do. He pulls out, at the last second. Leaving you falling.

“NO!!!” you scream in disappointment, your orgasm totally ruined.

Austin shoots his cum all over your belly.

“FUCK!!” you yell loudly, beating the mattress with your hands. The feel of his cum dripping down your sides makes it all the worse.

“You bastard,” you're breathing hard as you stare at him angrily, your consciousness on the edge of clicking into angry demon mode.

He looks up smiling from your belly, then sees the look on your face.

"Whoa, Kitten, what’s wrong?” he asks, concern showing in his face as chest expands and contracts with billowing breath.

“Gimme a second,” you say, holding up a finger.

In an attempt to shackle that demon that wants to rip his throat out, you sit up and involuntarily rock your pubis against the mattress, clenching. A little shiver goes through you and your desperate need for satisfaction is slightly abated. You take three deep breaths.

“Well, I’m not sure I liked that,” you say honestly.

“What part? Or all of it?” he asks, sitting down next to you.

“Well, the build up was amazing, and if you had denied me totally, that would've been OK, I think. But you pushed me just too far at the end and was barely cumming when you pulled out and ruined it at the last second,” you say with a sly smile, “and it pissed me off.”

“Oh hunny," he wraps his arms around you consolingly, “I didn’t know you were that close. I'm so sorry."

“Hey, I was trying to play by the rules, but YOU decided to pound my pussy at the end,” your body clenches just thinking about it. “Fuck, I have never had a dissatisfying orgasm before. I didn't know that could even fucking happen!” you are still frustrated. You take another breath, trying to be chill. It’s just a part of the game.

“It sounds like we need to communicate better,” he observes. “I didn’t want to ruin an orgasm for you, just keep edging you.” With a finger he tilts your chin to meet his soft gaze. “I want you to feel amazing, baby, not disappointed. Do you want to call it off today?”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head, “No, I don’t. I think I would've had a fucking awesome climax. I definitely want to play with this more. Just no more sad fucking orgasms, please.”

“Well, maybe that’s what naughty girls get when they try to steal orgasms,” he is kinda joking, but kinda not.

You give him a look that says 'this is your fault buddy'. He looks back with 'you gotta tell me babe'. You roll your eyes and nod, 'yeah, we better figure this out'. The whole exchange makes you crack up, which makes him laugh too.

Demon wrangled and tension tamed, you spend a few minutes hammering out your communication. Deciding that in public any mention of ‘Bobbie’, borrowing from the previous ‘Robert’ safe-word, meant that you were getting close. When you were in private, just telling him you were close was fine. IF you are in a place or situation where you can’t talk, tapping three times.

............................

You get cleaned up, and go to put on your sundress.

“Panties or no panties babe?” you ask from the walk in closet where your 3 dresses hang on wooden hangers. The new blue one is pristine and ready for this evening.

“Panties!” he yells from the bedroom, where he is getting ready.

“Oooookay,” you say slipping your dress on and trying to find your panties. You swear you put them in the drawer.

You walk out to the bedroom area, “Hey Aus, have you seen my…” you stop. There, laid out on the bed are your infamous unicorn panties and a We-vibe Moxie panty vibrator setting on top of them. Austin is sitting on the chair behind the bed, legs crossed, hand to his mouth, like some Bond Villain.

“So, this is what I had in mind today. You wear that," he points to the vibe, “and I get this,” he pulls a little remote out of his pocket.

“Oh….” damn, now he is talking, “ Ok.”

You go to reach for the panties.

"Come here first,” Austin's voice is demanding.

You walk over in front of him. The skirt of your short sundress swaying against your bare legs.

“Let’s make sure you are primed for breakfast," he says, pushing your legs apart, “pull up your dress.”

You lift the hem, bunching it in your fists. He pulls your lips apart, then licking his fingers, slides them into you. You moan.

“You have to tell me when to stop. No cumming for naughty girls with no panties on,” he says with a serious face.

“Yes sir” you say, nodding.

“Good girl” he praises you.

He leans in and licks your exposed clit. You let out a breathy ohhhhh. He starts sliding his fingers in and out, licking your clit periodically. You get juicy. He starts to go faster, then his other thumb is on your clit, rubbing in circles.

Fuck fuck fuck, it feels so good. You can feel a drip running down your inner thigh. You start to get close.

“STOP!” you yell, louder than intending.

He pulls everything away from you and watches you twitch, breathing through your nose.

He motions to the panties, “put them on.”

You step into them, he reaches into your panties and pulls apart your lips again, nestling the vibe tight against your clit, adjusting the magnet to hold it in place.

“Let’s test it,” he says, pulling the remote out of his pocket. He taps the button and you feel it the low buzz against your clit. Your eyes close and flutter.

“Oh god” is all the response you can muster. He flicks it off.

“Good, let's go eat, I’m starving!” he says cheerfully.

You head down to the Belle Epoque restaurant in the hotel just in time to order breakfast. You decide it’d be fun to be French this morning. You manage to get seated in a cozy corner spot where you can sit next to each other, Austin’s hand on your leg.

“Oui, I will ‘ave zee Croque Madame.” you say to the waitress in your best French accent. "Et un cafe au lait d’avione, t’ch uh… how you say with oat milk. S'il ouvs plait.”

She repeats your order in Austrailian accented english, just to make sure she has it right, then takes the menu and takes Austin’s order, which he does in his deep southern accent. You think it's funny, the southern American gentleman with the fancy French lady.

“I don’t think I’ve told you how hot it is that you speak French. It turns me on when you use that accent, Kitten," Austin says quietly, his hand rubbing your leg. The other in his pocket. The vibe starts buzzing gently against your mons.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips.

“Merci Mon Roi, ” you bite your bottom lip, looking him in the eye. The vibrations get stronger. You quickly look away from him, scanning the restaurant as casually as you can. The thigh under his hand tense. You take a deep breath and look back at him. The vibe clicks off. Your hips wiggle.

“Zen, I will be French, Mon Roi,” you decide to fully commit to it throughout breakfast, at least.

Your café au lait and his flat white come. He pulls out his phone and takes a sip of his coffee. When you lift yours to your mouth, the buzz turns on.

“Oh,” you jump, almost spilling your coffee. Looking at him slightly exasperated, but also turned on. Struggling to hold the two emotions in tandem.

“It has an app too,” he wiggles his phone at you. You set the coffee down lips pressed together. You smooth out the hem of your dress, shifting your hips trying to look as if you are just resettling yourself on the seat, when in fact you are pressing your clit harder into the vibe. He clicks it off.

You blow out a breath. “May I ‘ave mon cafe maintenant?” you gesture to your cup. He graciously waves a hand. You sip your coffee vibe-free for a bit.

You continue small talk using your French accent. He keeps his hand on your thigh. He has worked the hem up so he can glide the pads of his fingers on your skin periodically. You have work to keep you focus on what you are saying.

Austin looks up, then at his phone, taps and the buzz starts. It’s pulsating, low to high and back again. You inhale in a stutter and your eyes widen. Your hand slaps down to your thigh, grabbing the back of his hand. “Thank you” he says pleasantly, he is looking up at the waitress who is setting plates down in front of you.

“Merci,” you say with a forced smile as your spine shivers.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asks, the barest hint of concern on her face as you try hard not to shiver in your seat.

“Well now, don’ you like hot sauce on them eggs, babeh?” Austin asks you in full southern drawl, which makes it that much hotter and that much worse. The vibe’s pattern changes to a staccato, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Non, Merci,” you say in a breathy voice, gripping his hand tighter and trying to shift away from the vibe.

“Well I thought you did. Anyhoo, I’d love me some,” he gives the waitress a big smile. You are biting your tongue, begging for her to walk away.

“Oh, I don’t know if we have any. I can check for you,” she says.

“Oh then don’ chu worry none. I’ll be jus’ fine without it.” he drawls. You know he is stalling, pushing you. You feel wetness leaking from your lips.

She turns away and you slap him three times on the hand harder than you mean too. The vibe quiets. You blow out a sigh, trying to calm down.

“Ow Kitten, you don’t have to slap me,” he says under his breath.

“Sorry, I was close,” you whisper rubbing his hand, “and you were stalling. Meanie.”

“I could tell,” he says with a smile, “you must be crap at poker. You show everything in your face.’

“I ‘ave told you before, I am merde at lying!” you say with a tiny, knowing smile.

He lets you eat without clitoral interruption, although you are prepared for it with every bite you take. He charges the bill to the room.

As you stand up to go, he turns the vibe on again, medium setting. You snap to upright, buttocks clenching. A little whine in the back of your throat. Pressing the skirt of your dress down with your palms before attempting to step away from the table.

Austin is watching your reaction. Your demon watches him from under your lashes, chin tilted. He saunters to your side of the table and puts his hand on your waist. You take a step and the vibe changes pattern. Pulsing, stopping, pulsing again. Your stomach and pelvic floor both clench and you grab the table for support, eyes closed. You are about to come undone.

Looking up at him pleadingly, “stop,” you whisper. His hand dips in his pocket and the buzz stops.

“Are you Ok, Miss?” asks a passing waitress, looking concerned.

“Oui, cramps,” you say quickly, even though you’ve not had cramps in years. Ironic.

“Oh do you need some ibuprofen?” she is so sweet. You had forgotten how women can instantly bond over the blessed curse of periods.

“Non, merci,” you say with a smile.

“I’ll take good care of her, thank you,” Austin tells her with a smile, holding your hand.

“He’s a good one, you should keep him,” the waitress smiles.

“Mais oui,” you look up at him and he kisses you on the forehead.

You leave the restaurant holding his hand wishing to the gods that you CAN keep him. Somehow.

He stops in and asks the concierge to call an uber. He makes you wait in the lobby while he runs upstairs and grabs his camera bag and your purse.

As you sit on the lobby couch under the grand staircase, the vibe turns on. You don’t even have your sunglasses to hide behind as they are in your purse. You casually lean back into the couch, legs crossed, arms spread out on the back of the couch. The vibrations are low and mostly just enjoyable, not yet mind blowing. You watch people walk by outside and just try to enjoy the light buzz on your mons. Licking your lips and teeth, pressing your lips together. Squirming every so often.

Snap.

You turn your head and Austin is standing next to the low table in front of the couch. Both your bags looped over his shoulder.

“The light in here is amazing,'' he says from behind his camera. You smirk up at him.

Snap.

“That’s the end of that roll,” he says, rewinding the film. Then reaching into his pocket to click off the vibe. Pulling his hand out, he offers it to you. “Shall we, my lady?” You take his hand and stand up. “I hope the wait was, enjoyable.”

“It was pleasant, thank you,” you smile at him.

In the Uber, you slip your arm under his, nestling into him, looking out the window. His hand slips under the skirt of your dress.

He holds a delightful conversation with the driver about Brisbane as his fingers slip under the side of your panties, slowly pushing the little moxie, making sure it's snug against your clit. It turns on. Your legs slowly squeeze together.

“Are you looking for some art, I know of some other really great galleries,” says the driver, referring to your destination. Austin’s hand coaxes your legs apart.

“Oh no, we are going to use the darkroom. I have some film of this beautiful lady to develop.” He says, looking down at you. You smile up at the driver. Austin’s fingers are rubbing the outside of your cotton panties, just below he buzzing vibrator. You push your hips into his fingers, biting your lip.

“Oh are you a model?” asks the driver. You aren’t going to be able to hold a conversation

“No, I do construction. Bobbie here is the model.” The vibe clicks off and you breathe a sigh.

“Oh? Anything I might've seen?" he asks.

“Didn’t you do an Abercrombie and Fitch campaign back in the day babe?” you make something up on the spot. Austin slips his fingers under the wet cotton of your panties.

“Oh no, I did a shoot for ODDA magazine a while back, But I’m tryin’ to make my way into being a photographer now,” he says, his middle finger sliding into you.

The driver nods, "Cool. So construction?” the driver turns to conversation to you, obviously, “what do you do, like office stuff? ”

“No, I do actual construction,” you say a little defensively, “demo, electrical, masonry, carpentry, plumbing."

“She is being modest. This beautiful lady single-handedly does upscale remodels for clients all over the world. She is amazing,” se looks down at you with pride and pushes his finger up into you as far as he can.

“Single handedly? Like you don’t have a crew?” he asks. Austin slowly slides in and out of you as you talk.

“Nope, I sometimes hire out basic things like drywall, but I pretty much do it all by myself. Well, this guy sometimes helps me carry boxes,” you look at Austin, biting your lower lip. This you can handle, the buzzing gets you too hot, too fast. This slow friction is just delicious.

You arrive at the Maud Street Photo Gallery and check in at the desk. The clerk shows Austin where the darkroom is and the chemicals etc. You just nod along. You know all the words they say, but that doesn’t mean you understand what they are talking about.

Once in the darkroom, you watch as Austin gets his bearings, setting out equipment and bottles of chemicals. He tells you what he is doing, in part to remind himself. He moves around the room with ease. You can tell he is enjoying himself.

He locks the door and pulls the cover over it and asks you to seal it. It Velcro's all around the door, even to the floor. You put your phones and his watch in a dark bag, in case you get a text or something.

He flips off the light and it’s totally dark. You feel around and find him. Snuggling up behind him, your arms wrap around his waist as he works the film into the reels. He has two rolls to do.

You untuck his shirt and slide your hands up his back. Not being able to see, heightens your other senses. He smells amazing, like always. The skin under your fingers is soft. You glide down his spine, feeling the hard columns of muscle there. You reach around to his front and undo the button of his fly.

“Babe, give me a minute, I need to focus here a bit," Austin says in the dark.

You start to pull away from him, “No stay, I like feeling you behind me, just…”

“I got it,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head on his back.

“Thanks Kitten,” his chest rumbles on your ear.

He takes less than 10 minutes, dealing with the film reels and loading them into developing tanks in the dark. You just breathe him in, being in the moment.

“Okay,” he turns around in your arms, “come here.”

He runs his hands up your arms and onto your neck and jaw. Then his lips are on yours in the pitch dark. His tongue gently begging admittance to your mouth that you easily agree to.

Your tongues playing together. Your hands, still under his shirt, slide under his waistband and onto his ass, pulling you into him.

His mouth leaves yours “Mmmm, I’m gonna put a pin in this for a few minutes, I’ve got more to do.”

“M’kay” you say, “Can I help at all?”

He flips on the amber colored light. You help measure out chemicals according to his directions. He dilutes them with distilled water at a specific temperature.

He pours developer into the tanks and you help him tap them and agitate and turn them upside down every minute. He decants the developer into a reuse bottle and pours in fixer and you repeat the process of agitate and inverting. Then you wash the film in tap water, then with a washing agent.

He explains every step in detail. Clearly he enjoys doing this. He takes the film out of the tank and squeegees each roll off carefully and hangs them in the dryer while you tidy up.

“Now we wait for them to dry.” You hear him say behind you as you wipe up the counter. You turn around and he is looking at you hungrily, beckoning you with a curling finger.

He puts his arms around you as you step to him, bending down to kiss you. His hand slides down between your legs, checking the placement of his little toy.

“Is that in the right spot?” he asks.

You just nod, biting your bottom lip.

“Good, now I want you to wrap your talented mouth around my cock while I play with my new toy,” he says rubbing his thumb along your lips, “before you ask, no, you can’t cum, so let me know if you get close.”

He flicks off the light. In the dark, he pushes you down on your knees and you hear his fly unzip.

You glide your hand along his thighs to find him. You rub your wet lips across his velvety head. Flicking at him gently with your tongue, you lick a swirl around his tip with a wide tongue.

You hear him release his breath in a soft “oh” as you place him on your outstretched tongue then engulf him gently in your mouth, lightly dragging your lips back along his length.

Your tongue licks his tip, back and forth, lips sealed around his head, adding suction. It is easy, in the dark, to just wallow in the sensation of him; against your lips, on your tongue, filling your mouth. You are making little sounds of pleasure as you explore him with your mouth and you almost miss his quiet exhales of desire. You greedily lap up the salty taste of his precum dripping from his tip, tongue probing the tiny hole.

Licking your lips wet again, you push him into your mouth, but just his head, nestling it into the roof of your mouth, rubbing your tongue along the underside of him.

“Oh gods your tongue is gifted,” his voice is even sexier in the dark.

The buzz in your panties turns on. Your hips jerk backwards, your little moan is muted by his hard cock. You suck on his head harder and pull away, making a popping sound as you pull off.

Sliding way down on him, his tip rubs against your soft palate. His hand finds its way to your head. You pull back just a little then push him in again and again, controlling your gag reflex, until you can’t.

You pull way back off of him and push the thick saliva to the front of your mouth. Taking his head in again, you let it dribble out in streaks down his shaft, using your hand to spread it up and down.

“Oh fuck yeah, suck that cock, Kitten,” you hear his strained voice whisper.

The buzz increases then changes to pulsing.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper to his tip, your pelvic floor tightens in time to the pulsing.

You dive back down onto him, twisting your hand as you suck up and down on his cock. Your other hand catches the spit that starts to drip off his cock, massaging it into his balls.

“Oh yeah, just like that,” he whispers as he grips your hair in one hand, “let me fuck your mouth.”

He does just that. Your hips start pumping back and forth in time with his. You feel moisture surge around the vibe as tendrils snake up your spine, pulling energy into your pussy. You feel his balls start to cling tight to his body, his pace increasing. Knowing that he is close to cumming starts to tick off the seconds until all that energy explodes out from you.

You tap out. The vibe turns off.

He pulls out of your mouth. You are panting, your demon wanting so badly to climb him and sink that glorious cock into your needy pussy. But you force yourself to stay on your knees, that’s the game, you tell her.

“Fuck Kitten, you had me close,” you hear him pant in the dark.

“Same, god I love you in my mouth,” you tell him, hand about to wipe your chin.

Suddenly, his hands are on you, pulling you up to standing. His mouth finds yours, wet and sloppy, in the dark. His kiss is deep and intense and involves his whole body pressed to yours, hands grasping you close to him. Your demon grabs his cock and pulls aside your panties in order to slide him into you. You get as far as his tip touching your lips when his hand clamps down on your wrist.

“How is it that just when I think I am in control, even just your words make me want to lose it?” he whispers in your ear, pulling your hand with his cock away from your pussy.

“Do you want me to swallow your cum instead?” you ask, gripping and rubbing short strokes along his exposed, hard, wet shaft.

“Just like that. Fuck. Yes," his strained voice floats on hot breath to your ears.

You are instantly on your knees, mouth around this head, sucking and hand on his shaft, twisting. You greedily twist and suck, moaning when you take him deep. God you love it.

“You keep both those hands on me, no jerking yourself off,” he warns. He knows you well. You whine, but move your hand away from your crotch and massage his balls again instead.

Both of his hands grasp your head. Short blasts of breath whistle through his teeth as he starts pounding your mouth. His balls are tight to his body, you slip your wet fingers back between his balls and ass and massage there, pushing up.

“Oh my god, yes, I’m gonna cum down your throat, and you're gonna swallow every fucking drop,” his quiet voice fierce in the dark. Your demon is laughing at how you are making him lose control.

Suddenly he goes quiet and still, you feel hot cum spurting into the back of your throat. You immediately start swallowing, sucking and stroking him at the same time. He is shaking at the sensations. Struggling to keep quiet, you hear him breathily mouthing ‘oh fuck’ over and over again.

You keep slurping on his cock, torturing him with your tongue even when he tries to pull out of your mouth. You suck hard, drawing out every last drop, just like he told you.

Finally he manages to back away in the dark. ‘Be careful what you ask for’ your demon giggles. You realize you are actually chuckling. It must sound a little evil in the dark.

“Holy fuck, Kitten,” is all he can manage.

“I had to get every. Last. Drop.” you say sweetly, innocently.

The amber light comes back on. Austin is panting with his cock out over by the switch.

You are still on your knees, wiping the corners of your mouth with the most deviously innocent look on your face that you can muster.

He shakes his head, lips curled in a tight smile. He pulls you to your feet and wraps his arms around you, kissing your dirty mouth.

You press your hips, still needy, into him. He steps back.

“Ah uh ah,” he admonishes, “you still have to wait.”

You stick your lip out in pout and close your eyes, bouncing up and down a little in frustration.

“Don’t worry Kitten,” he takes your face in his hands, “I’m gonna give it all to you later.” His thumbs wipe your lower lip still wet from sucking him off.

[mydetheturk]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Ooooo I'm going to have a hard time picking five fics, i think.

here goes! (general "probably mind the tags on some of these?" notice before we really get into it)

I'm starting with an early one with this one; its vash (and meryl) having a terrible day, vash especially with the chronic pains, and wolfwood's a sweetheart. i adore it. ive gotten multiple comments from people saying they come back and reread it when they're having bad pain days because they can relate and all i can really say about vash's pain is "i wish it wasn't so real" because i based it off my own! my joints hurt so bad (my joints hurt so bad right now even) and sometimes a girl needs to project. wrap vash in a fuzzy blanket with a hot pack.

some uh. mean to wolfwood time; i was experimenting with second person pov for the first time in a very long time, and i really liked how it turned out! its kind of a take on volume 10 of the manga with tristamp elements. wait. stay here! its fine! wolfwood lives! it's part of a series where i explicitly make sure wolfwood lives!

i haven't decided if it's going to stay two chapters or if i'm going to write meryl pov or vash pov (its mashwood flavored) but please note that in my notes for if i ever do continue this, meryl kicks vash in the shin while wearing steel toe boots. she also then cries on him for breaking a promise but sometimes you have to drag one of your boyfriends home to the other one whose immunocompromised right now because of uh -flips through notes- heart transplant.

This fic is Rated E for First Time With A New Partner shenanigans. ALSO a mashwood fic. (hilariously, the first three all have been. oops? on a theme i think) The first part where Meryl & Wolfwood are playing Rock Paper Scissors to get to be the first one to go down on Vash, to Vash's Mortification and Robert's amusement? Had been languishing in a file for like a month, making me laugh at it every time i opened the file because it was right on top.

First Time Together Mashwood! Meryl gets to go down on Vash, and then Wolfwood goes down on her, and a great time is had by all. 5500 words of sillies.

It has Fanart. I laughed so hard i cried, delighted in the fact that someone had so clearly seen what i was picturing in my head.

The next two are a little Different.

-leans in. leans in real close- domina is our lovely girl and you'll love her too. this fic (and all of the domina/knives fics, really) spawned from me thinking to myself, "domina deserves to haunt knives. of all the plants he subsumes and makes part of the plant amalgamation, she is the only independent plant." so i started writing her haunting knives. and it spawned. it's spawned a lot, actually.

Six AM, Mulholland Drive, Moonlight Sonata and I is a take on being afraid of someone you love, i think. Chronica's mourned Domina, has thought she's dead, and comes to find out she's alive and running away.

It's got one of my favorite lines ive ever written in it, and its lovely, in a heartbreaking way.

.... listen, whenever i say "i have got to make plants weirder" please note this is a foray into making plants Weirder.

This was an early foray into making plants weirder. It's Zazie/Knives. No, no, stay here, enjoy some xeno weirdness, where the plant hivemind and the bug hivemind are having cross species communications. knives explodes. semi-literally, even. This really is one of the "might wanna mind the tags" fics, because Zazie. but also Knives! Weird, Contrary Bastard and "We're Here For Our Amusement" Bug Person.

I say both of these fondly.

Enjoy!

[reffitt-blog1]

hii i'm new to the star trek fandom but am trying to write a paper on star trek fanfiction from the 60s/70s. would you happen to have any fic recommendations for me to check out? what are the iconic, keystone pre-internet fics? thank you sm!!

Hello! I'll help you with what I know, most of which is rather Spirk leaning so I'm a little lacking on gen knowledge.

A Fragment out of Time by Diane Marchant is the first published Spirk fic. There were definitely fics written before this that were shared among friends but this is the easiest place to start because it's hard to date the others as they weren't published until later (if they got published at all. I'm sure there were fics that fans of the time knew about but were never published). A Fragment out of Time was printed in Grup #3 in 1974

“Shut up…we’re by no means setting a precedent.” He was quiet…and not merely because he was used to obeying that voice implicitly. He was being peeled, slowly, like a delicate fruit, in time to some far off pagan rhythm and he found his logical mind was swathed in a white mist of sensual well-being. Gentle hands spread warm oil slowly, in ever-widening circles over his chest. Tantalizingly, teasing fingers ran over each nipple, flicking the tip lightly. A slow, deliberate tongue reached out to each erect button. He shivered, then squirmed; surprising himself. A sleek, well-oiled torso slid over his chest down to his navel. Tiny shivers accompanied the soft nips at his abdomen. Warm oil was dribbled over lower areas; then a [ravaging?] finger made him glisten. Even his thighs were being massaged…the pressure was…delicious. Well-skilled hands made long, swooping strokes from his knee up the inside of his leg to the upper thighs. Now, he could not prevent this, any more than he could stop a solar eclipse…even if he’s really desired to. It had been building all these years…no one set of circumstances was the cause…now, it seemed it had been inevitable from the outset.

The Ring of Soshern by Jennifer Guttridge is said to have been the first Spirk fic written (1968) but it wasn't published until Alien Brothers in 1987. It's much to long for me to copy it here

In the realm of non Spirk knowledge, A Trekkie's Tale by Paula Smith, printed in Menagerie #2 in 1973 is the origin of the Mary Sue trope

"Gee, golly, gosh, gloriosky," thought Mary Sue as she stepped on the bridge of the Enterprise. "Here I am, the youngest lieutenant in the fleet - only fifteen and a half years old." Captain Kirk came up to her.

"Oh, Lieutenant, I love you madly. Will you come to bed with me?"

"Captain! I am not that kind of girl!"

"You're right, and I respect you for it. Here, take over the ship for a minute while I go get some coffee for us."

Mr. Spock came onto the bridge. "What are you doing in the command seat, Lieutenant?"

"The Captain told me to."

"Flawlessly logical. I admire your mind."

Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott beamed down with Lt. Mary Sue to Rigel XXXVII. They were attacked by green androids and thrown into prison. In a moment of weakness Lt. Mary Sue revealed to Mr. Spock that she too was half Vulcan. Recovering quickly, she sprung the lock with her hairpin and they all got away back to the ship.

But back on board, Dr. McCoy and Lt. Mary Sue found out that the men who had beamed down were seriously stricken by the jumping cold robbies, Mary Sue less so. While the four officers languished in Sick Bay, Lt. Mary Sue ran the ship, and ran it so well she received the Nobel Peace Prize, the Vulcan Order of Gallantry and the Tralfamadorian Order of Good Guyhood.

However the disease finally got to her and she fell fatally ill. In the Sick Bay as she breathed her last, she was surrounded by Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Scott, all weeping unashamedly at the loss of her beautiful youth and youthful beauty, intelligence, capability and all around niceness. Even to this day her birthday is a national holiday of the Enterprise.

You can read many of the old fanzines for free at the Internet Archive. It's collecting certainly isn't complete but there's over 200 zines there including the Spockanalia zines, which were the first all Trek zines written

For a more complete understanding of early Star Trek fanfiction you should check out Boldly Writing: A Trekker Fan and Zine History, which you can read for free here.

I know this is a little disjointed but I hope it helps. Feel free to ask questions and I'll add more as I think of it.

[nontoxic-writes]

I desperately need to hear about 9! (and maybe 3 if you're feeling generous?)

YES i love talking about hangster

so #9 is a fic set a few years in the future where bradley and jake have been hooking up for the better part of a year when bradley is sent on a mission and asks jake to house sit for him. then bradley goes MIA and jake goes a little insane and spends a few weeks fixing up bradleys house (and like most everyone in that fandom, he’s living in his childhood home) and slowly, all the daggers (plus maverick, obviously) show up to remind him he has friends who care about him.

the way that this is currently 32k and just languishing in my wip folder omg 😅

and a snippet from that one because why not:

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know.” Phoenix calls up at him from the ground.

Jake glances down from the top of the ladder, one hand practically elbow-deep in the muck filling Rooster’s gutters. “Oh, I know.”

“My best friend is missing and I just wanted to talk to someone who knows how it feels.”

“Your husband already pulling away, Phoenix?” He jokes. “Never thought that day would come,” he tacks on, recognizing that maybe the joke was too harsh.

She shakes her head. “Bob loves him, but it’s not the same.”

“Bob probably gets it better than I do, Nat,” Jake says, grinning wickedly at her. “I’m just the boytoy.”

“I think you love him,” she says bluntly. “You don’t have to admit it to me. You don’t have to admit it to anyone. But the very least you could do for him is make sure his best friend doesn’t fall apart without him.”

That hits him right in the fucking chest.

She’s right.

All the shit Jake is doing to the house, and what he should be doing is taking care of Bradley’s people. Fuck. He should call Mav.

(yes i am always spreading the bobnix agenda even if i still haven’t published a single fic in that fandom)

as for #3… yeah it’s a bonus chapter to even if it’s just pretend haha. when i was writing it, i was a day late posting the epilogue because i felt like i had to rewrite it, so im reworking the original epilogue and ill eventually post it, i swear!

there’s… not a ton of it to choose from, i reworked a lot of it into what was published and most of what’s left is just an outline, but here’s a little!!

Things are slightly different now, at least. Henry wears a pink tie with his charcoal suit, the rainbow pin stuck proudly to his lapel, and Alex leaves his collar open so Henry can be distracted by that divot at the base of his throat. And they're allowed to say the word "love" this time, and Henry gets to touch him when he needs reassurance, so while it's at least better than their last interview, it's still far from ideal.

thanks for asking about these two!! i love them both so much.

[scarletttries]

I Can Read You Like A History Book (Steven Grant Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant (Moon Knight) x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Gender neutral pronouns through, a little bit of teasing but mostly just sweet)

Word Count: 1.5k

Request: " Could you write a reader forcing Steven to read while they stroke him please."

Author's Note: Another bit of Steven Grant love for everyone (like me) who isn't over him yet 🥹 Thank you to everyone sending me these headcanons, please send more Steven requests/thots anytime 🥰

I Can Read You Like A History Book

Steven didn't really understand the phrase 'good night' until he met you.

Before you, nights were an endless cause of stress, confusion and a one way ticket to a morning of feeling more exhausted than ever. Steven dreaded the feeling of his eyes growing heavy, reluctantly locking himself into place for the night and fighting off the cold of the night, alone in his cocoon of blankets. Those bitter memories seem a lifetime away now though: the once lonely sheets now wrapped around you both, your shared warmth and joy soothing his restless heart and mind. No, settling into bed with you was now one of Steven's great joys, draping an arm over your waist to ground himself as all else drifted away. Occasionally though, he did need a little reminder that he no longer needed to spend all night keeping himself up.

Tonight was one of those nights.

It started with a new book, on Egyptian history of course, a brand new volume from his favourite researcher all about newly discovered artifacts in the desert and what they might mean. You watched him break into it the minute he got home from work, barely glancing up as you ate dinner, apologetic but entranced by the words. Not that you minded, it was always a pleasure to see Steven happy and excited, the bright sparkle in his eye as he absorbed the new knowledge and gasped along to the groundbreaking discoveries. You'd first met Steven at the museum, asking a simple question about one of the exhibits and getting an hour-long private tour in return. There was something about the way he shone as he spoke, the passion in his words, the intelligence behind those disarmingly good looks that had your heart beating faster every day since. Even tonight as he sat quietly on his sofa, you watched his eyes flitting word to word, tongue darting out as he worked through the pages and felt a warmth spreading throughout your entire being.

You left him to it as night approached, popping on a lamp when it grew darker, and bringing a fresh cup of tea when the old one was long forgotten and horribly cold. But when Steven's excitable gasps turned to hard-fought yawns, you decided it was time to call it a night for you both, jnowing he would need a little bit of persuading to set his book aside. Pulling on one of Steven's loose jumpers and sliding out of your jeans you put your plan in motion.

The enraptured man finally pulled his eyes away from the text as you settled onto the sofa beside him, resting your head against his shoulder as his lips pressed to your forehead instinctively,

"How's your book going gorgeous?" You asked softly, watching his beaming smile as he gushed excitedly, "It's incredible! It could prove the ancient Egyptians had even more deities than we thought! Doing all different jobs for the people and their lands." You combed your fingers through the mop of curls languishing on his forehead, cuddling closer as you asked pleadingly,

"Will you read some of it to me? Please Steven." The wide adoration in your eyes as you stared up at him had his heart skipping a beat, momentarily losing the ability to read or speak as he took in your loving gaze. It wasn't until you nodded towards the book that he re-joined you on planet Earth and snapped back to attention,

"Oh right! Of course love, sorry." And with that his eyes returned to the page, narrating the discoveries with heartfelt wonder as you cuddled close to his side, on hand still running through his thick hair, listening to his breath catch in his throat whenever your fingers caught the most sensitive spots on his neck. Slowly you let your free hand drift to his lap, delicately tracing shapes over his thigh through the soft fabric of his plaid pyjamas. Though you intentionally made your movements seem absent-minded, you paid close enough attention to hear the soft hum Steven let out at your touch, before quickly returning to the words on his page, slightly embarrassed by his sensitivity to your touch. As he continued line by line, you let your hand drift slightly higher, watching a blush creep across his cheeks every time his voice went up an octave at your caresses. Feeling increasingly flustered Steven felt his mind wandering away from his book, the blood exiting his brain in favour of other parts of him. He tried to keep his composure as you looked up at him adoring, letting out a sharp whine as you pulled your hands away from him. His eyes snapped up to your shifting form, breaking his literary flow with a disappointed look,

"I'm just getting comfier gorgeous," You said sweetly, lifting one leg over his lap until you were straddling his thighs, unavoidably brushing yourself over the bulge forming between them. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, head tilting back, book all but forgotten until you lifted his chin with a gently placed finger tip, giving him your best innocent pout,

"Please keep reading to me Steven, I love listening to you. You're so smart," You punctuated the word with a kiss on his forehead and a circle of your hips, "and so cute," this time your lips landed on his nose, "and so sexy." Finally you found his lips, planting a chaste kiss and getting a fevered nod in response, his eyes desperately trying to focus on the pages in his hands as you let yours fall into his lap.

He picked up the narrative again, voice a lot more flustered this time, struggling to take in the words as your fingers started brushing lightly over the now obvious tent in his pants. The light friction was enough to make his hips twitch, his brow furrowing in concentration as he kept up his best effort at articulation. Gradually your teasing touches grew firmer, rubbing your thumb over his clothed tip, the gentle circles of your hips bringing Steven closer and closer to the edge. You rubbed your palm over the length of him, feeling his thighs start to shake as he stumbled and stammered over every attempted word, his usual tone replaced by whines and moans as you moved.

"Umm, love, I.." He started, eyes no longer fixed to his text but to your steadily brushing hand instead. You paused your movements at his break in focus, earning an involuntary whimper as his hips bucked helplessly chasing his release.

"Please keep reading Steven." This time your tone was less sweet, more teasing, watching his eyes widen in desperation for your touch, so close to his release as he picked up the story's thread, sighing in relief as your hand returned to its rightful place around him. As you palmed him through his pyjamas you took two fingers into your mouth, sucking enthusiastically with a hum before they left your lips with an audible pop. Steven frantically tried to ignore the motion, struggling to sound out each word as the heat inside him grew, gulping as you pulled the waistband of his pants open slightly to slip your now slick hand inside. You ran your wet fingertips over his sticky tip, thumb rubbing a firm line down his length, and he was gone. The book clattered from his hand as he groaned your name, hips shaking beneath you as you pumped the length of him, feeling his underwear fill with his own warmth, the bliss of his release painting your hand and his lower stomach. He sighed exhaustedly as he came down from his high, leaning forward to kiss you hungrily, hands finding your waist with a vice-like grip. As he pulled you tightly against his chest you rocked against his thigh, suddenly painfully aware of your own aching arousal, the fun of teasing Steven stirring up more than a little excitement inside you. His hands drifted down to cup your ass, squeezing with a hum as his lips still clung to yours, smiling as he rocked forward, getting to his feet with you wrapped around his waist. He finally pulled his head back for a breath, a wide smile across his face as he asked breathlessly,

"Do you really like hearing me read that much?" You nodded happily, returning his kiss before adding,

"That and I think it's time for us to go to bed." You watched as your words put a devilish smile on his usually innocent face, carrying to you towards the bedroom in total agreement,

"You're absolutely right love, but you're not getting to sleep before I pay you back for that little stunt."

Safe to say going to bed wasn't something Steven dreaded anymore.

[palbabor-writes]

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst  

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu​, @kogo​ & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is. 

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.   

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.” 

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use. 

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.” 

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips. 

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.” 

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you. 

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up. 

There’s no way. 

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??” 

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns. 

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about. 

What a jerk. 

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand. 

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile. 

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district. 

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you. 

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression. 

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone. 

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs. 

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression. 

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!” 

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not. 

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy. 

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst. 

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again. 

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over. 

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.” 

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.” 

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.’” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips. 

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart. 

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze. 

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained. 

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity. 

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?” 

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.” 

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk. 

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.” 

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away. 

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

 “The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–” 

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”  

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you. 

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo. 

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull. 

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling. 

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you? 

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body. 

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him. 

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence. 

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue. 

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip. 

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…” 

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms. 

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin. 

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway. 

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.  

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath. 

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots. 

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement. 

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined. 

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him. 

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally. 

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now. 

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier. 

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…” 

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning. 

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him. 

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room. 

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses. 

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.” 

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)… or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck. 

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect. 

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged. 

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.  

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?” 

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder. 

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!” 

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you. 

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you. 

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him. 

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin. 

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants. 

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites. 

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.” 

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?” 

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.  

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him. 

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.” 

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls. 

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher. 

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm. 

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat. 

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips. 

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’” 

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands. 

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze. 

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you. 

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…” 

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you. 

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder. 

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach. 

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud. 

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air. 

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets. 

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body. 

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you. 

That change is all it takes. 

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars. 

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break. 

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals. 

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom. 

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties. 

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?” 

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form. 

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

[aminiatureworld]

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

 Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

 Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing  to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

 Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.  

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Frailty, thy name is woman! {2}

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, masturbation, mentions of miscarriage, depression, and suicide.

This is dark!doctor!Steve Rogers and soft!Peter Parker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You have an illness that can’t be seen or named. Doctor Rogers is your last chance at a cure as your loving husband tries to rediscover the woman he married.

Inspired by this ask

Note: It took me a while to find the energy to post this, I’m sorry. It’s been hard since I lost my job to wanna do anything but you guys are so sweet and I appreciate that. It’s set in the 1900s so keep that in mind! I hope you all like the last half.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You slept better with the effects of the medicine but your energy continued to wane. You went for a walk on the two mornings after your second meeting with Dr. Rogers but returned with only the strength to reach your bed. Your chores once more lacked and you forgot to write out your thoughts.

And Peter. Your husband tried so hard to be patient, to be understanding, and yet that cloud of disappointment hung over you. You wanted to be better for him so why was it so hard?

As the date of your next appointment approached, you were little better than you were before the first. You had ceased following the physician’s instructions and instead found yourself hopeless and hazy. Your tears stained the pillow beside your head and tainted your tongue.

“You will be late,” Peter sat beside you on the bed as he held a steaming cup of tea, “please, you’re doing so well.”

You blinked and said nothing. You were doing so well but just as before, it all fell apart. You couldn’t figure out why it always ended up like this. You couldn’t figure out your own mind and why you couldn’t just be what every other woman was.

“Doctor Rogers can help you. He’s been helping you, dear,” Peter cooed as he rubbed your arm, “and I love you, I’ll always love you, even through all this.”

You frowned and covered your face. He heaved and the porcelain cup clinked on the night table. The bed shifted as he bent forward and held his head in his hands.

“I’m out of ideas, dear,” he said, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

You rolled over and hid from him. You sobbed into the pillow. You didn’t know either.

“I have to go to the laboratory. I cannot be late again,” he stood and you listened to his light footsteps, “I will inform the doctor you are unable to attend. Perhaps we might reschedule.”

You stayed silent and he touched your shoulder. He bent and kissed the crown of your head. 

“I’m not giving up,” he swore, “I won’t.”

He left, reluctantly, and your body shook without restraint. You cried into the pillow case as you were racked with a pain so deep you weren’t certain it could ever be drawn out. The sense of helplessness was suffocating. It was as if no matter how hard you fought, it would never be enough, you would never be enough.

🩺

You languished as you had. The hours passed as the sunlight shifted on the walls and sent lines through the windows. You sat up and drank the cold tea and stared at the curling metal of the bed frame. You could hear birds outside and smell the pollen of new flowers but it only made the knot in your chest tighten.

Then a knock came, distant but firm. You tilted your head, numb and lost as it came again. You looked down at yourself, the wrinkled front of your sleeping gown and the brown stain from the tea dribbled from the brim of the cup. It sounded again and you winced.

It didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. You got up slowly and stumbled around the room. You went through to the front room and neared the door as another rap shook it. A figure stood on the other side of the frosted glass. You touched the latch and trembled as you thought of turning it.

“It’s Doctor Rogers,” a voice called through the door, “will you let me in, ma’am?”

You closed your eyes and slumped. You shook your head and carefully turned the lock. You tried to stand straight and opened the door. Dr. Rogers’ smile fell as he saw you. His fingers clutched the handle of his leather bag and he pushed his shoulders up.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Why are you here, doctor?”

“Well, you did not come to the office,” he said bluntly, “it did give me concern.”

“I have a headache,” you lied, “did my husband not make another appointment?”

“A headache?” he wondered doubtfully, “you might try mint or willow bark for the ailment but I do not think it effective on a conjured malady.”

“Doctor,” you fluttered your lashes guiltily.

“You might assuage my doubts and my concerns if you let me attend to you,” he said, “just to be certain you aren’t in dire condition.”

You looked down and stepped back. “Come in, doctor,” you murmured, “I apologize I did not come--”

“And what have you done these last weeks?” he ignored your apology, “have you been taking exercise? How have you been eating? Have you attended any of your chores?”

Your silence was an admission but he did not show the disappointment he expected. Instead his face softened with empathy as he set his bag down on a round table beside the upholstered chair and opened it.

“You have not even dressed yourself, I can guess at how you fare,” he said, “so I think we might take a different approach to your treatment. We should build to your independent healing although I do expect you to still attempt to adhere to my prescriptions.”

“Doctor?”

“Many contemporary physicians and psychologist suggest that hypnosis might be beneficial to those with your affliction,” he brought out his pocket watch and looked to you, “if you would lay on your back,” he pointed to the sofa.

“Hypnosis?” you drew your brows together, “I don’t think, well, I don’t know much about it.”

“It is nothing, it is like sleep. I think it will help with your nerves,” he looked at the watch, “you trust me? I am a doctor and I would not do anything but to help you. Why, I came all this way just to see that you were well.”

You felt a pang and realised how inconvenient your negligence was. You went to the couch and did as he said. He pulled the chair to the edge and sat. He held up the watch and let it dangle.

“All you have to do is focus on this,” he tapped the golden front, “and count and breath in time with it.” He began to swing it back and forth as your head was propped up against the arm of the couch, “think of nothing but the watch.”

Your lips parted and you grimaced.

“I know how it seems but haven’t you ever wanted to just not think? Perhaps that is the issue, that you never stop,” he said, “so, humour me.”

He kept on and you followed the watch with your eyes, back and forth, breathing in and out, one, two, three, four, five… Soon your vision blurred and your head felt light and then all your worries were gone. You laid there, blank and bleary, but free.

His voice was distant and the click of the watch as he set it down was almost indiscernible. “That’s it, you just relax,” you felt a tickle over your knees. 

You didn’t move, you realised you couldn’t, and that the tickle was your sleeping gown. The fabric was drawn above your knees and a warmth glided up your calf. You were moved down so that you laid entirely flat, your leg slipped over the side of the couch.

“You must stay relaxed and breathe,” Dr. Rogers said as you felt his hand creep higher on your leg, “isn’t it nice?”

He pushed between your thighs and turned his hand. His flesh was hot against yours.

“We must relieve the tension,” he purred and slid his fingers along your cunt. Your eyes rolled back and you purred at the riling sensation. He poked between your folds and you felt a flush spread across your body, “just breathe.”

He rubbed along your opening and over your bud. His motion was steady as he swirled his fingertips and you felt yourself growing slick. You could think of nothing but your breath, but the burning in your core as he stoked it. You gasped and your heart beat faster as he played with your clit. It never felt so good.

He pressed a finger to your opening again and slowly dipped inside. He drew in and out several times and added another, bending both as he kept his thumb to your bud. He rocked his hand and your entire body with it. Your voice was loud and yet it was beyond your control.

“Let it go, let it all go,” he cooed, “come on.”

You moaned and it grew to shrill cry as a strike of lightning shot through you. Your body contorted as your core bloomed and fire swept through your veins. He guided you through the paralysing pleasure and stilled his hand only as the ripples faded.

Slowly he drew his hand from your cunt and sat back. He hummed and your skirt was pulled back down your legs. He took a deep breath and snapped his fingers. Your eyes shot open and suddenly the room was clear again.

You sat up, startled, as if awaking from a dream. He caught your shoulder and eased you back against the arm.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t explain how you felt.

“What I just did, you can do, you should do, at least once a day,” he leaned back and rubbed the wool of his trousers, “it is perfectly scientific. There’s have been a slew of recent studies which find that the female orgasm can be very impactful for woman who suffer so.”

“But, isn’t it--”

“What is wrong about it? It is human nature and if God made humans with that nature, it cannot be so bad. You have not spent seed without fruition, you have only used what creation gifted you,” he said, “but consider how you feel right now. You feel better, am I correct?”

You stared at him and bit your lip. You did feel lighter, you felt more awake, and you felt peaceful.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I suppose I do.”

“Great,” he clapped his hands and stood. He took the watch and returned it to his bag, “should I remain a time? We might talk?”

“No, no, you should go,” you stood unsteadily, “you have other patients and I’ve kept you so long.”

“It was not so long,” he said as he closed his bag, “but if you would that I go, I will.”

You nodded and saw him to the door with a frantic farewell. You locked it behind and turned to lean against it. Your heart was racing again. You thought of Peter, of his dismay that morning, of all those times you’d been unable to hold him.

🩺

You were hesitant at first and you resisted the doctor’s suggestion. Several days passed but the writing, the tea, the walking, none of it helped and you were so inconsistent, it was as if you hadn’t changed at all.

Then one morning, Peter left, again after a hopeless plea for you to get up, and you laid under your shroud of self-loathing and longing. You thought of it for a while, debated it in your head, and as you felt beneath your sleeping gown, the guilt nipped at your neck.

You tried to recall what Dr. Rogers did and tried to mimic him. As you played with your bud, your fingers were soon guided instead by the delightful stirring in your core. You shuddered as you slickened and you kept on twirling and twirling. Your breaths grew harried and you gulped as your voice spilled forth in weak moans.

Your toes curled as your hand moved faster and you came in a tangle of linen and wool. You pressed your hand flat to your pelvis and went limp over the mattress. You were floating, flying, and you felt as if you might do anything.

After a moment, you sat up and glanced around. You wiped your wet fingers on your nightgown as you stood and made the bed carefully. Then you went to the armoire and pulled an outfit from its depths. You dressed one piece at a time and looked at yourself in the mirror. That was something.

The hours before Peter’s return had you anxious but not deflated. You felt lost in the kitchen as you prepared the evening meal and when your husband returned, he smiled and searched as if in disbelief.

“Dear,” he kissed your cheek and you latched onto him to kiss his lips instead.

“Peter,” you said breathily, “I’m so sorry.”

His cheek twitched and he caressed your cheek, “don’t be.”

“I don’t know if I’m better but… I’m trying,” you said.

“I know,” he wrapped his arms around you and drew you close. His eyes flitted down to the bodice of your dress, “I am such a fool, I didn’t even say how wonderful you look.”

You laughed softly and cradled his face between your hands, “Truly?”

“How could you ever marry me? You’re so beautiful.”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I wouldn’t any other.”

🩺

The tentative touching became a ritual. You were both pleasantly surprised and confused by the effects. You never would have thought of the act, you never would have attempted it after years of being forbidden from it. You felt even your marital bed was restrained by the laws of propriety.

But as you toyed with yourself, you wanted more. You wanted your husband again, just as you had on your wedding night. So you waited again with dinner cooking in the oven and greeted him in a dress you hadn’t worn since before you married.

After he ate, you tidied up and read a newspaper in the upholstered chair. For a moment you stared at him and felt a twinge. Dr. Rogers had sat there and he had… you had let another man… but he was a physician and it was only treatment. At least, he made it seem so.

You went to the bedchamber and undressed. It was a tedious process and by the time you wore nothing but your chemise, you were ready to snap the laces of your bodice. You set aside all your layers and checked your reflection. Did he still want you like that?

You peeked outside the door and called to him. He looked over his shoulder and folded his paper as he stood.

“What is it, dear?” he neared and stopped short as you stepped out from behind the door frame, “oh.”

“Husband,” you stepped closer and bit his lip.

“Are you certain?” he asked as he touched your chemise.

“Certain. I love you,” you said.

“Sweetheart,” he crashed his lips into yours and snaked his hands around your body.

He ran his hands down to your bottom and scooped you up. You cried out as you parted from his lips and he carried you backward into the room. He dropped you on the mattress and tore off vest. You got to your knees and reached to unbutton his shirt. You helped him undress eagerly, adding your chemise to the pile as he climbed up after you.

He rolled you onto your back as he leaned over you and kissed you again. His hand ventured over your chest and he felt your breasts with a purr. You grabbed his hand and guided it lower, pushing his fingers between your legs. He hummed into your mouth and let you lead his fingers, taking the motion on his own as you opened up to him.

You clung to him and brushed your hand against his cock. He groaned and teased you more eagerly. Your thighs clamped around his hand and you came as your body jittered against his.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed as he slowed his fingers, “are you alright?”

“I’m wonderful,” you gripped his cock and stroked him, “I want you.”

He moved between your legs and bent over you. He felt along your folds and spread you as he found your entrance. He pushed inside you slowly and you leaned your head back with a sigh. He sheathed himself entirely and stopped as he bent to kiss your neck.

“I love you,” he uttered as he tilted his hips.

“I love you, too,” you grasped his biceps, wiry but thick, as he rocked into you.

He nuzzled along your throat and jaw and nibbled at your lip as he sped up. He growled as writhed against you, hungry and desperate. You clung to him and moved your hips in time with his. You wanted all of him.

Your bud rubbed against his pelvis and you urged him on with breathy pleas. You hooked your legs around his as you chased another ascent and came as your nails sank into his shoulders. He kept his motion and lifted himself to look you in the eye. He watched your dazed delight as he began to tremble.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he stammered and closed his eyes as he hung his head. He gave several short thrusts before he collapsed and rested atop you out of breath.

“Peter,” you played with his hair as he tickled along your side.

“You can’t,” he said, “you can’t love me as much as I love you.”

🩺

For the first time, as you sat in the waiting room, you didn’t feel nervous. You were anxious to speak to the doctor but you didn’t dread it. Those last weeks had seen so much change, they could have been years. When your name was called, you stood and crossed to the nurse. You were shown to the room and you sat on the couch.

Dr. Rogers entered shortly and greeted you with his usual manner. He stopped however before he sat and considered you. He squinted and smirked.

“You’re well?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said with a smile.

“Things have… changed,” his lips straightened and he sat slowly.

“Some,” you said, “and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve followed my advice?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing more around the house and even writing here and there. I went for a walk--”

“You’ve been touching yourself regularly?” he asked abruptly.

You blanched and gave a nervous chuckle. You didn’t expect him to be so forward.

“Well, yes, I have a little,” you admitted, “as you bid.”

“Mhmm,” he poked his cheek with his tongue, “and it’s helped?”

“It’s not the only thing but--”

“Does it feel as good when you do it alone?” he interrupted.

You shook your head and blinked at him. You were confused. His methods were different than any other doctor you’d seen but his questions, that look, it was off.

“What do you-- I don’t understand,” you pouted, “I… it was part of the hypnosis. You were showing me what to do.”

He shifted on the stool and sighed. He tapped his heel on the floor. His gaze was discerning and crippling. You couldn’t read his expression but it wasn’t his usual smile.

“I asked you if it felt better when I did it,” he intoned tersely.

You were quiet. You looked at the door and swallowed. You stood and he did too.

“We’re not done. We’ve barely begun and you’re being evasive. Should I be concerned?”

“I don’t… understand. You’re angry with me?” you asked.

“I’m asking you questions that you won’t answer. As your doctor, I need to know these things,” he insisted, “now sit down.”

You lowered yourself slowly and stared at him. He strode over to the sofa and sat beside you.

“Did it feel better?” he asked.

You had tried to forget that afternoon, even as it forced itself into your mind whenever you let your hand wander. You were afraid to mention it aloud. Afraid to admit that you felt guilty for it.

“I… I suppose it did,” you said quietly.

“Mmm, and your husband, how are you getting along with him?”

“Well, I think, we have been… closer.”

“You’ve engaged intimately?”

“Uh, yes, he is my husband so yes,” you sputtered.

“But you hadn’t before,” he prodded.

“It was different before,” you said, “I am doing everything you’ve said.”

“I didn’t tell you to fuck him,” he snarled.

“I am married to him,” you scoffed, “what did I do wrong?”

“You’re not ready. I am your doctor, you need to consult with me,” he glared at you as your eyes settled on your lap.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t realise.”

“If your treatment is to be effective, you must follow my advisory,” he huffed, “how many times?”

“How many-- not more than five?”

“You’re uncertain?”

“I don’t keep count, doctor, I… I’m very confused.”

He pushed his head back and tilted it side to side as he cracked his neck. He jutted out his jaw and blew out air.

“When you came to me, you were broken,” he sneered, “but now you think you know better than me. Remind me again of your credentials.”

“I didn’t…” you stood and he caught your arm, “Doctor, I do not think this is appropriate and I cannot understand your anger.”

“Why have you come to me?”

“Pardon?”

“Why have you come to me?” he repeated.

“I, um, to get better. To treat my sickness, as you have and I am so grateful--”

“This is your fourth visit and you think yourself healed?” he snorted as he rose and loomed over you. He faced you as his nostrils flared, “you came to me so that I might help you conceive a child after you failed so many times.”

“I--” your voice caught in your throat and your eyes burned, “Doctor, that is unkind.”

“In my professional opinion, you are not the reason for your miscarriages,” he pulled you to him and gruffly cradled your head in his large hand, “my examination did show you more than capable of birthing a healthy child.”

“Please, what are you--”

“I think it is the seed that is bad,” He swung you around so your middle hit the examination table, “it is a theory but we can test it.”

“Doctor,” you tried to push yourself away from the table and he caught the back of your neck, “ahh, please--”

“Be quiet,” he hissed, “you make another noise and I’ll have to say you’re hysteric. A woman like you won’t last in the sanitarium.”

You whimpered and hung your head as you slapped your hands on the table. He squeezed your neck and leaned in.

“Don’t move,” he warned, “this is for your own good, for your health. You want a baby, don’t you?”

You sniffed and your vision blurred from your tears. He released you and his hands trailed down your corset and to your skirts. He lifted them and reached beneath to tear down your bloomers. The action jolted you and he stood, untangling them from your ankles with his foot. He kicked your boots apart and pressed himself to your back as he bunched up the layers of your skirts.

He pushed until you bent over the table, leaning on your elbows as his hot breath encircled you. He felt along your bare ass and tickled the top of your thigh. He pinched you and buried his face in your neck. He growled as he held your skirts in place with one hand and unbuckled his belt. You sobbed and his demand that you shut up was muffled against your collar.

He opened the front of his pants and slipped out his hard member. You winced as you felt the tip brush against your bottom and he shuddered. He bent his knees and guided himself down to your folds. He forced you to arch your back as he searched for your entrance and lined himself up.

He pushed until his tip stretched you and you clawed the white sheet across the table. He slid in another inch and you whined. He slapped his hand over your mouth, his other planted beside yours on the table and bucked. He impaled himself completely, thrusting you onto your toes.

He pulled back and rutted again, hard and impatient. Your hips slammed into the edge of the table with each tilt and you cried into his hand as he forced you lower over the sheet. He pinned your shoulder with his other as he turned your head, your cheek against the linen as he rocked into you.

He let out thick breaths, withholding grunts as he sped up. He pounded into you and the noise of your flesh filled the small room. You closed your eyes and his fingers crawled down along your back. He bent over you as he reached beneath you and found your bud among the layers.

He rubbed you until your sobs were wild moans. He kept them stifled against his palm and hammered against you. You were close to coming as your walls clenched around him and added to the pressure of his fingertips.

“This is what you want,” he whispered in your ear, “hmm, that’s all you need, a child. You will be a wonderful mother…” his voice fizzled and he barely swallowed a grunt, “so sweet, so sweet.”

He snarled and rammed harder than before. Your body quaked as you succumbed to the ripples flowing from your core and you leaked pleasure around his cock. You mewled into his hand and he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“This is the baby you wanted,” he growled and jerked sharply.

He spasmed in a series of hectic thrusts and slowed. He exhaled and removed his hand from your mouth, wiping it on the sheet as he pushed himself up. He slipped out of you and groaned at the sensation. You felt his cum spill out as he dropped your skirts and left you against the table, his belt clinking loudly in the silence.

“I’ll have you scheduled for another home visit,” he went to his desk and inked his pen as you rose, “and you will track your cycle so that we might be sure. Timing,” he tapped his fingers as he finished scribbling notes and stood straight to face you, “is essential.”

You bent to gather your bloomers and he came close. You cowered and he snatched the cotton from your grasp. He put them to his face and inhaled.

“You smell as sweet as you feel,” he turned and bent to shove your undergarments in his bag, “I will make certain your next appointment isn’t so far away.”

[darknessisafriend]

Can you do some Commodus smut, please? I’m missing my kingggg ❤️

And here you go for Commodus smut! I love our Emperor so much, I can’t stop writing him! <3<3 I hope you will enjoy it, it got a bit kinky^^ 

The One rule:

“Good day ladies and boys! I hope you are all doing well today.” Said Commodus with a charming smile as he entered his harem, his icy eyes scanning the room; three hundred of his men and women who were only there to pleasure him and bring him comfort when he needed; perfect. And it wasn’t so bad, they could basically do anything they wanted in their free time, being educated, relaxing, and as the privileged of the Emperor, they could get anything they wanted, he always made sure to pamper his darlings. They all smiled and bowed to the handsome Emperor, a passionate man who was not to be fooled and who could kill when vexed. But he was a good lover, very good, who knew how to reciprocate the pleasure he received, who was generous, benevolent and even tender with those he appreciated the most. As long as you respected the rules established, whatever they were, everything went well.

“Who would please you today, Caesar?” asked the eunuch who watched after the harem.

“I am looking for my favorite.” he smiled, he was eager to see you and spend time with you. In dark corners some would say he had fallen in love with you, lately you were the only one he asked for. But no one would ever dare to say it aloud, the Emperor was very private about his harem and it was forbidden to anyone to mention it and even less when it came to you, his most precious possession.

“Y/N? Let’s see where she is…” the man bowed to the Emperor and went to look for the woman he desired and Commodus decided to do the same, hoping to surprise you. Perhaps you were having a bath, putting on makeup, reading…he was curious. He kept his impatience inside, it could be fun, search for you, he felt like a predator looking for his prey…you were a rare bird, beautiful, smart, strong-willed; he was addicted to you.  

As he silently walked in the corridors of the harem, he heard noises and a man such as himself instantly recognized moans of pleasure. His blood started to boil in his veins, the one rule that was not to break was being broken. Quickly, he found the direction of the noises and came bursting into the room and here you were, his favorite girl, betraying him by breaking the unique rule, receiving pleasure from something else than him, pleasuring yourself.

You jumped when someone burst in your room, and you looked at Commodus in fear as your recognized him, he was furious.

“Commo-…!” you couldn’t say more that he had crossed the distance that separated him from you, he seized your chin, looking at you in the eyes.

“Don’t call me by my name! not when you have broken the only rule you had! Only I can give you the pleasure you seek, have you forgotten?”

“No, Caesar.” You tried to shake your head; you didn’t think he would catch you.

“And you are lying to your Caesar. If you remembered, you wouldn’t have dared to pleasure yourself. I think a good reminder is needed.” His eyes were burning, and a sly grin formed on his lips, you didn’t know whatever to be afraid or excited, but you knew you would regret your mistake. The Emperor soon dragged you out of the harem, not caring about how uncovered you were, but after all, people knew that if they laid their eyes on the favorite, they would die in the following minute.

“I don’t want to be disturbed. Under no circumstances!” he said as he crossed the door leading to his quarters. The guards nodded and closed the doors, whatever happened, you would be at the mercy of the Emperor and no one would intervene…

Commodus threw you on the bed “Take off the rest of your clothes.” He ordered you as he angrily paced in the room, why would YOU, of all of them, betray him, the one he lo-…preferred. You didn’t protest and undressed, you had all the liberties and privileges you wanted against one simple rule…and you had failed, succumbed to temptation.

From the corner of his eyes he noticed you were finally naked and he stopped, his eyes detailing your body, damn you were gorgeous, he would even dare to say you were more beautiful than Venus herself.  However, you felt almost uneasy, intimidated by his intense look “Lie down, and don’t move.” He ordered you next, his tone dangerously low. You quickly obeyed, not wanting to anger him more, you laid still, waiting for him to do whatever went through his mind. Before you could think further, he sat astride you, his weight on your body preventing you from escaping him, pressing his hardness against your core, made you moan in need but he ignored it. You watched him as he took off his neck scarf and then grabbing your wrist, tying them together above your head with the piece of cloth, tightly enough for you to feel punished. He brought his lips closer to your mouth but never kissing you “I am going to make you regret your insolence.” He said in a dangerously calm tone; you wouldn’t know him, you would fear for your life, but Commodus knew the arts of punishment, in its many forms…

“I’m sorry Caesar, I…” you couldn’t finish your sentence, he put his index on your lips to shush you.

“I am not asking you to apologize Y/N. It’s too late for that. Now, I forbid you to talk unless I ask you to. Clear?”

You nodded vividly “Yes, Caesar.” And he pulled back, his eyes detailing your naked body once again, all the marks of arousal were still present on your body, your nipples hard, your pupils dilated, you were se beautiful when you felt pleasure; a shame this time it wasn’t because of him, he didn’t like it at all and had to change that.

“Only I have the right to arouse you.” With his fingertips, he brushed over your so inviting nipples, watching your breath quicken as his fingers slowly slid down your body, your lower belly and stopping right above your pelvis, your eyes didn’t leave his hand, how bad you wanted him to touch you more, by reflex you lifted up your hips which made him chuckle.

“Tsktsk…so impatient already my dear.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval, a sadistic grin on his face before spreading your legs to have a full view on your womanhood. You couldn’t help but blush, despite being used to be intimate with the Emperor, his intense and hungry look on your private parts was…overwhelming and you found yourself quite ashamed of your state, wet and eagerly waiting for satisfaction.

You watched as Commodus lowered himself on you; you already knew he wouldn’t take off one single piece of clothing, simply because you would like it too much to see him naked. You swallowed down as he started to place slow, languishing kisses on your thighs, moving closer to your womanhood, inch by inch, your inner thighs, then your pelvis, his kisses lingering on your skin for long seconds, he inhaled your scent, the one that made him crazy like an animal.

“Oh Y/N why must you do this to me…” he groaned, he craved to fuck you and yet, because of your disobedience he had to punish you, not able to enjoy you as much as he wanted.  “Your pussy is Caesar’s, just mine…not even yours. Mine.” He tilted his head and kissed it full mouth, making you gasp in surprise, oh by the gods, that mouth! You clenched your fists, pulling on your binds as if to free yourself, you wanted to bury your fingers in his dark locks. You whimpered as he slowly licked from down to up, the tip of his tongue teasing your hole, how bad you wanted him inside you but he would not even finger you, especially in that mood.

“None of them taste like you do…you are intoxicating….addictive…” he murmured between laps, his hands maintaining your legs wide open, amused by how you kept moving your hips in need. You closed your eyes, starting to moan as he lightly sucked your clitoris.

“Oh C-…!” his name died in your throat, remembering his order, you much preferred his torture rather than having him not touching you at all. And as a warning, his tongue stopped its work for long seconds, you let out little cries, desperate for more. Commodus watched you from between your thighs, pleased by the despair he generated in you.

“Feel it Y/N this pleasure, this craving for satisfaction…only I can give it to you.” He murmured against you core before continuing again, skillfully licking and sucking the sensitive skin, making you moan again and more and more, louder each time, you wanted to scream his name, your Emperor to whom you were so devoted to. You squinted your eyes shut, your mouth agape as you felt him moan while pleasuring you, it was known, Commodus loved pleasuring with his mouth, to taste those he desired and it excited him beyond reason.

And how much he loved your taste, he could do this all day along and forever, you made him lose his mind. And how unfortunate it was that he had to punish you and just as he felt you were about to climax, he stopped, moving his mouth away from your soft spot.

“Com- Caesar please!” you cried out in frustration, tears prickling in your eyes, you heart was racing and you rocked your hips in hope for satisfaction but nothing, he didn’t touch you and instead watched you with some satisfaction. You were so sorry, you just wanted him!

“Oh I will please my little dove but before that…tell me who were you thinking about as you disobeyed me. And then I will decide the end of this…” His hand went to your womanhood, the tip of his fingers teasingly brushing over your clit, he knew how to make you talk and he could keep it going for hours. You whimpered, a tear running along your cheek, you just wanted to beg him to grant you orgasm.

“I-I….was thinking about you Caesar…always…only you.” You answered honestly, your voice trembling. He briefly froze, surprised by your words. He was flattered and almost felt dumb, actually you had never betrayed him, he occupied your thoughts constantly, you only had desire for him and even in pleasuring yourself, you only allowed the thought of him to grant you this pleasure. “I-I’m so sorry Caesar…I wanted you so much and I didn’t want to disturb you in your work..I-” he didn’t let you finish you apology that his mouth was between your thighs again, he was eagerly continuing his divine work on you but this time he won’t deny you what you sought. What a fool he had been!

“You have been such a good girl, my dear…so good!” he said as he pleasured you, getting lost in his actions, his arousal was at its peak, terribly excited by your confession and how much you craved him. And soon you came, in a relieving scream of liberation, finally free from all this desire you had trapped inside you and Commodus followed you, your only pleasure made him come. You panted, recovering your breath for long seconds and starring into each other’s eyes.

Before he pulled on the knot of your bindings and freed you, happily letting you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers burying in his locks “Thank you, Commodus.” You breathed with a pleased smiled and he grinned in return, you had the most beautiful expression on your face each time he made love to you.

“Next time you desire me so much Y/N. Have a eunuch call for me.” He leant closer to you, capturing your lips for one of his very tender kisses “It will be a pleasure for me to fill in all your desires.” He promised you softly, and here’s why you loved him so much, a man of extremes, capable of violence and sadism and yet would be the most possessive and tender lover.

Commodus harem: @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @skaravile @niniitah-ah @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @charlie-sisters @ohcarlesmycarles @rajacero @hopelessdisasterr @stellargirlie @rosebloodstuffandthangss @clowndaddyfleck @jaylovesbats @dreamingmaria @sagyunaro @just-a-fucking-comedy @spaceinvader @radio-hoo-ha @lady-carnivals-stuff @sierraclegane @legojorny @lemondedeniname @hvproductions @syvellsworld @papercut-paranoia @jokerflecker @beautifulyoungprospect @bring-your-holy-water @five-miles-over @yukis-writing @fawnsing @morrisonmercuryphoenix @fly-like-a-phoenix @the-joaq-is-extra

[mooniehsh]

Just like he was before

Lucifer meeting his daughter for the first time

Obey Me! Lucifer

 (OC’s daughter just to be clear) 

Warnings: A little bit of angst, just a tiny portion of it... yeah... 

(I’m really sorry if the characters doesn’t seem like themselves. It’s the first time i tried to write something with them, and I’m not that sure that i make everyone accurate) 

I'm 99.9999% sure that i might write about this again. It’s such a fun concept, and i apologize about my grammar. English is not my first language. 

Enjoy! 

- Made by: Ace (MT)

Gif not mine

Lucifer was livid, but that was not the exact word to describe how he was feeling at this moment even though it was close to it. He was anxious, waiting, and walking towards Diavolo’s chambers with stress and curiosity running through his veins and messy heart. Anticipating on firsthand that the prince was calling only to inform him about a problem with his brothers, or maybe a usual meeting about work, and that was the main topic he had on his mind when he called him... but no, luck doesn’t exist for him. So when Diavolo spoke about his lover as the central problem in this call he was speechless.

Not to say that he was terrified in a way...

But he decided to calm down, thinking of a reasonable cause of why the young prince had called him specifically about her.  And when he reached some possible motives, he decided to shut up and not bring expectations to the matter.

 Let it be a surprise", he thought immediately when fateful scenarios crossed his mind, she is not in danger I know it. Did he believe in his own words? This time: no, he did not. But as he said before, let fate decided for him and not bring speculations to an uncertain future. 

And the great moment had to come. He walked towards the entrance, heart on the mouth, begging himself to behave and not lose his mind in the process. 

“She is a strong woman. whatever is the matter I’m sure is not that complicated” 

But only if he knew exactly what was behind the doors he definitely would be beyond terrified, maybe even confused

And what a lovely surprise, that’s exactly how Diavolo view everything in the room: confusion and pure excitement of the creature sitting on the edge of his sofa, waiting for a word to be spoken.

But it was the other way around, he wanted to hear her voice, know more of the girl who reminds him of an old friend… how strange, he thought her parents liked to talk. 

- My lord, I think we should call Lucifer a second time

 - There is no need. He will be here soon, fear not my friend-The butler nodded with his head, looking over the woman in silence one more time. And he smiled, laughing inside for the similar looks she shared with the new guest coming to the palace in no time. – So, you said your mother wasn’t coming to meet us. Is she sick? -Diavolo asked for the third time, making the young girl exhale for the curious question. She did not want to talk, but she did not have to answer with words, so a simple shake of her head was enough.

But was Diavolo satisfied with it? Of course not. So, with that in mind, he asked again -Does she knows that you’re here? -She let escape a simple laugh from her lips, opening her mouth, making the prince wait anxiously for her voice to be heard once again.

- She’s occupied with mortal duties -She responds, gaining a sly grin from Barbatos, who was curious to know if the girl was frightened of Diavolo thanks to the fact that she had not made eye contact with the man in this whole time, except when they introduced themselves of course. But deep inside, he believed that it was more out of respect. Lucifer sometimes does that, so it would make so much sense if it were the actual reason…

How thrilling the day was going to be…

- She is a doctor, am I right? It is a good profession, more with these difficult times, don’t you agree? – She nodded, playing with her phone, cursing under her breath at the moment she noticed that it was completely dead, no battery that would help distract her from the intense gaze of the demons over her body

Mother was right about this; it was going to be a little uncomfortable…

- Mortal phones do not work down here, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. -She threw an apologetic smile at him, making eye contact for the first time in that long-languishing moment. And with that, Diavolo chuckle filled the room, spreading the humor towards his butler and creating a weird tension on her shoulders

She did not understand how her dear mother passed one whole year with these kinds of things… she was a warrior with no doubt

-  Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your father? – He had no idea… hearing the same thing from close people with knowledge of the realms was overwhelming and frustrating. But it was something she learned to normalize, until now, of course. She was there to discover for herself the truth in those words, to see if they were lying or not.

Her father was a great enigma that never had a beautiful or tragic response, and if no one dared to respond it then she was willing to sacrifice her life to search for the long-waited question 

And the same thing goes for Lucifer, whose palms were sweating from the nervous heat he was feeling inside, but that didn’t stop him from knocking on the door three times. He waited, standing in front of the golden gate, quieting his mind with delayed work, supposing this was something insignificant and momentary

But the surprise was more than alarming to him than the call that the prince dared to make minutes ago. His eyes grew bigger in honest astonishment, locking his lungs with the thin air at the simple sight of a woman, whose steps were getting closer to him in the same moment when Diavolo said something about taking her to the house of lamentation.

Lucifer was not listening to one word that fell from the mouth of his dear friend. For the first time in millennials, he never expected to find someone so intriguing yet so dangerous to meet. And his mind finally exploded when Barbatos said something about a beautiful family reunion, pointing out how much of siblings they could be if the daughter- father thing never existed between them.

- You call me for this…? -  His tone lacks the true feelings he had inside, making him sound so cold and sour that the girl couldn’t help but mock him with a confused grin. So, he was her father? 

The great lucifer was nothing other than a tired and young man whose first impression was to criticize the meeting they were having? No wonder why uncle Sol used to talk so bad about him…

 -It was a surprise, I’m sorry if made you panic but I believed it was something very important… Lucifer, meet Miss Van Doren, your lovely daughter- And the world stopped only for him to digest that tiny information.

It was her; it looked like her, but somewhat different from what he expected… 

His beloved told him about the pregnancy long ago, something he agreed to have but for details like work and difference between worlds he never got the chance to see the beautiful newborn that he created with the love of his life. He only saw through photos her baby face, how pretty she was with so little age that made him question if it was his child. 

But when his work started piling up, Lucifer had little time to check his telephone, decreasing the chats he used to have with his lover, and with it, the photos of her daughter… 

Sometimes he even forgot that he had a phone in the first place

And so, he never got to know what his beloved daughter looked like today. Until now… 

-Luci? Are you listening to me? 

-Yes! Yes, I am… -He was not, Diavolo knew that immediately. Anyways, he repeated the same instruction twice, making sure the man in front of him was paying close attention. And this time, Lucifer heard everything - You want me to take her to the house of lamentation? - Diavolo nodded with a smile, barely touching the back of the girl, pushing her closer to her father and the man was more than astounded right now. 

Who would think that a demon like him gave life to someone that radiates the aura of an angel? She was a Nephilim, of course, but he was so sure that she could be easily mistaken by an actual angel with just one glance at her 

She was the vivid image of him, and it was scary. How her eyes were so dark but yet full of light, looking at his reflection in them, knowing that she was doing the same in those ruby orbs of him. And her hair, falling almost over her shoulders with gracious black curls, just like the ink in the books he used to read to her mother. The length not too long or too short, resembling a little like her mama at least. 

It was like looking at the mirror, looking at his figure when he was part of the celestial realm. Is this possible? He was a demon now, but here she is, radiating such a pure aura and soul… 

-The others might want to meet their niece, so it’s a good opportunity to know each other. But save some space for tonight, I need to know more about her… you never told me about your affair with Jules- Because he never craved to mix personal stuff with work, but it looks like he needs to do it now thanks to this little secret. -Anyways, I hope you have a wonderful day. -And with anything else to add, they started walking towards the exit, being the palace a place so quiet that even their breaths sounded like huge lightning bolts. 

Lucifer initiated the conversation, not even daring to see the girl at his side, and it looked like she didn’t want to do the same. 

-Your mother… why did you come alone? How did you enter? 

- My uncle helped me… -Her velvet voice took him by surprise, but her words charged against him so fast that he stopped, analyzing the phrase with a confused look in his factions. 

- Uncle? - He raised a brow, while his daughter stopped her steps a few meters away from him but with a low voice she assured him that this help didn’t come from his brothers. 

- Solomon, you know him, right? -Of course, the shady magician always comes to help this tiny family. First, it was Jules when she messed up something with chemicals, and now, his child. 

- You have no idea… -Should she ask? In her mind, that attitude was kind of similar to the man mentioned before. Do these two men hold a grudge against each other? She never questions Solomon about these types of things, more because he never answered… -And your mother? Did she agree to you coming here? All by yourself? -She inhales thin air, looking at his figure getting closer and closer. In every book or website, they described this man as intimidating, but he wasn’t. Hell, she even thinks her mother can do the same thing and she would be terrified knowing it was a sign of frustration… 

- … I sneak out, so no, she doesn’t know that I’m here. - And a side of him appeared at the terror her mother must go through if she found out. That was somewhat inconsiderate on her part, to leave without telling her where she was heading 

- Do you have any idea of how frightened your mother must be? You cannot come to the Devildom like this, it is very irresponsible. You could have been attacked by another demon or worst, your aura would easily attract them, and nobody would know you were here. -She wasn’t awaiting him to scold her in their first meeting, but due to the circumstances sooner or later it would be expected to happen. 

So she waited until he had finished. And when his lips sealed in a line, looking with the ruby eyes the dark ones she smiled somewhat uncomfortable 

- Mom is working right now, in urgencies… she never goes home until 7 pm, so I got my chance- It wasn’t enough reason, but for now, he let it slip, knowing that Diavolo and Barbatos were lurking in the shadows only to hear everything they discussed. They needed privacy, so he guides the girl until the breeze of Devildom hit them. 

Lucifer put one of his hands on her back, a little hesitant, he doesn’t know if she would like it or not, he is cautious as always. Although seeing how she didn’t mind, he kept it there, still guiding her through the desolated streets of Devildom 

- Even if your mother is busy, you shouldn’t do things like this. It is dangerous, any demon could have their way with you if you are not careful… - She lightly snorted, interrupting his speech, making him feel annoyed by her action

- Father, I’m not dumb. I did not ask anyone who passed in front of me to help me. Sol would never put me at risk and besides, I appeared with Lord Diavolo… I know what I’m doing here, so do you. -And before he even dared to say something more, she continued, hugging herself because of the weather. It was cold, and her little jacket wasn’t enough to cover her body. She wishes she had listened to Solomon before she agreed to just go in without a word. - And you can lecture me with mom at your heart’s content, but I was tired of waiting for this day to come… -Lucifer squinted his eyes just a little, not sure she was trying to say. Her facial expressions were completely the opposite of her words, making her voice appear like she was struggling with something but the moves she made didn’t say the same. She seemed calm, oddly calm 

- How so…? - But he was the same, curiosity in the voice of the demon but serenity in his posture. She had to admit, they were similar in some things… - You couldn’t wait to come and risk your life without telling anybody?

- Mother said we were coming in summer, that I would meet the great Lucifer and finally get the answers I deserved. Guess what? It’s already Autumn. She made that promised more than once, and every time I was ready to go and meet you, she got a call from the hospital. How convenient… -She whispered something, an insult maybe, he couldn’t listen properly, and her body failed to hide the frustration she had inside. - I couldn’t bear to stay and keep this waiting on and on… 

-You don’t have much patience, do you? 

- I do have patience, but everything has its limits - Her footsteps were pretty slow until she stood in the middle of the sidewalk, with expectations low of what he could tell her. This demon saw in her the same posture he had when the world burned down under his feet, right at the moment, he rebelled against his father for something he thought was wrong to do. The difference? She didn’t radiate rebellion or wrath, just interest, curiosity, maybe a little of exasperation. 

What a surprise… 

-I waited almost 17 years just to see you, so don’t give me a lecture for wanting to meet my own father. - Lucifer grinned, taking his coat and putting it on her shoulders, blocking his gaze with hers. The world talked, both of them discussing something incomprehensible like past and future, so odd to everybody else, but for them?

 It was just like looking at the mirror, one that never ages, the reflection that would never let the memories escape. And the similarities with the celestial Lucifer didn’t stop coming to his exhausted mind. She wasn’t corrupted, she didn’t have desires that could identify her as hostile or something related to that keyword. She was half-human, with a soul that any demon would love to devour, with ordinary wishes like any other person in her world… she was just like he was before 

- To be this our first encounter, you don’t look like someone afraid to defy me. - Just like her mama taught her, this man is not easy to talk to. She would play his cards, even if she doesn’t know what she is doing, even if she is not conscious of it. - It reminds me of someone… 

- Mom? - The sweet and velvet voice appeared, and he took her hands, walking towards home, glazing at her from time to time. - or it is you father? - that word was still foreign to her tongue, something she had never used even if somebody demands her to pronounce it. But here she is, trying to accustom her mind to do it one more time. Deep inside she liked the idea to finally call someone like that. And luck was on her side… 

- Both, more your mother than anyone else to be precise. She was more curious than Solomon if I remember right… -And she asked again inside of her head if the man fought with her uncle. However, she should save that question for another time - She was always intrigued even by the little things that life throw at her. I don’t know how she survived so many things. It wouldn’t be a surprise if you have the same strength Louise -and her heart stopped beating, making her feel the cold of Devildom get through her clothes. Lucifer took her features for a single moment, wondering what happened to make her look so startled.

- you know my name… 

- You thought I didn’t? -She nodded, so determined that it surprises him. Did Jules never tell her about him? - I gave you the name, right when you were born… she never talked about me? 

- Not much… but mom always loved to do it, the problem is that she is very busy with work and I don’t like to interrupt her with my curiosity… sometimes - He sighed, noticing the way her eyes inspected the trees, how her hair becomes a mess, making it hard to distinguish her locks from the coat. Meanwhile, the girl called Louise was with an infinity of questions haunting her mind.

Was he the one who gave her that name? It wasn’t a joke? Oh, god, she did not know whether to thank or question Lucifer even more...

- So you know very little 

- I wouldn’t put it that way… it’s more like I know who you are, what you do but I don’t know why you leave my mother, why did you leave me? - The big question comes to his ears, making him get away from her only to open the gate of the House of Lamentation. And the name was exactly what he felt: he lamented not being there for her mother or Louise. She was a woman now, not entirely but she was older enough to understand trivial matters of the realms. - She told me you were a workaholic, but I don’t think that’s a good excuse to not come and see us… right? -The silence weren’t deadly, but her patience surely took that attribute until the lips of her creator parted to explain himself. 

- Your time is very different from mine. The clock goes slower than yours, and I’m… -His pause was something he didn’t want to express. And his pride was a rare feeling he hated right now, where deep down he tried to fight it, but it was useless -I’m the same man your mother tried to tell you about… There’s a lot of things that requires my attention, and I’m just one solitary demon. -There was something behind it, she could feel it, she didn’t buy it. 

- That’s your excuse? - Lucifer groans reach her ears, making her back up immediately, not trusting his movements one bit - Mother suffer every time I see her calling you or texting you, we deserve something more than that cheap apology… -She was walking in dangerous territory, and still feels right to her to fight the devil himself. Man or demon who wanted so badly to let her know with the exact words how true the past was for him, how things went down hill so easily. 

- I love your mother, I really do. So sorry to disappoint your expectation in my answer, but I never lie when it comes to her, you should understand that. Some things escape my possibilities… - Louise hugged the coat, even more, drifting her gaze away from him. And Lucifer sighed, making sure no one was around, not even his brothers spying through the windows. 

With another apology, he tried the last thing he would ever do in front of others, being the avatar of pride and a man who craved for a gentle touch but always deny the act when is in front of him. He hugged her, causing the girl to gasp when she felt the embrace surround her. So sweet but bitter, like cold natural lemonade made at home. She finally felt the love of a father, making the wishes she kept inside her mind for so long a dream come true, achieving something both mirrors craved so much. 

- Life is cruel, that’s how it works in our lives ,dearest one… - Louise had a strong grip on him, not wanting to let go of this moment, clinging to his father fearing this would be the last time even though is the first. And Lucifer never wanted to protect someone of corruption so much as he does right now, being her daughter so precious that he desired to see her live peacefully, not worrying about demons and wars between species… but he knew that would be impossible. Still, he would protect her and her mother just the same way he wanted to protect Lilith, and he would not make the same mistake twice 

- I never wanted this meeting to be so depressing -Lucifer offered her a wide smile, being so close to open the front door, to show her this other life she never got the chance to meet 

- Let’s call it a heartbreaking reunion, not depressing -She nodded, agreeing with his words, returning the smile but in a smaller way. And with everything settle, he greeted her inside of the House of Lamentation with hidden enthusiasm, making some of his brothers appear and see the arrival of the oldest.

They were more in shock than Lucifer when they saw her, instantly loading the girl with questions or simply trying to guess what she was. 

Surely her soul was something from an old world. Nephilims were resurfacing, it was expected to the others feel this little and simple curiosity, but being so close to the girl, inspecting her to head to toes were a little… extreme 

But still, she let them do what they wanted to do with this curiosity. She let them say whatever they wanted to say. It was fun for her to listen to stupid theories, to look at them right in the eye and see them struggle while trying to decipher who she was and why she was there 

It was fun until someone broke the tension over the brothers, being Lucifer the judge of this behavior towards his daughter. She didn’t mind if we put aside the number of times some of them dared to get too touchy with her. She even smiled when one of the brothers said something towards Lucifer about her mother 

-Angel or not, you shouldn’t be so concerned about this girl. She is not Jules, we know how to behave -Asmodeus smiled with his words falling in the air as he speaks. Louise’s laugh reached the ears of the brothers, making the action contagious to her father, being the two of them a rare pair. 

-Of course, but being his daughter might complicate some things- Levi choked with his saliva, Beel gasped, Mammon screamed some completely incomprehensible things, and the others only remained in silence. Her eyes laid upon the blonde demon who wanted so badly to say something, being interrupted by others every time he had the chance to express his mind- And no, I’m not an angel

-I knew Jules had a child, but I thought it was with Solomon… -Louise was the one now who choked, looking at Asmo and Lucifer a few times, noticing that the raven-haired demon looked a little concerned about this new information 

-...I don’t have brothers. Noah is adopted, and my mother never had another lover -Asmo mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ , and Satan finally spoke with such an intensity in his eyes. She waved at him, receiving a tiny smile from his part. And every pair of eyes laid on him

-She is gonna get mad, you know that Louise? -Of course, he was going to say the same thing Lucifer did. She knew what she was doing, she knew the risks, she was not a stupid mortal who acted on impulsive decisions all the time. 

-You know her?! Since when?! -Lucifer’s curiosity grew bigger, knowing exactly what was going on in his house, taking a few steps closer to the avatar of wrath. Please, Louise begged, do not start a conflict

-He had been visiting Jules, am I right? - The older spoke, and Satan wanted to laugh, but he remained in silence, with his gaze on the girl who expresses between her eyes and hands, that he must  leave the wave of a fight at this moment. 

-I’m not like my other brothers who forgot to go and pay a visit to our favorite doctor. Even if she was busy… -The others started with the questions one more time, shushing immediately by Satan or Lucifer. Louise only understood that some of them were with little time to see her, and others like Beel and Asmo knew about this girl. Funny, she doesn’t remember when did they go...

Maybe she was very little at that moment, she would ask her mother later if she survives… 

-… So, just to be clear: you are telling me that this girl named Louise is your daughter, and Solomon got a son which he adopted, and now she came to see you because she wanted to meet you, and Satan knew all this time and never say anything to Lucifer for respect to what Jules decided to do with her love life. And we never got to know this information until now- When Levi put the words from his perspective it seemed like a total disaster, her mind would be if Louise were him.

-It is partially your fault, for not wanting to go and see Jules. It is cruel of your part Levi -The demon made a pout when Satan spoke about him, while Mammon looked at the girl with wide eyes, realizing that it was obvious the family she was part of. 

-Hell, you are really Lucifer’s daughter. You don’t even look like your mother at all… why you never said anything?! -Lucifer groaned, crossing his arms over his chest, annoyed by all this questioning and discussion. He thinks it would be worst with Jules, knowing that if both of them arrived like a big surprise the brothers would be screaming like maniacs about this matter… 

They were yelling, that’s correct, but in a more calming way… sort of. 

-At least she got her beauty - Louise’s cheeks tainted a faint red over them, looking adorable to Asmodeus, the demon who spoke seconds ago. - Yes! She has her beauty! Oh, you look like an angel -And like an instinct, she hides behind her father, who grabbed her hand and took her upstairs while the other demons tried to stop him 

-We are not done here Lucifer! Why Jules never said something about her? It’s her daughter! 

-Mammon, that’s enough! All of you should at least give her space and not asphyxiate the poor girl! -The oldest of the brothers yelled with no effort, reflecting his molested attitude and tired mind in this discussion - You want answers? Ask Satan, I’m trying to find them as well -And with nothing else to add, he kept walking with Louise right behind him 

-Why not ask Jules? She will arrive in this home in less than an hour, so it’s a good opportunity to explain all this mess. Right, Luci? -His grin grew bigger, and the girl shivers with the simple idea of the disastrous war her mother would do when she sees her. 

-How are you so sure? -A low voice that took everybody by surprise, asking for the truth in the words of Satan. The man stood there for a few seconds, getting closer and closer to Louise, putting his hands right on her shoulders, gaining a warning from Lucifer. He didn’t care, he had more connection with this girl than he, so why bother? 

-Louise, your plan failed in just one simple error. You didn’t tell Noah about your escape right?- She had everything under control huh? Yeah, that was lie… a big one - ‘Cause I don’t know you, but he is always with you when your mother leaves you alone at home. Sometimes he even invites you to see what he had created with Solomon… -And she always calls him if she doesn’t respond to her messages. She totally forgot about him...

-She called him, fuck, she did… - A mortal who sounded and looked like an angel cursed with the simple idea of forgetting a tiny detail. Satan laughed, biting his lips while his brothers looked around kind of confused, except for Lucifer who desired to shut everything off only to have time alone with his daughter. It was annoying as always, his inexistent bad luck trying to steal precious time with his new family

- … But… you know what? I think it was a good idea that I forgot about Noah… -And Satan’s eyes went wide with her words -She owns me an explanation after all, and in this place, no work would not let her get away without telling me the truth…. So let her come -She had questions just like these brothers, and she finally would get those precious answers she deserved. 

But she wouldn't create a war for it, on the contrary, she just wanted peace and to live with both of her parents present in her life. It was the correct thing to do… 

And Lucifer could only think how oddly similar it was, how her determination put her in such a high place where there’s no visible fright for defying her creator. Just like he was before the falling… 

[miraclesabound]

✨Creator Tag Game✨

Hi there! I was tagged by @finn-ray-nal-beads​ in the game listed below. I think almost everyone in our network has been tagged before, so I’ll only add a few tags of my own. The stories have their warnings when you navigate to them.

Tags: @morby, @thepilotanon, @mariesackler, @sacklerscumrag, @clumsycopy

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

My top five favorite works of this year (in no particular order)

1) “I’ll Get Back to You” - “Marriage Story”, Charlie Barber x Reader, published April 20, 2020.

This was my first work in the “Marriage Story” fandom, and it’s helped me solidify my writing process for this year - outline, outline, outline! Keeping my head organized during a global crisis has been a struggle, and figuring out what sequence I use to get words on paper was a relief, let me tell ya.

2) “Scorched Earth” - “Hazbin Hotel”, slight Angel x Husk, published July 20, 2020.

I was stunned at how well this was received. It has the most hits by far of anything I wrote this year, and while I’m glad it resonated, I’m still shocked. I guess the people were really craving Hazbin angst after the “Addict” video dropped.

3) “Fangs and Other Things” - “Star Wars” Vampire AU, Kylo x Reader x Male OC, published October 29, 2020.

Originally just called “Fangs”, an incomplete version of this story had languished in my drafts for...I want to say four years or so, am=nd I fully expected that it would stay there forever. I had started it at a time where I really wasn’t comfortable writing smut yet, and as such, I thought if I tried to finish it, it would still seem amateurish. Imagine how delighted I was to return to the draft and realize, “Hey, this is still workable!” The day I published it was dark, gray and rainy, and the mood really helped me push through to get the story done before Halloween. I’m still pondering if I want to write a non-smutty sequel about Reader, Kylo and Jason figuring out how this relationship is going to work.

4) “Art Imitates Life” - “Six The Musical”, No Shipping, published November 4, 2020

“Six” has definitely been one of my comfort fandoms since the year started, and the “Queens Fight” is one of my favorite scenes in that show. Even if it was exaggerated, it still felt like a real argument that could happen between six wounded women, so I wanted to see if I could play it a little more “true to life”. Honestly, Marlow and Moss did most of the work for me here!

5) “And Number Three Has The Magic Touch” - “Hazbin Hotel”, Charlie X Vaggie, published February 20, 2020

I’ve written longer-form stories for this fandom, and I still enjoy those immensely, but it’s like I said to one of the commenters who checked in on this story, “domesticity is the good shit!” I have a soft spot in my heart for Charlie and Vaggie, even if Alastor is usually my “comfort” character, and what can I say - I want our girls to have nice things!

[desperationandgin]

Strawberry Wine (Part 1, Chapter 8)

Rating: Mature

Author: desperationandgin

Previous Chapter

Also Read on: AO3

Summary: Jamie and Claire know summer is coming to an end and so, they make promises.

Chapter 8: Picnic

I didn’t like that the days were rolling by; lazy while we lived them, but slipping away too quickly. In just a small handful of weeks, Jamie and I would be parting for school. My way of coping was to dwell on it in the moments when thoughts drifted freely (just before sleeping, any time I was supposed to be poring over historical documents with Lamb, the quiet between heartbeats as I lay resting on Jamie’s chest) and my stomach could tighten and flip with dread and anxiety.

Jamie didn’t seem to think about it at all, by contrast, living for each moment we could successfully capture as our own. We were currently back at the loch we’d visited once before, this time with a picnic in tow. On Sundays, he didn’t have to worry about any chores outside of feeding the animals; so after Mass, our time was our own. Both of us were in the bed of his truck now, a towel spread beneath us while we dried from swimming. Somewhere, a bird called in the distance, and one closer returned the cry.

“Greylags,” Jamie commented beside me, one warm hand coming to rest against my stomach.

“Greylags?” If the word sounded breathless (because my stomach clenched at his touch), he was kind enough not to call me out on it.

“The birds, ye ken? They mate for life. It’s why they call to one another now, as the day grows later.”

I turned my head toward Jamie to look at him, reaching out to push an errant curl behind his ear as I completed his thought. “They call one another home.” Lifting my head, I closed the distance between us, kissing him sweetly.

“If one dies,” he began, the words falling softly along the curve of my jaw, “then ye must kill the other. Otherwise, it will languish and grieve itself to death.”

Closing my eyes, I felt the weight of his words tug my heart deeper into my chest, as if an ominous thing had been put into the world and I was shrinking away.

“Don’t talk like that,” I whispered, feeling the words get stuck in my throat, not meaning to sound quite as affected as I had.

Immediately, Jamie pulled me into his arms, his hold tight and protective as he dropped a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Sassenach.”

For a while, neither of us said anything and I listened as the greylags drew closer to one another, their cries finally mingling into one.

“I’m not ready for the month to be over,” I confessed, shifting in his arms so that I lay tucked against his side.

He sighed heavily, my own body rising and falling with the movement. “Neither am I, Sassenach. But we must; if ye dinna become a nurse, who’ll patch me up when I need mendin’? Farm work is dangerous, ye ken. So, ye must go, my bonny smart lass.” Finishing his declaration with another kiss to the top of my head, he tightened his arms around me.

“Will you send me things? From France? Letters, I mean.” As we spoke, my fingers drew lazy figure-eight patterns on his abdomen.

“Oh, aye, I’ll write to ye, often as I can. Call ye too, when ye can take a moment. And perhaps I’ll slip ye a box of fine Parisian chocolates,�� he pondered, tugging my hand up in order to kiss my knuckles.

Deciding it might not be too depressing to drown my missing him with sweets, I sat up fully, tucking my legs beneath my body as I reached for our picnic basket. “Care for a light supper?” I asked, pulling a bottle of whisky out and handing it over before also retrieving a loaf of airy, crisp bread, a small bowl of butter, and a jar of raspberry jam. Digging around, I found the dull knife for spreading and began preparing our bounty.

“‘Tis no’ traditional,” he teased, reaching to dip his finger into the jam jar and getting a swift swat to the hand for it.

“Don’t stick your finger in there, you’ll spread germs,” I scolded.

“My sincere apologies, doctor. In any case, I hope ye plan to feed me more than bread.”

Laughing softly, I tore off a piece, slathered it with butter and jam, and handed it over to him. “I spoke to Mrs. Crook before we left. She agreed to keep plates warm for both of us in the kitchen.” By the time we arrived home it would be well after dark, but the older woman hadn’t seemed to mind the request. In fact, she had been the one to suggest a small appetizer, as it were, before driving home.

“Ye do think of everything, then,” he said, even while leaning close to kiss me softly.

“I try. It isn’t hard to want to take care of you.” Eating my own prepared piece of bread, I watched as Jamie took over, taking his time to prepare a crudely torn chunk for me when I was ready.

“Who’s going to patch you up while we’re apart?” I asked, looking down at the bread in my hands and then back at him, attempting a smile, some sort of brave face.

“Dinna plan to need patching up, Sassenach. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He tried to wink then, and he was so horrible at it that the gesture broke all of the tension I’d inadvertently created.

“You are awfully bad at winking. You look like an owl. A very handsome, curly-headed owl.”

The grin Jamie gave me was so easy and carefree that all of my lingering feelings of dread dissipated, and we finished our snack. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the sky exploded with brilliant pinks and purples, the light reflecting off of the water. We sat on the tailgate of his truck, whisky behind us, just within reach. Save for a sip each, it’d hardly been touched, both of us too preoccupied with kissing and touching.

“Before we leave, I aim to have ye,” Jamie promised, the words whispered against my ear and causing heat to pool between my thighs. “But first, I had an idea for us both. A way to keep me close, even when we’re apart.” As his lips pressed to the curve of my neck, I closed my eyes, mostly processing his words.

“What do you mean?”

With one more chaste kiss to my cheek, he pulled away from me, reaching into his pocket and procuring a small knife. “I’d like ye to carve your initials into my palm, as a reminder of ye each time I look down at the scar.” Taking my hand, he guided my fingers to the mound of his own, below his thumb. “Here, Sassenach.”

It was a lot to process, and I cleared my throat, wetting my lips and looking down at his hand. “You want me to cut you?”

“Dinna make it sound barbaric. I only want to look and see that ye’ll be mine, mo nighean donn, as soon as I return.”

“I always will be,” I breathed out automatically, meaning that I would always be his. “Would you want to--to carve your initial into my hand in return?” My eyes moved back to his, and I could see what he wanted, clear as day.

“Aye, though what I want is naught compared to what you want, Sassenach. I would never demand it from ye.”

“No, I want to.” My response was automatic, giving him an answer without much thought of any consequences. I only imagined the evenings I would lie alone, far from him, but could touch a scar and imagine he was doing the same. I imagined moments of doubting myself, frustration with school, but that I could look at a jagged J and know he’d be proud.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I added, “I haven’t cut someone deliberately before.”

“I suppose ye’ll have to begin somewhere, aye? What with taking care of people. So, let me be the first.”

His eyes bore into mine and I felt my heart constrict tightly in my chest . He was my first in many different ways, but the only important one was this:

Jamie Fraser was my first love. As far as I was concerned, he would be my only.

Taking the knife he extended, I fumbled behind me for the whisky, turning to look and dousing the blade after testing its sharpness. “Ready?”

Leaning back against the side of the truck, Jamie held his hand out to me. “Aye, carve yer wee initials, Sassenach.”

“All of them?” I pressed further, positioning him comfortably before bringing the point of the knife to his skin.

“Only the C, I reckon. I dinna plan to keep ye as ‘Claire Beauchamp’ for long.”

I felt color rise in my cheeks and my chest flush at his declaration. “I expect you to keep that promise.”

“I swear to ye, I will never make a promise I dinna intend to keep. Ever.” I looked up as he wet his lips before leaning down to kiss me firmly.

Once he settled again, I began the delicate work of sliding the point of the knife over his palm and curving it in a way that resembled a ‘C’ before the blood flow was too much to see what I was doing. When he passed me his handkerchief, I pressed it to the wound and raised his arm slightly, all the while holding his gaze.

“That didn’t hurt too badly, did it?”

His fingers laced with mine as he leaned forward again, kissing me with all the fervor of a man starved. When he pulled back, he finally answered the question. “Just a wee pinch, then it was over,” he promised, untangling our hands and pulling the cloth back to reveal my handwork. It was a passable half-moon shape, in any case, and I offered the knife back to him.

“Your turn.”

When he took my hand, Jamie brought it to his lips first, kissing the spot he was about to cut into. Then he marked me, the sting of the blade making me wince only a little, but enough that he worked quickly. Instead of pressing the cloth to my minor wound, he poked at his own until the blood began flowing again. Then he pressed our palms together, fingers interlocking once more.

“I swear to ye, Sassenach, when your four years are done, I’ll marry ye come hell or high water.”

I couldn’t control the width of my smile, ducking my head as I struggled to tame it. My gaze was soft — fond and full of love for him — when I eventually let my eyes wander over his face.

“You never proposed, you know.”

For a moment he looked stunned, then tilted his head in reflection. “No, I suppose I didna, did I?” Clearing his throat and pressing our hands a bit tighter together, he looked at me seriously.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, ye’re the only person I want to spend my days with. The only person I want to see the world with, and yer face is all I see when I imagine what my future holds. So, Sassenach.” He paused there, his words hanging in the air for two heartbeats. “Would ye do me the honor of making me yer own?”

I’d thought, for some odd reason, he would try to make it funny; so with such a question, I could only look at him, stunned into silence as my eyes filled with tears. When I spoke, my voice choked off with emotion and I had to begin again. “Yes, Jamie Fraser. Yes, I will make you mine.”

Before I could think or say anything else, Jamie’s mouth descended on mine, and as we came together, I laid back in the truck, pulling him with me. He wasted no time in pushing the material of my bathing suit down my shoulder, kissing bare skin before carefully removing the entire garment from me, leaving me naked beneath him, nipples taut against the breeze of the cooling night air, pinpricks of anticipation raising goosebumps along my arms.

The invitation of my breasts was too much for Jamie to resist, and he made me moan with abandon, having a small love affair with each nipple, his own bathing suit discarded. I was taken by surprise when one hand snaked between us, thumb gliding heavily, perfectly, against slowly fraying nerves. When I was slick enough, he withdrew his hand, causing a whimper replaced by a keening cry from me, back arching as he filled me. Once he was as deep as he could go, I pulled him down, hooking my hands behind his head for a slow but thorough kiss. My tongue explored his mouth until I was short of breath, and only then did I lay back again and allow him to move.

Each time he pushed his way inside of me, it was as if pleasure sparked and burned up my spine, climbing to an inevitable drop point. Bliss tugged at my body like an undertow, and I gladly gave in. When I shattered around him, muscles tight and insistent, fighting to pull him in deeper, he exhaled loudly, groaning words in Gaelic before withdrawing and spilling against my thigh. I kept him close, though, hands tangled in his hair.

Once I could breathe again, I pressed my lips to Jamie’s ear, murmuring quiet promises I had no intention of breaking.

“You are mine, right now, as of this moment,” I decided, resolute. “Our wedding will only be to make things legal, but you are mine.”

His head raised, holding my gaze before kissing me languidly. “Blood of my blood and bone of my bone,” he recited, kissing my neck now. “Scottish vows,” he further explained.

“I like that.” I murmured, fingers trailing up and down his side. ”Blood of my blood and bone of my bone,” I repeated. I didn’t expect him to go on.

“I give ye my body, that we two may be one.”

Again, I repeated Jamie’s words, and the next set.

“I give you my spirit. Until our lives may be done.”

NEXT CHAPTER

[superiordragonlorde]

Awkwardly Well Meant

April 4: Meeting | Hydrangea | Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung (the song I listened to while writing this)

Here’s day 4 for @kiridekuweek2k19 . I hope you all enjoy!

     Eijirou slumped in his chair, hoping to hide his burning face behind his biology textbook. His two friends, Denki and Mina, were standing next to a student’s chair, chatting loudly to its occupant. Eijirou peeked over the top of his book, catching sight of green hair that spread out in soft curls, a sparkling, dark green eye, and a freckled cheek bunched from a bright, beaming smile. He slid further down, quietly groaning.

     Hanta, another one of his friends, gently patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, man,” he half-heartedly soothed. “Maybe they won’t screw over your chances of ever getting a date with this guy.” Eijirou only responded with a strained whimper.

     While Denki and Mina were good-hearted, well-meaning people, they lacked every form of grace and subtlety that all humans needed. That did not bode well with Eijirou whose main goal, at the moment, was to not embarrass himself in front of the cute, green-haired guy sitting two rows ahead of him. And those two were only known for their embarrassing tactics.

     Eijirou straightened up long enough to drop his forehead onto his desk, accepting defeat. There was no way the guy wouldn’t think he was some kind of weirdo now.

     Their biology teacher, Aizawa, stepped through the doors a few moments later and Denki and Mina scrambled to their seats.

     “What did you two do?” Eijirou hissed at them, using the settling of forty students to drown out his words.

     Denki flashed him a wide, smug grin from the other side of Hanta. “We helped you score, dude!”

     Eijirou plopped his head into his hands, groaning a pained, “Oh no.”

     “We didn’t try to talk you up,” Mina promised, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Since, y’know, it didn’t work that well last time...” Eijirou shot her a disgruntled glare. She gave him a sheepish smile in return.

     “But we got some info on him,” Denki spoke up, bouncing a little in his seat. “He’s majoring in botany and he really likes flowers.”

     “Yeah!” Mina perked up, squeezing Eijirou’s arm. “So take your suave, Cassanova self and woo him with your flower skills!”

     Eijirou’s heart skipped at the idea of using flowers to charm the guy sitting in front of him. It sounded romantic— hell, it sounded manly— but something sank into his chest, weighing it down as Aizawa started class.

     He didn’t have any flower skills.

     When his classes had ended for the day, Eijirou had sprinted across campus to the library to grab every book about flowers he could find. He couldn’t waste a single moment. The guy he was crushing on was the sweetest, kindest person he’d ever met. If he wasn’t already spoken for, someone else could come in at any time and—

     Eijirou screeched to a halt, a stack of books teetering in one of his hands while he reached for another one on the top shelf.

     What if... what if he was already with someone?

     Eijirou shoved his hand into his pocket, fishing frantically for his phone. He whipped it out and called the first person in his recent contacts list.

     “Hey, Kiri!” Mina greeted on the other end.

     “Is he even single?!” Eijirou blurted out, earning a few glares and shushes from other students. He murmured a small “Sorry” and slipped to an abandoned corner of the library.

     The other end of the call was silent before Mina shrieked, “Holy shit, Kami! We fucking forgot to ask if he was single!” There was a languished cry in the background and Eijirou was fairly certain he heard Hanta murmur something similar to, “That was, literally, the most important question you should have asked.”

     Eijirou groaned and ran his free hand down his face.

     “Wait, wait!” Mina suddenly shouted, startling him. “Bakugou says he is— Wait, how do you know?” There was a pause and a gruff voice reluctantly mumbled something Eijirou hadn’t been able to catch.

     “OH MY GOD!” Mina squealed, cackling maniacally. The sound of Katsuki snapping at everyone almost overpowered the hysterical laughter filling the phone’s speaker.

     “Woah, wait, Ashido,” Eijirou piped up, glancing around the library to make sure no one could hear the delirious screeches and giggles coming from his phone. “What’s going on?”

     “Kiri, you’re not going to believe this!” Mina crowed. “Holy shit. So, turns out Bakugou is childhood friends with your man.”

     Eijirou tensed, a mixture of dread and excitement churning in his stomach. “Really?! Put him on the phone! I need to know what kind of flower he likes— Wait, no, ask him if he’s single— No, no! Does he even like guys? Oh shit, I didn’t even think of that—”

     “Calm down, man,” Mina comforted, chuckling. “Bakugou said he’s not going to help you win over that— what did you call him?— ‘useless shithead’.”

     “That’s rude, bro!” Eijirou cried, earning more glares and hushes.

     “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Mina huffed, a tinge of humor laced into her tone. “Anyway, he said yes, he’s single—”

     “Because only a fucking idiot would even think about dating him,” Katsuki screamed in the background.

      “Love makes people do crazy things,” Hanta supplied. There was the sound of grunting and scuffling on the other end.

     “Watch the lamp!” Mina warned, then sighed. “Anyway, yes, he’s single. Yes, he likes guys. And no, Bakugou won’t tell you what kind of flower he likes because, and I quote, ‘That fucking moron loses his shit over any kind of flower so it shouldn’t fucking matter.’ Does that help?”

     Eijirou exhaled slowly and rubbed his temple. “Yeah, it does. Thank Bakubro for me, would you?”

     “Sure,” Mina chirped. “Ah, shit. I gotta go— I SAID WATCH THE LAMP!” The sound of something breaking cut through the cacophony. Eijirou heard a whispered “Oh fuck” before the line went dead. He pulled his phone away to stare at the screen, saying a silent prayer for a quick and painless death for his friends before he went back to his search for books on flowers.

     Eijirou had always known there were a lot of flowers in the world, but he’d never realized how many there were. He was officially pulling an allnighter now with trying to find the perfect flower that conveyed the message ‘Hey, I’d really like to get to know you, and, if you’re ok with it, I’d like to become more than friends in the future, but it’s totally ok if you don’t feel like that because having you as a friend would be just as amazing too.’

     Eijirou dropped his head onto the book laid open in front of him, hand resting limply atop his laptop. He hadn’t wanted to risk having his message misinterpreted so he’d double, triple, quadruple checked every fact on flower symbolism he could find.

     There were so many different meanings, and different countries had different meanings for the same flowers. Eijirou felt like he’d just crammed for a test.

     Wait... didn’t he have a test in Mr. Yamada’s class today?

     Eijirou groaned loud enough that his roommate, Katsuki, chucked a pillow at his head as punishment for waking him.

     The next time he had biology class that week, Eijirou was nursing a horrible cup of coffee Denki had offered him. It was bitter, but at least it kept him awake. He’d been getting only a couple hours of sleep the last couple of nights, stressing over the perfect flower to give to the shining, green-eyed man in front of him.

     “Guys!” Mina greeted happily, slipping into her seat next to Eijirou. The redhead groaned, his muddled head ringing from her voice. “You’re not going to believe the scoop I got yesterday!”

     “Got something good for your article in the school newspaper?” Hanta asked, peering over Eijirou.

     “Nope!” she tittered. “Even better! Guess who I have in my literature class.”

     “Mineta?” Denki hazarded.

     Mina crinkled her nose. “Ew, no. It’s Uraraka! The girl who sits next to your lover boy.” She nudged Eijirou, wiggling her eyebrows.

     Eijirou tipped his head up enough to look at the brunette sitting next to his crush. She looked like she had a bubbly personality with pink, round cheeks. She talked excitedly to the green-haired student, hands waving in the air. He listened to her with rapt attention, adding in small tidbits of conversation when she paused long enough for breath.

     Eijirou felt his face burn as he flushed. “That’s cool,” he replied tiredly.

     Mina shot him a small pout. “Ok, I know you’re tired, so I’m going to pretend that you didn’t sound completely unfazed by the fact that I talked to your crush’s friend. She could, literally, make or break your chances at going out with him.” A shock of anxiety coursed through Eijirou’s veins.

     “But anyway,” Mina continued on, unaware of the panic seizing him. “She actually came up to me first, after class, and said she saw you making ‘doe eyes’ at him and was wondering when you’d make a move. So then I told her that you were trying, but got a little stuck with trying to confess through flowers—”

     “Ashido, please,” Eijirou begged. “You’re too loud!”

     “Oh!” she yelped and dropped her voice down to a whisper. “Sorry. So, she told me that Midoriya really likes—”

     “Wait,” Denki cut in, brows furrowed. “Who’s Midoriya?”

     “The guy Eijirou’s crushing on, you idiot,” Hanta hissed, smacking him lightly on the back of his head.

     Eijirou dropped his head onto the desk, feeling like smoke was coming out of his pores. “Guys, please,” he whimpered. “He’s right there!”

     “Wait,” Denki proceeded on. “Did you even know his name?”

     Eijirou turned his head to find his friend looking at him with concerned confusion. “Of course I did!” he lied. He had actually only known the name “Deku”. It was a nickname Katsuki and the brunette called the green-haired guy. He had heard Aizawa call his real name once, but he had been too captivated by the soft-spoken man’s splattering of freckles that seemed to highlight the stars in his eyes to actually catch it. He hadn’t heard anyone else say it after that and he had been too embarrassed to ask.

     Deku Midoriya. It wasn’t his full name but it was better than what he’d had.

     “Sure,” Mina hummed, unconvinced. Eijirou shot her a half-hearted glare, but she waved it off. “Well, anyway, Midoriya really likes bigger flowers, so if you can, try to get those.” She gave him an encouraging smile and the soft scowl on Eijirou’s face quickly melted away.

     “Thanks, Ashido,” he murmured. “Does he like a specific color?”

     Mina pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “Nope, she didn’t tell me he had a favorite color. She just said make sure it’s a natural color. He doesn’t like ‘fake flowers’, or something like that.”

     Eijirou nodded, tiredly making a mental note. “Ok.”

     Aizawa entered the classroom at that moment and Eijirou tried to drag up every ounce of willpower he had to make it through the lecture.

     After a few more days of debate, Eijirou had finally decided on a flower. He’d made a list of large flowers and then had the sudden realization that, as a broke college student, he didn’t have a lot of money to spare for them. That had set him back half a day, which had been filled with bemoaning and Mina bringing him ice cream. But after more consideration and a bit of scouring, Eijirou had found the perfect flower to give to Midoriya.

     Eijirou huffed a soft laugh as he skipped out of his dorm, still finding it amusingly fitting that Midoriya’s name had the kanji for “green” in it. It was almost like he had been born to fit into his surname.

     He shook the thought away as he headed to his biology class, taking a small detour along the way. There was an older woman that lived across the street from the campus that he tried to wave to whenever he walked by. She was usually outside, tending to her multitude of flowers or sitting in her rocking chair on her porch, reading, knitting, or thinking. She always returned his waves with her own, a bright, wrinkled smile shining on her face. He’d spoken to her a few times too in passing and had formed, what he would like to think as, a solid acquaintanceship.

     She sat on her rocking chair this morning, the newspaper she held almost hiding her completely from view. Eijirou cleared his throat and called out from the street. “Good morning, Ms.Shuzenji!”

     She folded down her paper, a soft, worn smile on her face. “Good morning, Eijirou,” she greeted in return. “How are you doing, young man?”

     “I’m doing pretty good,” he grinned, fighting past the nervous twist of his stomach. “Actually, I, um, kind of have a favor to ask of you.”

     Shuzenji arched a thin eyebrow and set her newspaper to the side. “Is that so? What can I do for you then?”

     Eijirou unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck. “W-well, I, uh— There’s a... person that I really really like and they’re really into flowers. I thought I’d give them one, but I’m kind of short on cash, so I was wondering— I mean, I don’t want to bother you, but I just... I was kind of hoping to, um—”

     “Young man,” Shuzenji interrupted. Eijirou snapped his mouth shut with a loud clack. “I’m an old woman who doesn’t have a lot of time left on this world to waste. Why don’t you stop dancing around the subject and go ahead and tell me what I can do for you.”

     Eijirou swallowed and took in a steadying breath. “Could I have one of your flowers to give to them? I can pay you back, it just might take a little while. Or I can clear out the weeds, or help you replant some of your flowers, or—”

     The woman’s warm, gentle laugh made the words on Eijirou’s tongue stagger to a halt. She waved a leisurely hand and slid off her chair with creaking joints, grabbing her cane. “There’s no need, young man,” she consoled. “What type of flower were you looking for?”

     “I, uh—” Eijiriou cautiously crept down her sidewalk, anxiously waiting for Shuzenji to suddenly change her mind. “I was hoping to have one of your hydrangeas... A purple one, please.”

     Shuzenji gave him a questioning look. “That flower has quite a few different meanings for it. Are you sure you want to give something that’s a symbolism of the cold shoulder to someone you’re interested in?”

     Eijirou felt his ears burn. “I, um, I read it also means honest emotions and wanting to get to know someone better. Did I... did I get that wrong?”

     The woman’s smile slipped back onto her face, making the wrinkles around her eyes more prominent. “No, that’s also true. I’m glad to know you did your research, young man. Now, let’s see what we have here...” She grabbed a pair of delicate shears and slowly made her way down her porch steps. Eijirou trailed behind her, twisting his fingers. Shuzenji paused at a row of hydrangea bushes and readjusted her glasses. She peered at the flowers, humming softly as she passed by each one. Eijirou bit his bottom lip as they walked by the first two bushes, none of the flowers seeming to catch the woman’s attention.

     Worries started to scamper through his mind. Had she changed her mind? Was she not going to let him have a flower? It seemed like a stupid thing to be concerned about, but he had been planning this for almost a week now. He wanted things to go perfectly.

     At the last bush, Shuzenji halted, eyes narrowed. Her gaze was glued to a small patch of flowers, ranging from pink to blue. With swift, steady hands, she grabbed one by the stem and snipped it off. Stepping back, she turned and offered the hydrangea to him with a kind smile.

     Eijirou hesitated to take it. It was a perfect sphere of blossoms. The petals were a soft, pale purple tinged with pink, and not a single one was damaged. If he hadn’t seen Shuzenji cut it off herself, he might have believed it wasn’t real.

     “Woah,” he breathed, a giddy smile twisting the corners of his lips as he grabbed the flower with gentle fingers. “It’s beautiful. This is— Thank you so much, Ms. Shuzenji!”

     The woman chuckled and patted his arm with a small hand. “Oh, no need to thank me. I remember what it was like falling in love. Tell me, who is this lucky person that caught your eye?”

     Eijirou froze, hesitating in his answer. “Th-they— It’s—” He swallowed, steeled himself, and pressed on. “His name’s Midoriya.”

     Shuzenji twisted around, brows arched high in surprise. “Izuku? Well, I shouldn’t be so surprised. He’s a wonderful young man. Very bright and kind.” She gave Eijirou a proud look. “I’m glad you two found each other.”

     A monstrous, relieved smile curled Eijirou’s lips. “Thanks, Ms. Shuzenji.”

     The woman smirked and lightly slapped his arm. “Now, get going. I’m sure you have quite a lot of things to do, young man.”

     Eijirou startled. “Oh shit, right, classes!” He started to race down the sidewalk then skidded to a halt and whirled back around to wildly wave his free hand. “Thanks again, Ms. Shuzenji! You’re the best!”

     He spun on the ball of his foot and raced off again, the bright, hearty sound of the woman’s laughter following behind him.

     He sprinted into his biology classroom with a light sheen of sweat coating his brow and his breaths coming in ragged heaves. Mina, Denki, and Hanta all turned in their seats to look at him, concern creased into their faces. He flashed them a quick thumbs-up and a wobbly smile full of nerves. Straightening, he marched further into the classroom, past his friends, and didn’t stop until he was two rows ahead, standing next to the green-haired man: Izuku Midoriya.

     Eijirou had murmured the name between pants as he’d run to his class. It had rolled off his tongue and left a sweet taste in its wake.

     Izuku was sitting in his chair, nose buried in a book and a notebook opened next to him, half-filled with scribbled writing. His friend, Uraraka, sat next to him, scrolling through her phone with bored interest. Neither of them had noticed him yet.

     Eijirou swallowed and tried to control his breathing and erratic heart. He was starting to doubt it was banging against his ribcage just because he’d decided to run. Flurried movement caught his attention and he glanced to the side to see Denki, Hanta, and Mina elbowing each other with wide, excited grins. Mina made a large “go on” motion and Eijirou felt his face grow hot. Hopefully, everyone would think it was only from exertion.

     He slowly inhaled and turned back to Izuku. “E-excuse me?”

     Uraraka was the first one to look up. Her eyes widened when they landed on him and a wolfish grin spread across her face. She roughly elbowed Izuku who choked on a squeak of surprise. When he looked over at Uraraka, she urgently pointed towards Eijirou. Izuku turned around and Eijirou’s heart screeched to a stop.

     Green eyes pinned him down, gently stripping him bare of his secrets and exposing every piece of himself. They were filled with a blinding inner shine and Eijirou felt like he was falling into them.

     “Oh!” Izuku yelped and Eijirou jumped out of his thoughts. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there! Are you— Do you need something?”

     ‘You,’ passed through Eijirou’s mind, but he hurriedly shoved it away.

     “U-um, hi,” he stammered out instead, riding on a wave of adrenaline to get through this interaction. “I’m, uh, I’m Eijirou Kirishima. I—”

     “I know you!” Izuku suddenly cried, a dazzling smile filled with excitement curling his lips. “You’re the guy who created that energy efficient solution for large scale production companies that cut back on their carbon footprint and helps preserve the surrounding environments. You presented it last year at the Environmental Science Internship Convention, right?”

     Eijirou blinked, his blush reaching up to his ears and down his neck. “Y-yeah, that’s me.” He wracked his brain, trying to remember green curls, bright green eyes, and freckled cheeks from the convention.

     “Oh my gosh, this is incredible!” Izuku cheered. “I wanted to talk to you about it so bad, but there were a bunch of people talking to you after your presentation and I didn’t want to disturb you. Plus, my friend was about to do her presentation next and I didn’t want to be late for that. Hers was about how to save endangered species of frogs, I don’t know if you heard about it. Anyway, I have to know, how do you think those companies would react to your idea? A lot of them only think about money, so do you know if there’s any way to make it more financially appealing to them?”

     Eijirou’s heart thrummed in his chest at the unwavering attention Izuku was giving him. “I-I, um, I was thinking that maybe there could be some form of tax reduction for implementing it, so it could cost about the same.”

     “What about installing it? I’d imagine it would cost a lot to switch the entire factory over and people can have the mentality of ‘if it’s not broken, why fix it’.” There was no sign of arrogance or smugness in Izuku’s tone, only sincere, honest curiosity.

      Eijirou felt his chest swell with warmth at the interest. “Yeah, but with the tax reduction and how much money they’ll save from installing it, I think a smart business person would realize how much it would benefit their company.”

     Izuku’s smile grew as he delved into another question. Eijirou, lost in the discussion and eager green gaze, quickly answered it and every other one afterward. The world bled away until it was just the two of them and Eijirou’s project from last year.

     Until Uraraka suddenly poked Izuku in the ribs. “Sorry to crash the party,” she whispered loudly. “But Mr. Aizawa’s here.”

      A heavy weight of disappointment fell onto Eijirou’s heart, dragging it down into his stomach.

     “Shit,” Izuku hissed, his contagious smile dropping. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you, Kirishima.”

     Eijirou opened his mouth to dismiss the apology, but the words halted in his throat when Izuku offered, “Do you want to sit here?”

     He stared at Izuku’s open, expectant face, his mouth moving soundlessly as his brain scrambled to fully process the question. “Y-yeah!” he finally breathed out. “Yeah, that’s— Ok, thanks.” He plopped into the seat next to Izuku, whose smile seemed brighter and larger than before. 

     His gaze flicked down and a spark of confused curiosity lit his eyes. “What’s that?”

     Eijirou glanced down, noticing the flower still clutched in his grasp. A flush of red swept across his face. “O-oh yeah, I, um— Here.” He shoved the flower at Izuku, startling the poor man. “S-sorry, it’s a, uh, it’s a hydrangea. I, um, heard you were majoring in botany and that you really like flowers, so...” He swallowed as Izuku tentatively took it, his freckles beginning to disappear as pink tinted his cheeks. “I guess you, uh, already know their meaning, right?”

     Izuku slowly nodded. “They’re well known as flowers given to lovers that were ignored or wronged, or a way to turn down someone’s marriage proposal. B-but they can also be used to convey honest emotions or show interest in getting to know someone, th-that’s what the purple ones mean, at least. A-and the pink ones usually are for...” He trailed off, the dusting on his cheeks turning into a prominent red. Eijirou waited in tense silence and swallowed thickly. Izuku’s gaze was glued to the hydrangea held between his fingers, his eyes distant as though he was lost in his thoughts.

     “I, uh,” Izuku started and cleared his throat. “I have a class after this that goes on until two. M-maybe after it we can meet up to, um, talk about your project some more? I-if you want to, that is,” he quickly tacked on.

     Eijirou released a shaky breath, his heart skipping weightlessly in his chest. “Y-yeah, that sounds great! Where, uh, where do you want to meet up?”

     Izuku’s shoulders started to hunch up and the red on his face spread to his ears. “We could meet up at the cafe on campus.”

     “Alright, class,” Aizawa tiredly cut into their conversation, snapping the awkward men out of their verbal dance. “Let’s get this lesson over with.” The room immediately fell silent as he trudged from his desk to the whiteboard.

     Eijirou leaned towards Izuku, murmuring, “That sounds great! I’ll meet you there.”

     Izuku’s gaze finally broke away from the flower and a shy, thrilled smile lifted a corner of his lips. Eijirou beamed back, wishing he could unleash the pent up excitement in his chest with a loud whoop. Unfortunately, if he did, he had no doubt that Aizawa would kick him out of the classroom for the rest of the semester.

     He settled on doodling small hearts and hydrangeas on the margins of his notebook for the rest of the class instead.

[dailybiblelessons]

Monday: Reflection on the Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Revised Common Lectionary Proper 9 Roman Catholic Proper 14

Complementary Hebrew Scripture from the Latter Prophets: Ezekiel 2:8-3:11

But you, mortal, hear what I say to you; do not be rebellious like that rebellious house; open your mouth and eat what I give you. I looked, and a hand was stretched out to me, and a written scroll was in it. He spread it before me; it had writing on the front and on the back, and written on it were words of lamentation and mourning and woe.

He said to me, O mortal, eat what is offered to you; eat this scroll, and go, speak to the house of Israel. So I opened my mouth, and he gave me the scroll to eat. He said to me, Mortal, eat this scroll that I give you and fill your stomach with it. Then I ate it; and in my mouth it was as sweet as honey.

He said to me: Mortal, go to the house of Israel and speak my very words to them. For you are not sent to a people of obscure speech and difficult language, but to the house of Israel—not to many peoples of obscure speech and difficult language, whose words you cannot understand. Surely, if I sent you to them, they would listen to you. But the house of Israel will not listen to you, for they are not willing to listen to me; because all the house of Israel have a hard forehead and a stubborn heart. See, I have made your face hard against their faces, and your forehead hard against their foreheads. Like the hardest stone, harder than flint, I have made your forehead; do not fear them or be dismayed at their looks, for they are a rebellious house. He said to me: Mortal, all my words that I shall speak to you receive in your heart and hear with your ears; then go to the exiles, to your people, and speak to them. Say to them, “Thus says the Lord GOD”; whether they hear or refuse to hear.

Semi-continuous Hebrew Scripture from the Former Prophets: 2 Samuel 5:1-10

Then all the tribes of Israel came to David at Hebron, and said, “Look, we are your bone and flesh. For some time, while Saul was king over us, it was you who led out Israel and brought it in. The Lord said to you: It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel, you who shall be ruler over Israel.” So all the elders of Israel came to the king at Hebron; and King David made a covenant with them at Hebron before the Lord, and they anointed David king over Israel. David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned forty years. At Hebron he reigned over Judah seven years and six months; and at Jerusalem he reigned over all Israel and Judah thirty-three years.

The king and his men marched to Jerusalem against the Jebusites, the inhabitants of the land, who said to David, “You will not come in here, even the blind and the lame will turn you back”—thinking, “David cannot come in here.” Nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion, which is now the city of David. David had said on that day, “Whoever would strike down the Jebusites, let him get up the water shaft to attack the lame and the blind, those whom David hates.” Therefore it is said, “The blind and the lame shall not come into the house.” David occupied the stronghold, and named it the city of David. David built the city all around from the Millo inward. And David became greater and greater, for the Lord, the God of hosts, was with him.¹

¹There is a parallel passage at 1 Chronicles 11:1-9.

Complementary Psalm 119:81-88

My soul languishes for your salvation;  I hope in your word. My eyes fail with watching for your promise;  I ask, “When will you comfort me?” For I have become like a wineskin in the smoke,  yet I have not forgotten your statutes. How long must your servant endure?  When will you judge those who persecute me? The arrogant have dug pitfalls for me;  they flout your law. All your commandments are enduring;  I am persecuted without cause; help me! They have almost made an end of me on earth;  but I have not forsaken your precepts. In your steadfast love spare my life,  so that I may keep the decrees of your mouth.

Semi-continuous Psalm 21

In your strength the king rejoices, O Lord,  and in your help how greatly he exults! You have given him his heart's desire,  and have not withheld the request of his lips. Selah For you meet him with rich blessings;  you set a crown of fine gold on his head. He asked you for life; you gave it to him—  length of days forever and ever. His glory is great through your help;  splendor and majesty you bestow on him. You bestow on him blessings forever;  you make him glad with the joy of your presence. For the king trusts in the Lord,  and through the steadfast love of the Most High  he shall not be moved.

Your hand will find out all your enemies;  your right hand will find out those who hate you. You will make them like a fiery furnace  when you appear. The Lord will swallow them up in his wrath,  and fire will consume them. You will destroy their offspring from the earth,  and their children from among humankind. If they plan evil against you,  if they devise mischief, they will not succeed. For you will put them to flight;  you will aim at their faces with your bows.

Be exalted, O Lord, in your strength!  We will sing and praise your power.

New Testament Epistle Lesson: 2 Corinthians 11:16-33

I repeat, let no one think that I am a fool; but if you do, then accept me as a fool, so that I too may boast a little. What I am saying in regard to this boastful confidence, I am saying not with the Lord's authority, but as a fool; since many boast according to human standards, I will also boast. For you gladly put up with fools, being wise yourselves! For you put up with it when someone makes slaves of you, or preys upon you, or takes advantage of you, or puts on airs, or gives you a slap in the face. To my shame, I must say, we were too weak for that!

But whatever anyone dares to boast of—I am speaking as a fool—I also dare to boast of that. Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they descendants of Abraham? So am I. Are they ministers of Christ? I am talking like a madman—I am a better one: with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless floggings, and often near death. Five times I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers and sisters; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked. And, besides other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I am not indignant?

If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. The God and Father of the Lord Jesus (blessed be he forever!) knows that I do not lie. In Damascus, the governor under King Aretas guarded the city of Damascus in order to seize me, but I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall, and escaped from his hands.

Year B Ordinary 14, RCL Proper 9, Catholic Proper 14 Monday

Selections from Revised Common Lectionary Daily Readings, copyright © 1995 by the Consultation on Common Texts. Unless otherwise indicated, Bible text is from The New Revised Standard Version, (NRSV) copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All right reserved. Image Credit: Paul Being Rescued is public domain image published by the Providence Lithograph Company.